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It’s another scorcher! 35 degrees, “real feel” 45. It’s windy though, so I couldn’t be happier. The best weather combination is, without a doubt, hot and windy. If it’s hot outside with no wind, I’ll whip around extra fast on my loyal steed to simulate those conditions. It’s like pointing a hair-dryer up your shorts. You know, that old chestnut. I suspect I would thrive in a desert climate. Like a majestic cactus.

Now for the colorful medieval potato (the look for 2006) part. Most of the gas station attendants in my area are sweet, dainty girls. Fine. What’s not fine, however, is that they’ve recently decided en masse that they no longer want to unscrew gas caps themselves, so they stand there with gas nozzle in hand waiting for clean-handed old me to do it. Call me set in my ways, but I think that if you work at a gas station, you’re the one who should get your hands dirty. These days I just stand there, and we stare at each other for a few awkward Mississippis until they cave and reluctantly unscrew the cap. Can somebody explain this? I don’t exactly need people thinking I’m a gas huffer or a mechanic.