“It’s so damn hot! Milk was a bad choice.”
It’s muggy out. The window and door are open in hopes of luring a breeze into my attic apartment. Remnants of my macaroni and cheese dinner sit in the bowl and pot waiting to be scrubbed. My shirt lays in a heap beside me; long discarded in my attempts to stay cool. My tan, muscled upper body glistens with sweat as I rub lotion on my firm pecs. My abs jut out like……..uhhhhh no you did not see that. hahahaha Do you see how hot it is here??? I’m starting to write like one of those trashy grocery store checkout line novelists; the ones who go by names such as Laura Silverstein, or Barbara Sheldon but whom you know are balding, overweight men in bifocal lenses.
The whole city is swimming in sweat, it smells like. Today, I walked by a large man on the subway platform and almost doubled over in dusgust. His B.O. hit me like a sledgehammer. Maybe that naked guy at UC Berkley had a good idea. I think I’ll try it tomorrow.
