April, Ugh

I hate the month of April. I know, I know, that is probably going to piss of everyone born in April, and I am sorry. It is not your fault your birth month sucks. If it makes you feel any better I was born in August, which is pretty much universally acknowledged as the sweaty ass crack of the calendar year. But we aren't talking about August. We are talking about April, and why it sucks.

Just look at the way April starts: with April Fool’s Day. The month is just setting you up for a prolonged misery with a day of lame and/or hurtful jokes that are all excused with the words “April Fools!” Yet, if you punch the jokester in the face, you can’t use the same rationale to get out of assault charges. How fair is that? Not fair at all. Thanks a lot, April.

I am always either too hot or too cold in April, no matter what I am wearing. A cute blouse and shorts? Freezing. A cute blouse, shorts, and a sweater? Boiling. I spend the entire month alternating between being covered in goose bumps or sweat. Neither is attractive.

Oh, and what about the colors associated with April? This may be all in my head (many things are), but isn’t April all about pastel yellow and tangerine orange? It’s like the whole month is an ad for 70’s bridesmaid dresses.

Taxes are due in April. Now really, who likes taxes? I mean, besides homo, baby hating, Atheist Democrats. And they don’t count.

The final indignity of April? The birthstone is the diamond. Yeah, April, the month that leaves me covered with sweat, unable to find a decent colored spring dress, and the butt of jokes, gets diamonds. What does August get? Peridot. Yes, a stone colored like bile. Well, at least no one gets their hands chopped off for trying to steal them. The diamond miners in Sierra Leone must hate April more than I do.

No, I take it back. That isn’t possible. Wake me when it’s May.