Hot Hot Heat

Goddamn, it's hot. And not in the "wow, I'm sweaty" way, but in the "this transcends sweat and my feeble lungs can barely wring any element of oxygen out of this smog/smoke/humidity cocktail I'm trying to pass off as oxygen" way. I am sure you are aware of this. But I thought I would just bring it to your attention again.

However, it is too cold in my office. I feel like my body is going to tell me to fuck right off because it is so confused. Also, I still want iced coffee or a root beer float.

The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants is a good movie. I bawled. It was cathartic.
Under the Tuscan Sun is okay. I spent most of it wondering how these American women could just pack up and live in Tuscany indefinitely. Is there some "bitter woman" visa? Because if there is, I want in on that shit.

Jason Varitek will be out for a month. I'm surprised my neighbor didn't come running when I cried out in dismay. I feel like a visual representation of the Red Sox at this point would be a cartoon jalopy puffing smoke from the hood, bopping up and down, essential pieces flying off, while the occupants (fans) look vaguely nauseous and unsure if they'll make it to the end of the journey.

At least I have my precious Project Runway to keep me happy tonight. Tim Gunn will kick someone off the show. I am so excited!