Weathering the Pixie

People can sometimes be easily classed in your head. Yes, it’s wrong to judge people, but there are times when you can simply sum someone up and place them on a certain point of a scale.

For instance, that person who strutted up to you on the street and started gassing on about why some ethereal being placed humankind on a rock and flung it at 30,000 kays per second around a fireball… they’re on the “nutjob” end of the scale.

Or even that guy who told you that you “totally fucked it up” in a bar... yeah, he “ain’t quite right”.

But say, Nelson Mandella, Ghandi, the Dalai Lama, and Kirsten Dunst (I sincerely, sincerely hope… [if you’re reading this, Kirsten, drop me an email, plzkthxbai!]) [/kirstendunststalker] are on the other side ie totally and utterly respectable and admirable, leaving you with a sense of awe.

But with other people, you can’t help but dangle them above the scale as you simply don’t know where they stand. Either they are totally brilliant… or they are totally insane.

Take the weather pixie for example.

On one hand I think that she has the steely resolve borne from years of hardship in war torn Kosovo, and after escaping is revelling in our country’s “mild” weather. I mean, how else could you frock up in this:



… when it’s twelve degrees Celsius… or 53..6 degrees Fahrenheit.



And here she is in 8 degree celcius (46.4 fahrenheit) weather, and as a double whammy, she's in the rain, with a cute little midriff top. Yeah, that'll shield you from the elements...

And yet she’s still there, sultry look on her dial, a slight, ever so appealing smile dissecting her steely visage.

In any language, in any method of measuring temperature, it still is what is commonly known as “fucking cold, guv’nah” or even the more amusing term “brass monkey weather”.

I haven’t seen such a high threshold of pain since driving past one of Adelaide’s popular night clubs at 3am when it was raining cats, dogs and other such domestic animals unfortunate enough to be in the sky. It was ice cold outside and yet I was still seeing a pride of girls standing around as though it were a warm summer’s evening, wearing attire not too dissimilar to what WP is offering.

Not that I was complaining. In fact, I reckon I came close to having an accident from not watching the road. Even then I’m pretty sure I would’ve been approached by all these kids and then asked if I had “any”. I would then profit from selling $20 headache tablets.

And then I would class these people at the “idiot” end of the scale. Which in turn is affecting my interpretation of WP’s spot on the meter.

So she’s either totally strong, or numb from the hair down.

Or… she was designed, drawn and produced by deprived males with no sense of actual winter fashion…

Disclaimer: This post does in no way sum up my opinion on bloggers who implement WP. This post was a concerted effort to try and up the mood from the worryingly depressing tone exhibited over the past few weeks. If I failed… well… who cares? Oh and I’m kidding about the whole Kirsten Dunst thing. Kinda…

Edit: And sorry to those who didn't know who WP was. I have since added a link to where you may survey weather pixie in his or her glory.

Further Edit: Pictures now up... sorry for the delay and confusion.