Boy, this is turning out to be a bad idea.

At the time, it seemed harmless enough. Build a snowman, give him a magic hat, watch him come to life, frivolity ensues. I was all set for hysterical quips and skimming down snow-covered hills on his back. I thought we'd become life long pals. Friends. Buddys. I couldn't have been more wrong.

I may have to kill that snowman.

As soon as I put that fucking hat on him, he starts complaining. Why did I give him sticks for arms? Why give him a scarf and no pants? What's the deal with the corn-cob pipe - why did I make him a smoker? Seriously, it's been nothing but bitch, bitch, bitch from day one, and I am getting pretty fucking tired of it.

I tried to take the hat off his head, but the guy's like two feet taller than me, so good luck with that. Of course, I try to take it off and he runs to the traffic cop, and he threatens to arrest me for domestic abuse, so I can't freaking win. 

I thought at the very least, he would stay outside, but no, he's made himself right at home. I walk in the other day, and the bastard is sitting there on the couch, watching "Maury", and eating all of my Doritos. Again, ALL OF MY DORITOS. Like, an entire bag. I ask him why he did it, and he sat there and lied to my face. "It wasn't me, man. Relax," he said. I told him I knew it was him because there was orange Dorito dust all over his mouth and snowfingers, but he kept denying it. "It wasn't me, man. Relax".

Yeah, I'll relax. I'll relax this hatchet in the middle of your snowskull, asshole.

I don't even want to talk about my last electric bill. The bastard is running the A/C 24-7, and my balls can't take it anymore. I can't bake anything because, "it gets too hot, and my face starts to melt".  Forget about using the fireplace. Hell, if I even light a candle, I have to listen to "Don't get that too close to me - you know I'm alergic to flames" all night.

And the ego. Man oh man, is that getting old. "Bitch, you best get out of my face," he says to me. "Do you know who I am? Children love the shit out of me, so back the fuck off".

I mean, seriously, who talks that way? 

And get this - the other day he has the gall to ask me for $200 so he could get a prostitute. I said absoultely not, and then he asked me to build him a snowhooker. He said he had a magic g-string that he was sure would bring her to life. I just walked away and tried to ignore him. But I swear to Christ, if I have to hear him talking about how badly he needs a "snow-job" one more time, I am going to lose my shit.

We got into a pretty big arguement the other day, and I told him, "Just wait, fatboy. Spring is not that far away, so keep it up." Fucker just laughed and told me he'd be back again someday.

Yeah, this was a bad idea.