July 06, 2004

Symptoms of heat stroke may include dizziness, shortness of breath, and paranoia.

Lord-dee it's hotter than a, than a (I don't know, make up your own folksy saying; dazzle me) out there. Part-way through our morning walk my dog was like enough already and turned tail to get back to the AC. Even the city employees doing road work on my street are all slumped over on their flatbeds, unable to continue the useless milling around they need to do in order to stretch a three-day job into a year and a half. It's Sahara hot, Mojave hot. Hot, hot, hot. Yet each and every little old neighborhood lady insists on wearing a sweater -- over her (markedly non-tangerine) muumuu and stockings. Do they do this to taunt us? Is it a part of the Greatest Generation's plot to torture us with guilt, point out how (unlike them) we're just a bunch of whining assholes who were given the world on a silver-plated platter and yet STILL find things to bitch about? Well it's not workin' Grandma! I saw that bead of sweat trickling down your arm flaps. I'm so on to you.

Posted by Antigeist at July 6, 2004 11:40 AM
Comments

Hotter Than Georgia Asphalt?
Hotter Than a Red-Assed Bee?
Hotter than West Texas Chili?
Hotter than a jogging whore’s crotch?

Posted by: monk at July 6, 2004 12:05 PM

Hotter than Hell's Bagels?

Posted by: monk at July 6, 2004 12:07 PM

All good ones. Lemme try. Hotter than a...

a...
a...

Nope. I still got nothin'.

Posted by: antigeist at July 6, 2004 12:23 PM

hotter than the starter pistol at the quadroplegics' decathlon?

Posted by: monk at July 6, 2004 12:48 PM

Or how about...Hotter than the Devil's, no, hotter than the breath of... wait a sec. Um, hotter than a penny that's been left in a, on a, the train tracks, and then the train comes, and um, the friction smooshes it...

I am so not cut out for this.

Posted by: antigeist at July 6, 2004 01:00 PM

Let's see if I can try to channel my grandmother.

Hotter than a two dollar pistol?

Hot as a boiled toad?

And of course, her top two:

Hotter'n blue blazes.

Hotter'n the gates of Hades.

Posted by: Maud at July 6, 2004 02:05 PM

But I like the jogging whore's crotch one.

Posted by: Maud at July 6, 2004 02:06 PM

Hotter than a bladder infection.

You're welcome.

Posted by: Chico at July 6, 2004 02:18 PM

Now that's Maud's grandma is in the house, I suggest we give up. Seriously. You can't beat Grandma Maud. Her sayings come out faster than crap through a tin horn. (That last bit courtesy of my channeled grandma.)

Posted by: antigeist at July 6, 2004 02:18 PM

so you don't want "hotter than Verdine White's electric toothbrush"?

Posted by: monk at July 6, 2004 02:51 PM

Now THAT would be one mu'fuggin HOT toothbrush.

(For anyone unfamiliar; Verdine White is the bassist for Earth, Wind, and Fire --but more importantly, a life-long proponent of good oral hygiene.)

Posted by: antigeist at July 6, 2004 03:52 PM

I'm fresh out of similies, but I must be one of the old folks deep down, because even in this heat, I'm still wearing one of my trademark plaid flannel shirts. Hell, I usually still wear one indoors at home, even when I remove my trousers.

The reasons for this are manifold. One, I need a place to keep my smokes. Two, force of habit ( I even wore my flannels when I lived in Florida. And three, they're kind of my security blanket: no matter what changes might be going on in my life, if I have my flannel on, I'm still me. Plus when I walk around bare-chested or in just a t-shirt, I look like an Auschwitz escapee, so it's best for all concerned if the Pendleton stays in place.

Posted by: jonmc at July 6, 2004 04:05 PM
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