Hot Stuff

Gasp, huff, huff. Florida summer is back. Hot, and humid, with air so thick that you can move it around like a fat sweaty man. This is the time of year that we seal up our homes so as to not let one ounce of that heavy tropical air in. The only reason you would open your windows between May first and October is if the dog farted. Yes I know all of you in other parts of the country have hot weather, but you get a reprieve once in a while. Five, ten, even fifteen days of hot humid weather, and then you get the cool front. Sure it spawns a couple of tornadoes, but at least when they've spun on through it's cooler.

Last evening Mark and I met up with one of our friends for our regular Monday cocktails. It's two dollar drink night at the 'Depot', and we like to get our money's worth. Unfortunately, the Depot's air conditioning was broken last night. It was hotter than a fat man's underpants. More moist and smelly than the armpits of a country lesbian in August. Sure they had some fans blowing the stale air around, but it was no help. I thought the main bar was hot, until I used the restroom. I swear I got a sunburn in there. Eight, large bare light bulbs, situated directly above the toilet. Thank god the Depot has an outdoor patio. Otherwise we would have had to stop with our third drink.