Hot & Bothered

Solstice shmolstice. It’s hot! I don’t care what the law says. Fuck what the science people say. Summer has officially arrived in New York. It’s so gross out! Who really wants to do anything except be enveloped in the breeze of that seasonal machine of wonder, the A/C.? Hello, miracle of miracles!

There is yet another reason to be pissed. Yesterday marked six years since my high school graduation. Last Sunday was one year from my college graduation. A year of graduate school later and I still can’t get a job! As my relationship ameliorates, my luck with employment abates. It is oh so imperative that I work over this hot and costly summer. But, where? Men, food, and fashion aside, I need a job. ¡Díos mio!

Things wif Daniel is better. Now, this? Will we ever be satisfied? If it’s not a relationship that needs to be fixed, it’s our finances. If classes aren't making us crazy, then it’s the weather or our weight. Those Buddhists have the right idea. The less you care about, the less you’ll worry about. And, less worrying means less wrinkles.

Let’s be honest: the best place for a Buddhist Jew is not the New York but the L.A. (Is it hotter in L.A.?) I could never pull off the detachment thing. It’s like pretending not to be attracted to Enrique Iglesias. Who could really feign indifference when it comes to controlled climate, fun music, delicious cuisine, and men who love us even when we put on a few extra pounds?

Not doing a damn thing over the extended weekend really got me thinking about actually working. Clearly, less time fighting wif the BF has meant noticing all of the other things that regularly annoy me. If I could afford it, I’d spend my days reading from my fabulous bed. No one believes me. But, with all there is to dodge, why not lay low wif some literature and liquor? Summer’s here, and I’m hibernating.