Eight reasons why you correctly believe that summer is the stupidest season.
In winter, you can layer to your heart's content. In summer, even if you become a nudist, there's only so much you can take off.
You're always slathering an unappealing substance on your skin: If it's day, you need sunscreen; if it's evening, you need bug spray. (I do not wish to consider where nudists need slather, thank you kindly.)
Amusement parks are overcrowded.
Children are out frolicking, even during weekday mornings. You are sitting behind a desk doing data entry.
Lawns either grow too quickly or whither away and die.
Summer vacations mean that if you have not taken off time from your place of employment, you have to cover for your missing comrades.
From Independence Day through Labor Day, there is a two-month holidayless period; there's not even a Flag Day or Columbus Day to break up the monotony.
Summer ice cream melts.
I have a sunburn. It is not too bad of a sunburn. But it is a sunburn.
oh so lovingly written by
Matthew |
i sincerely do not know what you are doing here. are you lost? were you
looking for your delicate calico cat, and did you follow her up two flights of stairs
to this room? she is not here. she was here, yes. we gave her a warm bowl of milk, we talked with her about campaign finance reform for a time, and then she bid us good day. i believe she was
going to the post office two blocks down, but i don't quite recall.
for surely you did
not find your way from prinsiana, the least traveled site on
the internet. if you did, though, perhaps you are looking for humor. perhaps you are looking for profundity. perhaps you are looking for answers.
i'm sorry, but you shall go naught-for-three.
