The Sun Hates Me

I don't know why, but the Sun totally fucking hates me. It may be because I was never really into being outside during daylight hours, since that's when naked dark programming time is. It may be because I don't really give a shit about how the Sun has a spectral class of G2V, even though it talks about it all the time, even when I'm busy being tremendously aroused by ruby code.

Once I was just minding my own business, doing drugs and staying up driving around all night, when suddenly I ran out of gas. I find it tremendously suspicious that at the exact same moment I needed to refill my gas tank, the Sun rose, ending my awesome night. The Sun will claim that things like fuel depletion are totally not its fault, but that's just the kind of shit you'd expect from a fourth magnitude star.

So anyways, this winter, all of a sudden my hands are drying out like Hillary Clinton and when I drive home, the sunlight makes me itch. I even get rashes on my elbows. I thought at first this was just a side effect of heavy alcoholism, but then I quit being a fucking idiot and realized it's because the Sun totally and sincerely hates me, probably because it's a Population I stellar entity and a total prick.

I don't know what the hell you want, Sun. I don't mess with you. I never told your homies Polaris and Proxima Centauri that your ultraviolet radiation has antiseptic properties, which is something you told me to promise to take to the grave with me, even though everybody already knows and you should just deal with it. Just get off my ass already. I'm not going to kowtow to all your idiotic demands just because your oblateness is around 9 millionths. Uppity bitch.