[It’s supposed to be in the mid 90’s this week. Throw in that there is no air conditioning in my apartment, the heat will be relentless. It's not just hot, it's viscous. It'll be like wading through a week-old Jello shot left out in the sun that smells like pee and garbage. Plus my thighs smack together when I walk. It is the very definition of suck.]
Of course, there also comes a time every winter when I romanticize burning forever in the pits of Hades (which, let's face it, is probably inevitable, given that I watched Valentine’s Day on DVD, voted for a socialist Muslim, and just made a joke about real-life cannibalism among members of the Uruguayan rugby team).
Anyway, choosing between too hot and too cold is one of those questions that divide people in a really combative way. A good analogy is that central Twilight battle -- Team Edward or Team Jacob -- since Edward is waxen and bloodless and has a basal temperature about the same as a witch's teat, while Jacob is warm and brown and has abdominal muscles that work harder than I did during my rebound job.
But my point is -- would you rather sparkle in the sunlight on a mountaintop while gnawing on an energy bar with numb, blue lips OR have your eyelashes singed off while drowning in your own sweat and bemoaning Heidi Montag's terrible elective plastic surgery?
[P.S. Those are not stagnant cups of hobo urine that are making Taylor Lautner's nostrils flare so sexily in my super-impressive Photoshop collage... they are coconut Jello shots. Which is maybe even worse.]
Wow, this is the most feel-good post ever.
Excuse me while I go hump my office air conditioner.
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