It's Too Darn Hot.

Oh Cole Porter, you brilliant man.

I've been putting a lot of my resources into writing non-blog things, and drawing my strip, and tragically what happens when the weather is this hot and all-encompassing, I tend to just draw pictures of myself saying, "Damn, it's hot."

Also, in the hot weather my writing takes a turn for the worse. I'm sure it could be very good, if only I knew what it was I had written when I go back at read it. You see that typo back there? Yes. I have some sort of encryption built in, and whe nthe weather is hot, I turn into Ed Harris in The Abyss, after he'd gone down the great big hole. I'm not sure if I'd like aliens helping me out right now, as I would not be the one to persuade them to save humaity--that's humanity to the non-bleary--and I'd have a lot of explaining to do to my neighbors when the tidal wave took out their nice five-car garage. (Director's cut of The Abyss only.)

Resigned to stay indoors if I want to live to see the end of season 3 of So You Think You Can Dance? (and I do), I'm currently making nice co-ordinated covers for my computer parts and trying to win at Scrabble Scramble and 3-card Solitare. It's very much like the stay at the happy home many (all in my head) thought I required back in the '80s.

Are these the most exciting things I've been doing? Probably not, but I can't bloody remember anything else. My mind, much like the wiring in my house, is faulty in the hot weather, and we've been narrowly avoiding a blackout for three days. Provided I continue my habit of sitting in the dark when I want my computer, everything should be fine. Naked smoking man's got an air conditioner now, though, so the whole block may overload at any minute.

It's Too Darn Hot.