Summer. Fuck, I love this.
I’ve made the mistake of going out with summer-haters in the past, and I’m pretty intent not to do that again. Sissy bitches whining about the heat turn me off when I’m sitting there craving this shit for nine months of the year.
And I mean whining about the heat when it hits 22 degrees, not if it’s 30 or something. [75F vs 90F.] When it’s actually HOT, whining about it can make some sense. But 22? I’m gonna put up with three straight months of “Oh, it’s so hot?” Fuck. Grow some, wouldja? Geez.
There’s pretty much nothing I dislike about summer.
Except its shortness. So, here’s to not wasting a goddamned bit of it, then.