What was the theme for August again?
Whatever it was, I propose we change it to: August, hot as a crotch, nowhere near as fun.
Not that it's hot here, except metaphorically. I feel like a frog in boiling water, have the attention span of a flea, and am laboring under psychic tragedy and too much work. I can't wait for Labor Day.
Not that it's hot here, except metaphorically. I feel like a frog in boiling water, have the attention span of a flea, and am laboring under psychic tragedy and too much work. I can't wait for Labor Day.

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