Summer Storm

I failed to remark on the first day of summer yesterday...

[*koff*]

...

New York City has some of the shittiest summers on the planet.

There, I said it. Malice doesn't like the summer. So, crucify me. The thick, humid air, the disgusting subways, work clothes drenched in sweat. My work clothes are shitty enough, they gotta be drenched in sweat? FUCK YOU, SUMMER. Why don't you go get fucked? I mean it. Get out. Pack your bags and beat it. And I want my cd's back, you heat-seeking whore...

Wait, wait, wait... okay, I'm sorry. It's not you, it's the job. It's gettin' to me, baby. I didn't mean to take it out on you. Come back here, let's talk this out. I know I said some bad things, but we're gonna be together we may as well make the best of things, right? What say you and me do something this weekend? Something nice...