May in Las Vegas is supposed to bring forth gloriously warm weather with light breezes that tickle one’s fancy and leave one with dreams of tropical getaways. Not May of 2012. This month has brought record high temps and an unwelcomed preview of the months to come.
Anyone have some cheese because I feel a whine coming on? Stay if you are suited-up with armor for such rants; else you might want to make your exit quickly. And quietly please. We don’t want to disturb the others’ power naps.
LIL Sis, is that you snoring? WAKE UP. I can’t do this alone. I’m weak from the heat and tired from the fucking 30 and 40 mph wind gusts. Ever try walking against those types of gusts? And I’m not exactly built to foster wind-worthy dynamics. Imagine if you will, an elephant trying to pee in a thimble.
Yea it’s like that. Only without the pee.
I forget where I was going with that analogy. So sue me.
WTFriday? It’s the heat, I tell ya.
I don’t even want to think about the next power bill. I may have to sell my body once again.
It could happen.
Somebody out there lusts for will settle for my tired broke ass sexy senior stuff. Don’t knock me until you’ve tried me.
But I digress. I felt like it was about time to interject that old reliable phrase. It’s a lot like me, overused and under-appreciated.
If you’re feeling nauseous, just tilt your head back, apply a cool wash cloth, and think about cute little teddy bears or mountains of chocolate. That doesn’t do it for me but I’m stretching to be nice here.
It’s the heat, I tell you.
It makes me think bad things. Naughty things. Unthinkable things. Like vagina. And Jennifer Lopez. Notice I didn’t really put those two in the same sentence…vagina and JLo? I thought that might be inappropriate. Just because I may have been thinking about the two together. Still, I’m nothing if not cognizant of my reading audience. And fair.
So George Clooney. And penis. How’s that? Again being respectful enough to separate the two by a period.
You see? I told you I was fair. Now everyone’s happy and I can go on with my fucking heat stroke.
The previous few paragraphs have absolutely no redeeming value, and yet I still have a reason to post.
Because I’m in hell and I need the company.
Thanks for taking this journey with me. If you should desire to have further proof of my Hell, then turn on your oven, and stick your head in for a few seconds, until you build up a good sweat. Then turn your blow dryer on high and point directly into your face for another few seconds. After that, relax and enjoy those hallucinations. If they don’t come right away, repeat the above process. Have patience. You will soon imagine freaky and wondrous things.
It was good for me. Was it good for you?
Images from Google Images