You know I love you Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye (especially you, Danny), and Rosemary Clooney. Even you, the wasp-waisted bitch they had to dub (though you're not pictured here). I love all of you, I do, but seriously, it's snowing and it's five fucking degrees this morning and, add insult to injury, it feels like I'm getting an inside-the-nose zit. So you'll excuse me if I just sing along without the choreography, then? I can only move so much on this bathmat anyway, and I'm saving my energy for the sprint across frozen expanse of tile to the bedroom.
I'm not ready to write off the whole day yet, but let's file it under inauspicious start, shall we? If you don't want it nipped, you better cover it, and if you don't want it chapped, you better lube it, people. Oh, and fuck you, Snow Miser.