You are wrong.
You are not right.
How dare you think something that I don’t agree with.
Summer is the worst and I have years of experience and evidence to prove it.
First, how dare you cute little Asian girl at Target who looks good in shorts.
I see you and your cool Asian boyfriend and yes, I’m offended. No one looks good in shorts and that’s why summertime was created by Satan. The fact that you come strolling in to Target with shorts and a T-shirt on is disrespectful to me and America and I do not stand for that, ma’am. You can stay at home and look good in your blue jean shorts, but I will not be forced to see your tiny legs being thrown in my face.
Secondly, I cry every time I leave the house.
It’s not fun. Even just walking from my apartment to my car is an act of God and something the United Nations should look into rewarding me for. As I’m walking, I’m crying and I look like I’m in a bad episode of the Bachelor, but instead of going home, I’m just going to get Taco Bueno in the hot heat. The heat is hot.
Don’t even get me started on the ocean or the swimming pool.
But now that you have, no. Beaches are made for crabs and that’s it. And swimming pools belong to people who enjoy skin cancer. I don’t enjoy that. I take cancer very seriously and Chris Kyle did not fight for my rights to bake by a pool while watching a bunch of undergrads play Marco Polo or something. Or that other game. Chicken? I think it’s Chicken. Children.
The sweat going down my back and butt makes me feel gross.
You know the feeling. Do not sit there and read this and pretend you’ve never been outside flirting with some guy when all of a sudden you feel sweat going down your back and then on to your butt. The terrorists are winning every time you feel that.
I should not have to celebrate when the temperature goes down to 96 degrees. That should not be a cold front. Whoever invented global warming, I’m looking at you, Al Gore, should be put away in a hot jail because now I’m mad.