Is it fall yet?

Picture me gritting my teeth. Please envision me making a fist, pursing my pouty lips and flaring my nostrils. Then imagine I'm breathing heavy and turning red and reaching for a very large hammer. Now run away.

I'm having system issues. Both at work AND at home. Problems that make my computers freeze, lock, hang, swoon, hiccup, block, weep, gossip, binge, purge, write bad checks, and in all general terms of intense annoyance NOT FUCKING WORK RIGHT.

My work puter acts like a surly teenager sunk deep into the couch and barely lifts their half-lidded eyes when you ask it to do something. Now, please. Right now. Please do it now. NOW! RIGHT NOW. FOR FUCKSSAKE GET OFF YOUR ASS AND DO IT NOW! But they still don't move a slack muscle and in fact fall into a deep and comatose sleep while you wait and wait and stomp your feet and have a stroke and get very pissed, not accomplishing what you want to do.

Half the sites I try to open simply won't, half the links on this blog are now blocked, and random pics are missing then show up then go missing again. In a word. It sucks. Right in the middle of trying to post this entry Blogger was blocked for not being a "work related" site. RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE. They're so on to me. Assholes.

And now my system at home has apparently been bogged down by the 20,000 photos I've (accidentally many, many times) uploaded and (accidentally) shared between 4 different editing programs and/or it's haunted since my keyboard decides not to work whenever it damn well feels like it.

This all leads to much rebooting, frustration, hair pulling, screaming, tantrums, and threats of throwing heavy equipment onto the ground in hopes it will implode in a fiery mass of shitty non-working wires and motherboards. Not to mention the massive cramp that's been put into my time-wasting at my retarded job and creative-outlet avoiding at home because gawd knows I have the patience of a short statured flea and cannot wait 60 seconds for a page to load.

Christ. Almighty.

Hopefully I can at least get things running better at home because I'm close to going crazy and I don't think whitey can handle one more of my whining fits while I pound my hands on a dead keyboard growling like a drunk monkey. It's not attractive, is what I'm saying.

~~~~~

We've finally gotten a weather break and the temps have gone from uninhabitable to I think I'll keep my skin after all. It was hotter than Satan's balls in a broiler pan the entire Labor Day weekend and any hint of a possible plan to venture out of the house was scrapped when I heard a warning on the radio to be careful while driving since the heat could cause hot tires to explode. What is this, Phoenix for crapsake?

I didn't step outside but about 4 times from Saturday afternoon until Tuesday morning. Although I was desperate to take a photo of something other than the cat and the one flower that's still alive on my patio so I took an early morning walk around my neighborhood on Monday.

It wasn't even 9:00 a.m. yet and within 100 yards of my front door I had sweat rolling down my back and steam fogging my sunglasses. The shorts I was wearing were made of cotton and defective lycra and have a tendency to lose their shape a little bit and while I walked around they began to slip down to a level lower than appropriate. And because I was so sticky with sweat when I crouched down to shoot a rose I plumber-cracked my entire neighborhood and those damn shorts got stuck like that. I pulled and tugged and balanced camera equipment with holding my pants up and finally said fuck it and went home, took a cold shower and stayed the fuck inside.

Summer really belongs to kids anyway. No school. All play all the time. Swimming. Games. Hide-n-seek until the street lights came on then running home for a bar-b-que'd dinner. Sugary, cold popsicles for dessert. It was non-stop good times. Well, most of it.

Like 90% of the houses on our street we had a pool, which was a blast, but swimming on the day the pool man came meant chemical poisoning and squinty eyes for the night. How the hell we didn't all grow an extra head I don't know.

All of us kids would watch whatever cute high school boy was working his summer job throw a handful of this and a cup of that then a thingamajig into the deep end where bubbles would rise and fizz and a soup of caustic substances would be deposited into our wet playland to keep it fresh and blue. We'd barely make it the requisite hour waiting time then happily jump in, swimming and splashing for hours, getting out smelling like a fresh jug of bleach and unable to see. It was great.

And I don't think our parents ever let us in the house. We were ordered outside all damn day no matter how effing hot it was. Although I really can't blame them. We were dirty rats getting into all kinds of trouble and I wouldn't want 5 unruly hooligans dripping otter pops all over my light colored carpet. (Didn't those things rip the shit out of your mouth? It was worth it but damn.)

Now I associate summer with blinding sun, migraines, chafed tits, and a searing hot steering wheel. Ah well. At least now I don't smell like chlorine, I can spend the whole weekend in bed if I want to and my AC unit could put frost on your ovaries. And that, my friends, is what I call a good time.