I could be crawling along the freshly painted red Freedom Trail stripe at the Boylston T kiosk, mouth full of peanut butter and saltines with a sun-lamp strapped to the back of my head – and some twat would pick that particular moment to stroll by and declare “What’s the big deal? I like it when it’s this hot!” Well, if that’s indeed the case, please let me extend to you this invitation to die immediately in a roofdeck propane fire.
“Air conditioner? Poppycock – save your utility money and just give in to this beautiful heat. Slather yourself in Crisco and find a nice patch of incindiary North End sidewalk to lie on. Get some rays. Sure, the 16-year-old bubblegum will be liquifying straight into your hair, but I love it I love it I love it!” This girl lives in my building. And while I’m exaggerating her exact statement to me Sunday morning as I struggled to install my decade old airplane hanger AC unit, I am in no way exaggerating the sudden desire I felt to drop said 100 pounds of freon fixture on her jelly-sandled tootsies.
Maybe it’s because I’m a frostback. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t an Afrikaans tobacco farmer in a former life. Regardless, I don’t do well in the heat – and I really wish I still owned one of these.
At least you didn’t get the old, “hot enough for you” that people love to throw around. Every time I hear that, I come this close to going on a seven state killing spree.
Amen
Oh my god, I loved the Snoopy Snow Cone Machine. I got it as a gift for my fifth birthday (insert age joke here) and it was the best present ever.
Also, the title of this post made me laugh out loud. Amen is right.