Friday, August 22, 2014

Channeling Larry David.

So it was about 136 degrees outside this afternoon. And I sweat when it gets above 72. And I'm in my suit in my car where it's 508 degrees. So hot I can't touch the steering wheel and I burn my fingers on the metal seat belt. I'm not sweating, I'm squirting. The perspiration is squirting out of me like from one of those perforated lawn watering hoses. And I have to be in court.

I'm driving and I am physically miserable. I take a nicotine gum out of my pocket but the heat has made it so soft it won't pop out of the foil thing. I clean my glasses, unbutton my shirt, mop my brow, I itch and I'm sticky. Everything is stuck together. I try to "adjust myself" over my trousers. No. I stick my hand down my pants but I'm on the highway now, I've got a seatbelt on, I've got a belt on my trousers and I...can't...get my hand...all the way down there. 

I unzpip my fly. Direct action. I stick my hand in there. I stick my hand in there and realize that since my cleaning lady didn't come Tuesday I was all out of clean clothes this morning and had to wear one of my daughter's shorts as boxers. No fly.

I have to open up more. I unclamp my pants, arch my back, open my legs, I'm off the seat now and my head is touching the ceiling of the car, stick my hand in, take my hand out, in out, in out until I...get to where I have to go and I'm rounding a curve and have drifted a little. I look over and...the lady, the lady in the car to my left, who evidently has been watching me for several seconds squirming around doing something! with my left arm down in my crotch, up down, up down, is eesing me, staring hard straight at me.

I slowed down a little so that she would pass me and couldn't get my license plate number.