It is 113° F in LA today – Pasadena is always hotter than LA. I don’t even want to know.
All I can think of this…“Hey, can you tell me what’s your name? “My name is Roosevelt E. Roosevelt.” Roosevelt, what town are you stationed in? “I’m stationed in Poontang.” Well, thank you, Roosevelt. What’s the weather like out there? “It’s hot! Damn hot! Real hot! Hottest things is my shorts. I could cook things in it. A little crotch pot cooking.” Well, tell me what it feels like. “Fool, it’s hot! I told you again! Were you born on the sun? It’s damn hot! It’s so damn hot, I saw little guys, their orange robes burst into flames. It’s that hot! Do you know what I’m talking about?” What do you think it’s going to be like tonight? “It’s gonna be hot and wet! That’s nice if you’re with a lady, but ain’t no good if you’re in the jungle!” Thank you, Roosevelt.”
C’mon…guess the movie!
Also, this…Who is it that everybody listens to but nobody believes? The weatherman.
You can read about this crazy late summer heat wave here, and here, and here. I’m not even exaggerating. It is really hot…like an oven. Here’s to popsicles and ice cream, and air conditioning, and fabric seats in the car, and fans, and swimming pools and dark rooms, cool washcloths. For all of you out there who might be just a touch sad that summer’s over…yeah, I don’t feel bad for you at all. It’s 113°! That is too hot. I don’t even have words for how hot it is.