Allow me to express the all-consuming misery I feel when Mother Nature unleashes her ability to make New York City feel like the surface of the sun. Or Hell. Or a whole new kind of Hell that is located ON the surface of the sun.
In case you're not following my analogies... It's fucking hot and I am NOT happy about it.
But wait there's more!
These past few days haven't just been hot, they've been humid too! YAY!
From a scientific standpoint, humidity is defined as the amount of water vapor in the air.
From JessHacker's Dictionary for NewYorkers*, humidity is the unbearable moisture that covers your entire body in a thick layer of stickiness as if you just emerged from the depths of a marshy swamp. As a result of the uncontrollable sweating, you take no less than 4 cold showers a day to regain some level of homeostasis. Unfortunately, your efforts will prove utterly useless the minute you put your clothes back on and step out into the un-airconditioned world, where beads of sweat will instantly form on your forehead, mocking your desire to be comfortable.
*This dictionary does not exist. Yet. For now, stick with Merriam Webster.
I've never been to Arizona to experience the "dry heat" that those douchebags always brag about, but I'm starting to think that they may be on to something. I bet chicks out there never have a bad hair day.
I, on the other hand, own** a whole arsenal of hair products that market their "anti-humidity" and "moisture-barrier" capabilities. This, in case you were wondering, is a bigger load of bullshit than World Cup refs not counting USA's goals. Twice.
**waste oodles of money on.
Either way, day after hot and humid day, I apply a different combination of gels and sprays to my soaking wet locks in an attempt to transform them from unruly to "scrunched." Pathetically, it always ends up looking like a half-assed birds nest of messy curls haphazardly fastened out of my face with a headband, 2 scrunchies, 37 bobby pins, and a half a can of AquaNet.***
***No, I don't really use AquaNet. I think this, along with Denture Creme and Depends, is reserved for people over the age of 65.
The only "barrier" that would be effective under these circumstances is an air-conditioned body suit. I can say with certainy that I would put this gift at the very top of my Christmas list and probably even trade most of my worldly posessions to get my hands on one. I would spend a similarly astronomical amount of money on an airconditioned blanket so that sleeping with boyfriend in the summer months would be just as pleasant as they are in winter.
I have not yet decided if I hate rain or heat more, but that's like deciding if Kate Gosselin or Octomom is a worse mother.
Although lately, with her unpredicatable "chances of scattered thunderstorms" and "95% humidity," I'd say Mother Nature is worse than them both.
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