Tuesday, July 25, 2006

We're having a heat wave.....

I am now convinced that global warming exists.


Because it’s #$&^ing hot that’s why!

Who did we piss off to deserve this weather?

This is San Diego for Christ’s sake.

It’s not even a dry heat.

It’s a wet heat.

Wet heat sucks.

I was sitting here roasting on Saturday flipping the channels between CNN, FOX and MSNBC trying to see if I could catch a missile hit.

Watching war in the Middle East is a lot like watching NASCAR. It’s pretty boring until something catches fire, crashes, or blows up. Plus let’s face it; everyone who lives in the Middle East seems to have the same dental issues as NASCAR fans.

The women don’t dress the same though. You don’t seem to have those scantily clad NASCAR sluts in the Middle East.

It dawned on me while I was flipping channels that maybe the real reason these people are so pissed off is the heat. They live in the desert. I’m disgruntled and I live in San Diego. If I lived in that desert heat I might blow myself up too.

Has anyone given any thought to moving Israel to Samoa? You don’t hear too much about Samoa. I think Israel could pretty much take Samoa in a fair fight. Plus they wouldn’t have to worry about their borders.

The only problem would be the Israelis gaining a lot of weight. That happens when you live in Samoa. Pretty soon we’d be seeing Israeli offensive linemen in the NFL. Ariel Ben Tuiasosopu.


Too politically incorrect?

It must be the heat.

What was I trying to get to here?

I remember now.

Sunday morning my wife was complaining about how hot it was. So I, like the conscientious and caring husband that I am, suggested she go to Vons with me to do the grocery shopping. It would be nice and cool there and then we could go someplace afterwards and get a nice sandwich or salad for lunch.

That’s what I was thinking.

I thought of that on my own.

I am an idiot.

As I was making the offer one of the voices in my head said:

“You are an idiot.”

Another voice popped up and said:

“He’s not an idiot he’s a kind and caring husband.”

“He’s just trying to get laid and it isn’t going to happen because it’s too friggin hot. Plus he’s been grocery shopping with her before and it would be easier and less painful to just slam his penis in the car door.”

I should know better. Thirty seconds after we went into Vons…….

“Hurry up it’s too cold. Do we have to go down that aisle? That aisle is too cold. Why do you want balsamic vinaigrette? I like regular Italian dressing. Why do you start in this aisle? I’m cold. Did I tell you that I’m cold? We’re not going down the frozen food aisle it’s too cold. Every time we come here we see someone we know. Look at me. Do I look okay? I’m not wearing any makeup. Damn it’s cold. Take me home I need to pee.”

Cinderella Cinderella, night and day its Cinderella……..

And the voices in my head say........

“Dude, just tell her to suck it up. She wants to go out into the miserable heat let her go. Be a man; don’t take this crap from her. You outweigh her by 150 pounds!”

“Don’t listen to him. She owns a sword.”

“Pussy, be a man.”

“Don’t do it Tone. It ain’t worth the aggravation.”

“You know sweetheart why don’t you go wait outside where it’s nice and warm." (While I kill a chicken and sacrifice it to the god of grocery shopping to ask for forgiveness for bringing you here.)

There are certain things that according to women men can’t do correctly ever.

One is picking the correct lane on the freeway. Two is finding the correct parking space.... um.... anywhere. Three is picking the correct checkout lane at the grocery store.

And we get no help. Because some old guy with coupons that expired in 1987 for creamed corn is going to be arguing with the clerk. And you’re going to pull up behind him.


That’s what I wanted to say.

If she didn’t own that sword.

But then, because luck is laughing at me, I needed a price check on..... balsamic vinaigrette.

“I told you to get the Italian dressing.”

“Yes I know I planned it this way. I’m just testing the clerk. It’s part of their new union agreement with Vons. Random price checking.”

“Uh, did he say that out loud?”

“Hey it wasn’t me.”

“Well it wasn’t me either.”

“He’s already given up on the sex thing huh?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well he doesn’t need us anymore.”

“I think you won that one.”

“I don’t know, he really wasn’t tough with her, he was just being a smartass.”

“Okay let’s call it a draw.”


“Helloooo. Voices in my head. You can’t have a discussion without me.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Uh I was just talking to myself. Kind of a Zen thing. You know, centering myself before I load up the car. I want to put the groceries in the car ala Feng Shui. It makes the drive more pleasurable.”

“Don’t make me hurt you. Now hurry up and let’s get home.”

“I get dibs on the downstairs bathroom.”

“You what?”

“I get dibs on the downstairs bathroom.”


“I need to pee too. I think it’s the heat.”


“Well what do you want me to do? Invade a country?”