The Hissing of Summer Supplements
I actually read this paper sometimes (and not just my own column, neither), but I slip on these purple rubber gloves I pinched from the hospital last time I was all up in there getting stabbed with needles, which incidentally, I believe is not on our list of Sizzlin' summer funtime Sizzle-tivities. We should have a list of Not-so-Sizzlin' Stuff to Not Do in the Sizzlin' Summer--or hey, anytime--and I believe getting stabbed with needles in the hospital (and that's as specific as I'm gonna get because it still smarts a little) is way up in there on my list of Sizzlin' nonrecommends.
Salad tongs. I was gonna say I also use salad tongs or sometimes chopsticks to read the paper if I can't find my rubber gloves. People are always taking them, you know? The gloves. It's like, I guess I can't bitch about it because I swiped 'em myself, but there's something about those cheap rubber gloves that brings out the thief in everybody.
Anyway, all that crap about the inky goodness of the newsprint getting all up on you certainly does not apply if you are sitting on your Sizzlin' behind looking at the paper on a computer or using night-vision binoculars to look through the window at your neighbor who is looking at the paper on their computer or something, in which case this next part also does not apply, as in I hope you didn't strain yourself lifting this giant-sized newspaper out of one of those mousetraplike, spring-loaded metal street dispenser-boxes or fooling with that nasty, filmy, plastic wrapper the whole freakin' bundle of papers gets left in sometimes, OK?
Alright, Sizzlin' Summer, man, and look, it's not Sizzling Summer, right? It's lin'. The team of Sizzlin' Scientists who designed the name for this annual supplement of summer activities that are so goldurn Hot and Tasty they veritably Sizzle, man, they got that whole "n-apostrophe" thing going all up on there to make you feel more casual and, you know, summery and shit.
I enjoy the "Sizzlin' Summer" edition because it doesn't fuck up my flow, i.e., pre-empt my Sizzlin' column and, most importantly, that Sizzlin' paycheck, yeah, man. That's a good Sizzlin' activity; Getting Paid. I recommend it with as many asterisks or starbursters or whatever we're using in the Sizzlin' calendar of Sizzlin' events to recommend our Sizzlin' recommendations of Sizzlin'. Go out and Get Paid this Sizzlin' Summer, OK?
Also, I recommend you should sweat. Sweating is very beneficial for your holistic wholeness and shit, so make sure you do some Sizzlin' sweatin' this Sizzlin' summer. You don't have to go to one of those fancy-pants crunchy-tofu Birkenstock-yoga places and get all locked in a heated oven-temp room doing the Squatting Dog Salutes the Sun Position with a whole bunch of other sweaty people who are, like, extremely exerting themselves and, and, you know, stinkin' it all up in there, if you know what I mean, all sweaty-style, to get you some perspirational benefits. Much like the Sizzlin' Summer edition of City Paper, sweating is free. Don't cost nothing, and in the summertime, the sweatin' is easy. Good times. Sizzlin' Good Times, right? Sizzlin' Sweaty Good Times. Yeah!
Also, another good Sizzlin' summer activity is to get in your car and see if you can get your shirt to stick to your back when you're all down in there, in your car, that possibly doesn't have air conditioning because every time you go to the dealer to find out why the air conditioning isn't conditioning or whatever they tell you they're gonna put some dye in the conditionizationer and then you should drive it around and then come back and they'll shine their little Crime Scene Investigation lamp on the engine to see where the juice is leaking out, except, come on, I got better fucking things to do, man, I never go back to have them check because that's too fucking complicated. Jeez, can't you just put it all up in there and figure it out for me? I mean, gotta drive the goddamn car around in the blazing sun with the air conditioning blowing hot air in my face and my shirt is sticking to my back, and then when I sit forward and then back again it's all clammy? Come on, fix the fucking air conditioning, alright? Jesus Christ I can't wait until Sizzlin' Fall.
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