If the lack of women running around breast feeding newborn dragons wasn’t enough to convince me that Game of Thrones takes places in a mythical land, then the constant mentions of winter would do the trick. Winter not only isn’t coming to Phoenix, that bitch hasn’t even stopped by in my lifetime.
Every year, I, along with every other person in Maricopa County, participate in an endurance event called, “How Long Can I Go Before I Turn On My Air Conditioner?”. It’s a last man standing, sort of like the Hunger Games, but with way more ball sweat (p.s….I don’t actually have balls, but if I did…fully drenched for 9 months a year). There are some assholes who try and get away with technicalities by using their swamp coolers for a few weeks, without actually turning on their real AC. (Do they have swamp coolers in other places? Is this an Arizona phenomenon?)
In the coming weeks, we will watch our fellow competitors fall, one by one, as they invariably post their surrender on Facebook. This year, my goal is May. I will make it to May without succumbing to suckling at the freon fueled teat of AC. (This post has way too many alarming breast feeding references…time to up the meds.) Being that it is, now, April 19th, I think that my chances are excellent, however, should I succumb to actually allowing a human being, other than family, into my home…all bets are off. A hostess should always think of the comfort of her guests…and a hostess should never have ball sweat.