How to make the perfect hot-weather cocktail
Here’s a recipe I found yesterday:
- Look at weather before you head home from work.
- Cry.
- You’re already pretty disgusting just from moving around during the day, not to mention walking outside for lunch, not to mention your morning commute where you sat next to some dude who works at Comcast and was sending confidential emails on his laptop which you could totally see, because, hello, who sends confidential emails on the train with the world’s biggest professional Nosy Person sitting right next to them?
- Walk outside.
- Test the waters.
- Stick your nose out.
- It feels like this, and you’re wearing a cardigan. But also you realize you have no right to complain since the guy in the picture is 60 and doing desert marathons and you’re walking half a mile to the train and then half a mile from the station home. But then again. It’s hot. So screw that. You feel like Albert and you need those boots that look like Hefty bags, damnit.
- Walk the half mile to the train station, which involves walking past construction workers, cars almost running over you because this is Philly and we know how to drive, and working out your pecs by and carrying your laptop which doesn’t sound too heavy, but oh it is because there is a TON of shit in that laptop case and when was the last time you cleaned it out?
- Then your mom calls.
- Walk and talk, walk and talk. It’s still really hot, and by this point you’re starting to sweat.
- Walkin down into the SEPTA station. On days like today, it smells more like urine than ever. Today, it’s more of a warm urine afterscent.
- Wait for the train.
- Train is 15 minutes late.
- Keep waiting for train.
- More people crowd onto platform.
- Keep waiting.
- Train is 17 minutes late.
- Say screw this and take another train.
- That train is 2 minutes late.
- Sit next to woman who constantly fans herself with the Metro paper.
- There is no AC on the train and you feel like you’re essentially inside a moving hot dog.
- Train takes forever to get to your stop.
- At one point, you fall asleep.
- Or pass out. You’re not sure.
- You get to your station, then start walking home.
- It’s still 92 degrees, the only difference is that now you are soaked in your own sweat and the perfume of the woman sitting next to you.
- You’re halfway up the hill when your dad calls.
- You’ve been planning your mom’s birthday party with your dad for the past three weeks, which means you’ve been planning it. It involves a rental in the Poconos, which is insane to procure right now. But somehow, you’ve procured it and are almost ready to sign the direct deposit when….. Pessimistic Dad says, “I think we need to change course. Maybe we should go to the not Poconos? I found a place somewhere else?”
- You say, “Dad, I’m going to have to call you back because if I talk to you right now, I’m going to murder you through the phone.”
- Husband calls.
- You take off your shirt, wring it, creating a small lake that a passing-by dog can drink on the sidewalk. You put your shirt back on. It feels like the Amazon.
- Husband calls. Getting your hopes up that he’s home and can come get you.
- “What’s up,” jerk husband says from his cool air-conditioned car.
- “Oh, nothing. Just walking home. Also dying.”
- “Oh. I’m at work. See you at home!”
- Murder husband through the phone.
- Somehow walk the rest of the way, walk into your airconditioned house. Husband comes downstairs.
- “Don’t talk to me, I’m angry and hot and jungle-like,”
- Husband hides.
- Go into the kitchen.
- Open a champagne bottle that has been patiently waiting in the fridge.
- Pour that whole sucker into a glass.
- Slouch against the counter and drink it without taking a break.
- Oh, but you also found some cherries in the fridge.
- Right next to the chocolate.
- The world is so beautiful.