Bubbles, while a popular stripper name in days of yore, are something you can still enjoy today. Our dog loves to leap, chase and well, just munch on them in a game he’ll play until exhausted. We limit his bubble reps, though, as too much in this heat is not kind to, nor good for, him.
The heat of summer upon us makes us long to remain indoors unless we’re by a beach or pool where we can take the occasional dip to cool off before getting all hot and sweaty again.
I like the fact that you only require a minimal amount of clothing in the summertime. My eyes, more than any part of my body, get a supreme workout when I attend outdoor concert festivals like Forecastle. We stayed to hear St. Paul and The Broken Bones, who were excellent, but ended up being little more than musical accompaniment to all the eye exercises myself and many of the festival concert-goers were indulging in.
It was so hot that women in flowing skirts were wishing they had on the short shorts that many of their counterparts did.
It was so hot that I thought I heard someone announce over the PA system not to dance too fast for fear of risking dehydration.
It was so hot that the record for per minute evaporation rate for adult beverages was set not once, twice, but three times in the short hour and a half we were there.
It was so hot I wished I had an ice cream and Italian ice stand set up; I would have killed it.
It was so hot I was thinking a “Fanning” booth would have been a great vehicle for creating goodwill among hot and bothered festival goers.
It was so hot that Gold Bond was practically worthless as a sweat prevention aid.
It was so hot I was hallucinating there’re not enough golf courses in the United States.
It was so hot people could only hold hands for 90 seconds before becoming sweaty.
It was so hot I kept sweating even after entering a restaurant for something to eat after leaving the festival grounds. Truth be told, A/C was straining to be effective in many adjacent dining establishments and pubs, so I was not sweating alone.
It was so hot that while there were hordes of people in close quarters, everybody kind of smelled alright, but I can’t say for sure if that was just my sense of smell (which isn’t very good) playing tricks on me.
It was so hot, and beer prices so outrageous, I easily chose the $7 PBR over the $11 craft beer. The old favorite brought a smile to my face as it went down cold and smooth.
It was so hot I wondered if I’d ever run out of, “It was so hot…” paragraph intros.
It was so hot I started wondering if anyone there was named Bubbles.
It was so hot I wondered if we’d see streaking make a comeback.
It was very hot, but not that hot.
It was so hot that now it’s time for more Bubbles—the game and name that never get old.
Have fun and stay cool.
Categories: Human Interest