My apartment is hotter than the sun’s thermos over here. The sun has hot coffee in his thermos, but my apartment is warmer than that coffee. For the sun to enjoy a hot coffee, you know it would have to be really hot. But my apartment is moreso.
I guess this weekend the city is being Hurricaned. At least that should clear out all this humidity.
I’d do something, or write something or something, but it’s too hot. I don’t want to.
The city gets so stupid over them hurricanes.
I have a recipe to cure hotness.
Several Ice blocks+woodchipper=coolness.
I don’t even know what way Marq means “gets so stupid” in that phrase, but I am getting stupid excited for a nice break from this heat.
Having no woodchipper and uncertain where to actually get a block of ice short of making one in the freezer, I’m just still in the heat. It’s so hot I actually just went to the store Without My Trenchcoat. And when I got to the Superstore they were sold out of both Lemonade and Popsicles. What the chunks?
One of my favorite methods of beating the heat is to place cool metallic objects against my forehead and steal their coolness. But these days all metallic objects I own, from wrenches to monies to Huitzilopochtli Broadbent are all room temperature. It’s crazy. I’m actually using freezer packs on my face now.
Freezer packs? Hell, I have been adorning my head with a frozen pack of hotdogs.