It has been a sweltering weekend in the city of Brotherly Love – hot enough to make your balls stick to the side of your legs (didn’t come up for one for the ladies, but if you have one, you are more than welcome to post). These are the days you thank God for air conditioning.
I decided to mow the lawn after work on Friday, and it is a good thing I did, because one can barely breathe, it is so hot outside. Sure enough, in a couple of days, we will be hearing stories of heat-related deaths – probably most coming from South Philly homes that don’t even have fans in them.
These are the days when all you feel like doing (if you do not have access to a pool) is sit in front of a television set, and hope to God that you don’t have to suffer through an 1990’s Chevy Chase movies (with the exception of Vegas Vacation – that one wasn’t too bad).
Barbecues during this time of year are the worst. I went to one yesterday, and for the most part, it wasn’t too bad. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy hanging around with friends, eating charred flesh, and drinking booze. But, when your body is spitting out sweat at an uncontrollable rate, things tend to get a little uncomfortable.
Last night, it felt like a sauna. The haze didn’t let up, even hours after the sun went down. Luckily, I remembered to bring a second t-shirt, because the first one was wetter than Paris Hilton at a sausage party (I know, that one was low). But, hey, I’d rather sweat like that than be working.