“…so take off all your clothes…”
I’m kidding…unless you want too…nah…I’m just messin’ with ya…but would you be interested…I’m still kidding…DOWN BOY.
I blame the heat.
Living on a round planet dictates that we have to share summer between the northern and southern hemispheres. As it turns out, the South are now suppose to be basking in the warm, soothing rays of SUN. Only we’re not. We’re frying. “Basking” is not a verb I would use when one enters an oven every time you try and venture outside.
Some of you who are freezing your nuts off right about now, might even consider me an inconsiderate dufus for complaining about warm weather. You’re probably thinking: “Why doesn’t he just get of his arse and embrace the sun. Maybe catch a tan. Do something useful.”
Truth be told, crimson red is not a good colour on any human being. A guaranteed result from spending thirty-three seconds outside. I gained a thorough understanding as to why a lobster has the need to scream when it’s being cooked aka slowly tortured to death. This insight was handed to me as I attempted gardening, two weekends ago. (And I’ll never eat lobster again.)
I just have one question for my friends up North: What the f…did you do to SUN to piss her off this much?
To say SUN is pissed off would be like saying the Second World War was a minor disagreement. SUN is absolutely livid. She’s using every opportunity to chuck ferocious heaps of fire onto poor EARTH, who’s just sitting there nodding. He’s all dried up and opted to stay alive by keeping his mouth shut. Let the biaatch blow of some steam. CLOUDS dissipated to their room, listening to a remix of Go West. They know better and just keep out of her way, which implies RAIN has no opportunity to call an intervention and salvage whatever is left of this situation.
What caused such a huge domestic disturbance among the heavenly bodies? Did EARTH mention MARS again?
In the mean time, I’m melting, losing gallons of sweat streaming from my armpits, soaking my shirt. Nice. I feel so sexy. I shouldn’t complain as I’m probably losing weight, sitting down. It might have been better if it wasn’t for the soggy chair and inefficient air-conditioner.
I took this picture last week, as I got into the inferno which at some point was called a car.
For the sake of clarity…
The time on the clock is 4:37, to be read as 4:37 PM or 16h37, depending on your preference. In other words, I was working late. Eight minutes late, to be precise. BUT the important figure would be the 44°. This is recorded as Celsius because I live in a civilized, progressive country that uses the metric system.
If my unit converter is working properly, this should be around 111.2 °F.
And that my friends, is frigging hot.
PS – Since I wrote this post CLOUDS were allowed out of their room, so RAIN made a brief appearance. We’re thankful, except for the fact that I now have a Chinese Torture Device in my Bedroom.
SUN is highly pissed off again today…JEEZ.