So, it is hot today, in case you haven't heard, and I am uncharacteristically concerned about many people of this fine city:
1. Wig Man. Wig Man is always bumping around the Golden Triangle area, you know who I'm talking about ( smoking, usually sporting a black one-piece mechanics jumper, always sporting a light-brunette woman's wig, often leaning against corner trashcans, occasionally almost getting hit by cars when he crosses the street on a red.) Damn, Wig Man's head must be boiling, what with wearing a wig perched on top of his head like that.
2. The Guy in My Office who Drinks 8 Cups of Coffee Before Noon. Here in the penthouse, it is hot. Sure, the AC is on, but still. Warmer up here than anywhere else in the building. So maybe, guy, you should consider switching to OJ or soda or a nice cool water, because the last time I saw you refilling at the Flavia robot, you were sweating.
...
Okay, remember how I just said "I am uncharacteristically concerned about many people of this fine city?" I meant two. I am uncharacteristically concerned about two people people in this fine city
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In Atlanta, I began to realize I had eaten a little too much unhealthy stuff when, midway through a porkchop with a fried/sugarcoated apple ring on top of it, I started to sweat. Marge was right: sweating while eating = bad news.
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