Hot enough for you?

by allthoughtswork

Yes. Fuck you.

(reaches for daiquiri)

heat map portland 8-2-17

That’s Portland, Oregon, August 2, 2017. Records were broken, curses were hurled, shirts were filled with boob sweat. You want me now, don’t you?

Here’s a little comment-parody I flung over to my buddy up in cool, soothing Canada, the comfortable sap:

Here, lemme give you the current Portland, Oregon, version of the above. It’s a forest fire smoke-filled morning. The kind of forest fire smoke-filled morning that makes you wanna sneak a photo of the abnormally dark orange sun heaving itself over the scorched horizon but you can’t because in exactly three hours, it will be too hot to even touch the garden hose anymore and all the hydrangeas you hope to save with prophylactic watering will have burst into flames. So, you get back to work.

You gaze across your garden, and you see the leaves of each and every plant turned up to the sun like the third scene in Faces of Death and you can’t believe summer is ONLY half over. Muttering and sweating, you crank on the spigot and stand amid a whining cloud of bloodthirsty mosquitoes while placing bets which one of them will be the first to find the square centimeter on your left ankle missed by the spray repellent that smells like burnt baby oil and lime.

And so you stand there in the morning light a bit longer, like a forlorn Weight Watchers drop out waiting at the town’s only Dairy Queen to open. It’s going to be 105 today….again. You wonder just how much crushed ice the cleavage in your new wicking sports bra can hold and you realize, once and for all, that there’s no good damned excuse not to finish those writing projects today.

Image result for hot enough for ya

gummi melt

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