It's Gettin' Hot in Herre

Ahem (sips sweet iced tea w/lemon).

Let me begin by saying that I love the South. I love the food, the people, the way you can get away with going out to a nice(ish) bar on Saturday night wearing jeans, flip-flops, and a wifebeater and completely get away with it as long as you're wearing a sweet necklace or big, flashy earrings... The South rocks. Every town has bizarre secrets involving people eating dirt, performing in a traveling carnival, and burying coworkers in piles of corn shucks ("cornshucks" may possibly be only one word - I'm too lazy to look it up, although my grandmother almost certainly could have told you). It seems slow-paced and bleary-eyed. It's not.

The South runs through my blood like sloe gin through the liver of a Baptist deacon's wife, still humming "Blest Be the Tie that Binds," hiding out on the back porch after a Sunday night sermon. I have by now come to the conclusion that I will never completely shake the South, no matter where I go, and have even realized that this is OK. I kind of embrace it now.

But people, it is HOT up in here. It's ridiculous. I understand that it's hot everywhere, but we are swimming from work to our cars here. Humidity is an evil bitch, and since August has officially hit, I don't feel like a lame-ass for whining about it. At this point, I'm like a Massachusetts resident in March - sick of the extreme weather and ready for some relief. Sadly, though, in Alabama, relief is not going to come for at least another month and a half (and in a month and a half, I'll probably be visiting Phoenix. I never claimed to be the smartest, ok?).

New Orleans residents (both currently in New Orleans and still evacuated all over the country) are some tough sons of bitches. God bless all of you. When I think of how hot and humid New Orleans gets, I want to cry. I could not hack it - I'm just too weak.

Speaking of Phoenix, lest I forget, those mofo's out West are troopers, too. When it's 120 every day with no end in sight, it doesn't matter how much humidity you have - you're living in an oven. The heat is bringing out the serial killers out there. Like my good friend from Phoenix said in a message a while back, "It's like Summer of Sam up in here! The heat is getting to people's BRAINS!!" Carry on, my wayward sons. There'll be peace when you are done. Or maybe a breeze or two, at the very least.

I can't tell you what, in this lifetime of ours, I'll definitely be doing in the next few weeks, but I can guaran-DAMN-tee you that there will be many many baths, showers, glasses of iced tea with lemon and mint, and ceiling fans blowing so hard that they come close to taking flight.

If anyone needs me tonight, I'll be on my terrace, angry about the heat, listening to Tom Waits bellow about whatever he's angry about (Bone Machine will be in the player), and praying for buckets and sheets of rain.