Somehow I Have Failed To Train The Dachshund To Fan Me Properly

I am not much of a sweat-er (as in I don't sweat so much but I guess I am not actually a knit garment either) but the last couple of days here in the Northwest have turned me into one of the pit-stained masses.

It has been in the high nineties, which I know is making some of you in other parts of the country PTHHHHHB in derision but I would like to remind you of a couple of important details.

1. We are total weenies here.
2. None of us have air conditioners.

Now this isn't poor planning, because you can't even buy a house with air conditioning here. It is only hot enough to even turn it on about three days a year. But man, we are on day three and JESUS JUNIOR it is hot in here.

We went and saw Jeff Dunham last night with my mom and dad (I know! My dad left the house! Never fucking happens!). Beyond the fucking kerfuffle with the Moore Theatre (which will lead to a bitchy call to the theatre manager tomorrow) and Ticketmaster we had a delightful time. But I have never seen a sweatier man in my entire life. The poor guy was a little surprised I think to realize that a large theatre, packed to the gills with people has no air conditioning. I thought he was going to pass out.

All of us in the balcony are guzzling waters and pondering the pools of sweat in our underwear and the only person in the place who is happy is my mother. Who, thanks to her very fucked up internal thermostat, is comfortable for the first time since last year's hottest weekend of the year.

My father tells me that Friday night they go to the mall, where the rest of the city is trying to cool off in the air conditioning, and my mother is wearing a hooded sweatshirt.

By the way, I am disappointed that no one that reads my blog is a Project Runway fan and recognized the title of the last entry as a Tim Gunnism. I also am sad to note that no one voted on the shoes which means I either am being fooled by my sister as my only reader wildly clicking away pumping up my stats (in which case click more, they aren't really that impressive) or I have vastly over-estimated how much y'all give a shit about my shoes.

I am going to go sit in front of a fan and eat ice cream.