It’s hot as balls in my apartment right now.
Last week, Portland was downpouring. I ruined a pair of suede flats trying to outrun a metro bus and make it into the office without looking like the tragic climax of a Nicholas Sparks film.
And now I’m laying in bed sweating.
My crack head neighbor called to me yesterday as I left for a concert.
“You got one of ‘dem air conditioners in there?”
“Nope. Not right now.”
“Yah best get one. It’s about to get really hot.”
“I heard.”
“We wouldn’t want you meltin’ or nothin’ like that.”
“Indeed. No melting.”
“incoherantgrumbles”
Storymakerupper was supposed to sell me her AC unit. I haven’t done that yet. But I should soon, because I have to come to terms with the fact that I am NOT made for heat. Meagans are a fragile, simple people. We need cold air, chilled wine and DVDs of workplace comedies.
Fuck this day and this heat and my sweating.
Someone. Someone please bring me ice. My deadbolt is broken. You could probably get in if you try hard enough.
I’ll be up here. Watching The Whitest Guys You Know. Dying.
3 responses so far ↓
mediaChick // May 16, 2009 at 3:15 pm |
It’s good for your pores, I hear. This sweating. Michelles LOVE the heat, BTW. I LOVES IT. Even as I lay gasping, HEAVING, on the thirsty earth: I am loving it.
So, while I’d love to bring you some ice to cool you down, I’m much too busy sucking up as much Vitamin D and delicious screwdrivers as I can.
Sorry. =)
andieeast // May 16, 2009 at 5:05 pm |
my sweat is sweating. i just spent two hours trying to take a nap but kept waking up cause I was too hot. Screw this.
guilfordcyndi // May 16, 2009 at 7:48 pm |
You are so frickin’ hilarious
. You are perpetual in your awesomeness!