Buzz kill

July 23, 2006 at 11:24 pm (Uncategorized)

So I’m starting my seasonal panic. July is on its way out and all we have left is August. September is right on the heels of that and beyond it, cold dark death. The death of snow banks, penis shrinking cold, and night that falls at 3 p.m.

Few people are more irritating than me when late summer desperation begins. Every day must involve some form of recreation involving the sun. Every meal must be cooked on the grill, even if it’s cold cereal. I refuse to go to bed because summer nights are the best, and I won’t wear long pants even at a funeral.

Tick-friggin-tock, people. In six weeks, we could have a frost. It will be time to put away window fans and turn on the heat. Days will get woefully shorter and the beaches will be too cold to swim in. Instead of the sweet smell of mown grass, you’ll get the scrotum crawling sound of shovels scraping down to pavement. Instead of drives with the windows down, you’ll have white knuckle excursions on tires that slip on snow slicked roads.

As the terminall morose Jim Morrison said: “Morning found us calmly unaware/noon burned gold into our hair/at night we swam the laughing sea/when summer’s gone… Where will we be?”

I need more time. I need to embrace summer as if we were drunken lovers. I need a goddamn vacation.

Which I will get starting next weekend. Heading north, my friends. Gonna swim naked, sleep in a tent and drink a mile of Pabst Blue Ribbon. For that week, the blog will be taken over by a mystery administrator who will probably cause barfights and bodily mishaps. Prepare yourselves. And if you have any burning thoughts you want to share, send them to me and I’ll pass them along to be posted in my absence. Deviant sexual confessions are welcomed.