1512. the next person who begins a conversation with me now using the line "nice weather, isn't it?" will get the reply "nice? how would you like to have all your sweat glands on your back to pour perspiration out, like they were OD-ing steroids, plastering the whole back of your drenched shirt to your sticky skin, not mentioning the heat inside your pair of denim jeans seem like it's microwaving both your legs and your testicles into a swedish snack of shriveled ham and meatballs?" and share an introductory meeting with my shoe on his/her face.
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