Blog. It's hot. Like, really hot.
I don't mean to make this all about the weather, but I'm finding it hard not to be exhausted from the simple act of typing. Kerin said it was 99 degrees this morning when she came into work. Bill Deville just told me it's 80 degrees outside. It's 11 o'clock at night blog. It should never be 80 degrees at 11 o'clock at night.
That being said, it's all better than lameass 15 degrees in January. You can't walk down to Sebastian Joe's with your best friend for some impromptu ice cream when it's 15 degrees in January. And that's why winter's a bitch, blog.
Why didn't I follow my instincts and find some sort of fan at Target today on my lunch break? The facade of the temperature-controlled environment in which I work strikes again!
In other news, I was going to write about something magical and now I've completely forgotten what it was. Oh yes! I revamped you blog. How do you like it? I figured argyle was an appropriate motif. It makes you look smarter than you really are. I know that sounds like it's a diss on you, but remember blog, I created you. I insult you, I insult myself. It's just more of the self deprecation that I so constantly crave.
The heat is fucking up my thoughts. I'm going to go attempt to sit as still as possible and see where that gets me.