… to let the masses (all two of them) know I’m back?
I keep thinking of crap I want to bitch about when I’m at work (and who doesn’t), but then I get home and it’s so fucking hot I just want to lay on the couch under the ceiling fan (along with the central air) and curse the month of August for ever being allowed onto the calendar.
It really is the month from hell if you live here. Seriously.
Snog Mother Nature all you want, Satan! As long as my air works, your puny efforts to melt the flesh from my bones will be thwarted! I even wrote a haiku about it. It goes something like this…
Woe to thee, Satan!
Thou hast burned my underwear!
Look thee on mine arse!