This heat is making me nuts!
My cerebral cortex is taking a siesta. Si, El Guapo. Now I understand why the entire Third World wants to come to America. For the air conditioning. No wonder we’re sucking down over 25% of the world’s energy. Most of it is used to keep our computers and brains from imminent meltdown. How smart is that?
If it gets any hotter, I’m going to set my oven to broil and climb inside. It would be cooler and I could find out why my cakes have been falling.
Uh, I don’t bake cakes. I am currently baking my brain, however, and finally understand what Timothy Leary was driveling about. “Turn on, tune in . . .” and fry your noodle. I would like to drop out of the “Great Oregon Griddle Contest of 2009,” especially since it isn’t even August, yet. Let’s make frappuccinos, instead.
I came north for the greenery and the climate! Unlike the Bush Administration, I don’t mind admitting my real intentions. Also unlike Darth Cheney and Friends, I have an exit strategy. Oh, Canada, prepare to be conquered.
Come for the tar sands, stay for the deep freeze, I always say.
If this is the state of Global Warming, Oregon to be precise, then I will head further north. When is that next Ice Age scheduled, please? No, not the movie. I mean the geological period of temperature reduction. Can we dial that in for Friday?
Oh, greenhouse gases, you say? Can’t we just open the flap and air this place out? My kumquats are melting. I believe the little button sewn into Global Warming’s long johns is just above its ass crack, which looks like Needles, CA on my map.
Here is your brain on a Funky Cold Medina. Here is your, hmm, well that’s funny. We can’t seem to . . . ah, yes, there it is. That little shriveled thing. Did you just climb out of the gene pool? Stop wading around in there and evolve, for christ sake.
Is it any wonder that any great civilization living in the tropical zones has long since vanished? It was the heat.
“Pharoah, sir. So sorry, but it’s a tad warm, today. Yes, sire, nearly 112 in the shade of the Sphinx’s huevos.
Might we skip the ol’ block party. You know, slip down to the banks of the Nile and toss back a few margueritas? Besides the BBB is beginning to frown upon this whole pyramid scheme.
50 lashes, is it? Right.”
Check your maps. The majority of modern world domination was borne out of the colder climates. Why? They were just trying to stay warm.
“Fuck, I’m freezing my runes off, Sven. What to do?”
“Aye, let’s invade Greenland. Sounds like a balmy place.”
I had similar thoughts about Oregon, at first. Over the winter. Now, my brain is liquifying and oozing out of the pores of my skin. I stuck a meat thermometer in my ear and it reads, “Well Done.”
Well, I’m a firm believer in, “If you can’t take the heat, stay out of the kitchen.” Mr. Fireman also says, “During a fire, if the doorknob is too hot to touch, then don’t open the door. Find another way out.”
Help! I’m trapped in my kitchen with a meat thermometer stuck in my brain and I’m basting my noodle. Dinner is served.
For dessert, I’d like Baked Alaska a la Palin. It comes in a nice glazed-over sauce of streaming unconsciousness.
I think I’m becoming delusional. I don’t have air conditioning. I have a window fan that is bi-directional. I call it Lord Byron because it blows both ways.
During the day, I set it to blow the hot air out of the room. Between the computer and me, we generate a lot of heat. At night, I flip the switch to bring cooler air inside, which makes it easier to write poetry and contemplate my masculinity.
Unfortunately, my neighbor smokes like a sweatshop chimney in New Delhi and I keep getting a huge whiff of her slow suicide through my window. Too bad I can’t Fedex her rude, inconsiderate ass to India so she can become one with the Ganges.
Heat makes me cranky, but smokers make me want to kill someone. Fucktards, everyone.
I find it interesting that our duplex is supposed to be a non-smoking unit, per the owner and landlord, so Mrs. Smoker politely obliges him by poisoning the outside air, instead. Yet, because of the insufferable twit, I’m forced to breathe stale, hot air or her second-hand fuck you. Ash hole.
“It was euthanasia, Your Honor. She was, obviously, trying to kill herself and I merely wanted to assist her. Badly.”
Okay, how about self defense or insanity, then?
“She’s a premedicated murderer and because of her slowly poisoning me, I was out of my mind when I backed over her in the driveway.
32 times? I’m OCD and thought I’d left the oven on. I’ve been doing a lot of baking, lately.”
Case dismissed!
I’ve worked on the tarmac at Nellis AFB, Nevada, when the asphalt stuck to your boots and the heat radiating from its surface was well over 140 degrees. I’ve ridden across Texas, Oklahoma and most of America in some of the hottest and driest conditions.
A black leather jacket and black full-face helmet are both your friend and your enemy. I’ve sweated my ass off for hundreds of miles, squirting water from my bota bag onto my chest just to cool down. Ahhh, evaporation, how do I love thee?
I acclimate well, but intense heat, day after day, robs me of my will to accomplish much of anything except try to get cooler. That’s what we’re all wanting to do . . . be cool.
So, be cool and don’t take out your heat exhaustion on your housemate or neighbor. Find some humor and a little shade, some iced lemonade and a healthier way to let off a little steam. A blazing blog, perhaps?
The Kat
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