So everyone needs to stop complaining! It's August! It's supposed to be 90 degrees. Remember June? When it rained for something like 25 days? When the entire city woke up every day, looked out the window, and said, "Rain again, whatever," and seemed to be gripped by a tri-state depression? I'm no fan of hot and humid weather (I'd be happy if every day was 68 degrees and sunny, followed by 12 inches of fresh powder every night) but really, this isn't so bad. We've had worse.
So no complaining, even though it is what I like to call granny-panty weather. When it's too hot to wear anything except big comfy cotton undies. I can't imagine anything worse than dealing with a thong up my ass on a steamy summer day.
On a completely unrelated note; wouldn't "Obama Death Panel" be a really good name for a band?
Oh, and while I'm talking about that -- fuck you Sarah Palin, you numb twat
2 comments:
I loved June and most of July.
She likes you.
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