"Pretty soon you'll be complaining about the cold."
No. I won't. I can put on another sweater. And gloves. And a coat and a hat and leggings and more socks.
I'm buck naked right now and it's still hot. Not just naked and still hot, but Buck Naked. That's the most naked a person can be.
"Heat, ma'am! It was so dreadful here, I found there was nothing left for it but to take off my flesh and sit in my bones." ~ Sydney Smith, Lady Holland's Memoir
What I hate most is what happens in my neighborhood. My underwear neighborhood. I never wear a thong on purpose, but when my normally reliable cotton underpants get sweaty (yes, I said sweaty underpants), they start that anti-gravity slide up the crack and before long they're stuck up there. Look around. Have you ever seen so many people picking their underpants out of their bums?
There is also the hot, sweaty boob crease. Women and fat men know it - that area just beneath the breasts or moobs where the sun never shines. I'm putting Secret there now. It helps a little. I'm so grateful I don't have testicles. I think there is a band named Sweaty Balls.
The heat is making me feel a little light headed. Confused. Slow. Stupid. I don't aim to do nuthin'. Ah cain't hardly move an' I sure cain't talk fast.
That must be what's wrong with people in Alabama. Melted brains.
The good news is men now know how a hot flash feels.
©2011 Mimi McMouth
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