I hate summer.

That's right. Every gay man that has been killing himself at the gym and eating celery just to fit into the perfect swimsuit since April and every girl dying to show off their lower back tattoo of a Chinese symbol that she thinks means 'love' but really means 'damaged goods,' just gasped and hates me now. But it's true.

I mean, I like getting drunk by pools and wearing short shorts as much as anybody, but there is no law saying I have to be by a pool to be drunk. I get drunk lots of places, including but not whatsoever limited to: bars, patios, children's birthday parties, home alone while wrapped in a leopard Snuggie.

Come to think of it, the pool drunk might be my least favorite...

1) I'm sucking in my stomach / flexing the ENTIRE time because gay-body-issue judgement is unrivaled in any society even worse than Sorority girl judgement.

2) I don't think I could ever drown drinking wine directly out of the bottle on my couch, and

3) Sun damage. I don't wanna look like a old bag lady when I'm 35 because I insist on buying generic SPF that is probably just milk with a little bit of lotion.

Also, I like to cook and all of my favorite foods are savory warm dishes that are best served in the Fall and Winter months. Have you ever tried eating boeuf bourguignon in Texas in June?!

I did.

What I experienced fell somewhere between a heat stroke and a hot flash. As my mouth enjoyed the savory flavors of mushroom, beef, red wine, and onions, the rest of my body was just waiting to burst into flames.

Simply: no one ever got pit stains from a little shivering.

I work in a semi-professional environment. Shocking! I know, right? I hate walking into my office from the 100 degree weather in slacks and a long-sleeved button down dress shirt whilst the females of my office wear strappy sandals, racerback tank tops, and skirts so short I don't know if they are going to work or streamlining their afternoon gynecologist appointment. It's not fair or appropriate and is a good justification on why women make less.

OK. That was rude. The wardrobe thing is absolutely coming from a place of jealousy. Because if I could find a job outside of any sort of sex trade occupation that considered Daisy Duke shorts and halter tops appropriate work attire, believe you me, I would be doing it.

Finally, my sloth-like ways are better justified when it is cold and ugly outside. When it is a beautiful day, people wanna do things like be outside and run. They are also less inclined to watch all three of the Lord Of The Rings movies in a row while eating pizza and photo-shopping Paula Deen Riding Things on my laptop.

This holiday weekend was no exception. I almost suffered from no less than eleventy thousand heat strokes. So, after a Saturday pool day where I stood in the shade all afternoon and a Sunday of regulating my body temperature with Miller Lite while getting my patio drink on, I spent the actual 4th of July watching the ENTIRE 4th season of Desperate Housewives.

Yes, I own the DVDs.

No, I am neither proud or regretful of that statement.  Whatsoever.