Mother Nature is a Whore

Well, it’s finally gotten hot enough (fire and brimstone) that I don’t leave the house unless it’s on fire.  I wake up every morning and think it’s on fire because my flesh is burning and I can’t breathe, but then I walk outside, the humidity hits me (melting the make up from my face like ice cream on asphalt and causing my freshly straightened hair to poof into an afro), and I realize my house is one of the few places not touched by Satan’s fiery embrace.  I’m fairly certain Mother Nature is in league with Lucifer, or at the very least, riding his pole of molten lava like a hooker on X.

Sometimes I wish I could punch Mother Nature in the head.  I’m sure it wouldn’t change the three digit heat index, but it sure would give me a warm fuzzy.  Not that I’m not warm enough already. [/sarcasm]

Of course, once August is over, I’ll probably be back to avoiding my computer.

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4 Responses to Mother Nature is a Whore

  1. Tracy says:

    Ah, so you are back! Thank God! Where the hell have you been? Tell me everything. Do it now, right here in comments.

  2. faux pas says:

    Swoon! I love it when you’re bossy!

    I’ll email you.

    Don’t hold me to that, though. I have presenile dementia today.

  3. Michele says:

    WELCOME BACK. I’ve missed you.

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