You’re A Sneaky Bastard, Summer!

It may not technically be summer according to the calendar but it’s summer in my book when my vanity succumbs to my survival instincts and I actually don short shorts and a tank top to go out in public.  Throw your outdoor thermometers away.  The Weather Channel should just stand outside my house and post weather forecasts completely based on the amount of my flesh I am exposing to Southern air.  They could call it the “Flesh Tracker”.  No costly satellites needed.  Jim Cantore can retire to Florida and call his shit done.

Let me count the ways I have always hated summer.

I hate the temps.  If you’re in the South, you also know what humidity that takes your breath away feels like.  It doesn’t get much better when I go back home to Texas in late July.  A couple years ago, my friend “Fantasia” threatened to take my native Texan card away if I complained about the temps one more time.  In my defense, a whole bottle of hand sanitizer exploded in my car.  EXPLODED.  If I would have been in the vehicle when the bottle exploded, I could have been killed or even worse.  It was considered a “cool front” that year if temps got below 114 degrees.  I have located the mouth of hell and it is in or around North Texas.

I hate the fashions, especially when I have “more to love” than usual and I’m really lovable this summer.  I hate trying on swimsuits so much that I skipped it altogether, played swimsuit routlette and ordered online this year.  This is one of the suits I bought:


The ad claims this suit will make you “suddenly slim” so I completely ignored the Law of Horizontal Stripes, figuring it wouldn’t apply to my suddenly slim ass.  I ended up just looking like the damned Hamburglar.

Robble fucking robble.

Now on a personal vendetta against the Law of Horizontal Stripes, this is the second suit I ordered:

No fucks to give. Not one.

It’s like Barney and the Hamburglar had a one night stand and this came out nine months later.  Before anyone asks, and I know they will, Barney was definitely the power bottom in that arrangement.  Hamburglar has done hard time and is through taking that shit.

I hate summer because no matter how much time I spend on my makeup, an hour later I look like a contestant from RuPaul’s Drag Race who got his/her ass kicked by that coffee can full of bacon grease my Granny used to keep on the back of her stove.  Not a cute look, y’all.

I hate summer because I have a problem with swimming pools, aside from the obvious swimsuit debacle.  I can’t enter a public pool without desperately wanting to test the water for urine or even worse things.  I hate the toddlers at the local pool who smirk at me because they can swim better than I can.  One day, I’ll catch them when they’re not wearing their Disney arm floaties and it will be ON.

Before I send summer to therapy, I’ll attempt to find something positive about it.

I love the time off with the kids and the lazy schedule we strictly adhere to.  I’m usually at my fittest in the summer because we grill a lot and I’m more disciplined with my diet and exercise because I’m going home to see family and friends.  That’s another perk of summer, going back to Texas with the kids and seeing those same family and friends.  I love a really ice cold beer and summer was made for that.  I love Sonic Route 44 diet green iced teas.  I love summer action movies.  I love my summer playlist on Spotify, which I created last year and titled “Summer:  Let’s Do This, Fucker”.  I love knowing that on the other side of summer is the reward of fall, football, Halloween, cozy sweaters, knee high boots and mossy green eyeshadow.

Okay, fine.  Let’s hug it out, summer.  You’re not that bad after all, you sneaky SOB.

Let me know in the comments if and why you hate summer as much as I do.  Have a good week, y’all.  I’m down 8.2 pounds!  Woo hoo!


  1. Summer in Florida is not much better. First and foremost, the drought sucks. Not a water drought, it rains every damn day in the Sunshine state at 4:00 PM, on the dot. I am talking about the sports drought. Aside from the NBA, which seems to be year round, and quite frankly, I can tolerate in 30 second ESPN clips only (I don’t think I have ever actually watched an entire NBA game), I am left with fucking horse racing, golf and international bastardized versions of football. Every 4 years there is a slight reprieve with the Olympics but quite frankly, if Ball State and UTEP were playing football, I’d lose my patriotism and watch that instead.
    I haven’t touched much on the weather because it is largely the same as Texas and your beloved Bama. The paint is melting off of my car, I get to trade in the rake for the lawn mower, which I guess is a good thing until they invent a riding rake and I have to start consciously not bite my tongue every time I hear, “its not the heat, its the humidity”.

    1. Dan, I am watching the NBA finals as I write this and I get you on the drought, brother. Of course, anything NOT football is a sports drought to me. And I actually laughed so loud I scared the shit out of my dog when I read your Ball State/UTEP comment. Hold on, another 6 weeks and we’ll be talking football camps. We can make it. Lastly, if the “it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity” thing makes you old… I need to go ahead and start collecting my fucking social security checks. It’s already got me.

  2. Coming from the North Texas Hell you speak of, I can vouch for you that you cannot have as much ass-crack sweat at the mouth of an active volcano as you will get in North Texas. That said, I think the lovechild of Barney and the Hamburger is effing adorable.

    1. The Barney/Hamburglar suit is the most acceptable and doesn’t make me want to run around the pool yelling “Robble robble, fuckers”. As for ass crack sweat in North Texas, I would ask for scientific studies on that but I’ll be there next month.

  3. I LOVE summer!!!!…..and have every since childhood! The kids playing….the ice cream trucks….. There is nothing like summer… October.

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