Here we are at the cusp of August and September, but what do I see when I look out my West L.A. window? Overcast skies.
The weather broadcasters smile at us and call this weather “mild”. I do not want “mild”, dammit! I want numbingly, mind-blowingly, catharthis-inducingly, non-long-sleeve, non-sweater-wearing hot! It’s supposed to be summer, and late August at that. I’m used to “mild” conditions in late May and early June, but after that it’s supposed to warm up. As it happened, we had about two weeks of real beach weather here, near the beach. It is an irony of Los Angeles weather that you can get all the “beach” weather you want 50 miles inland. It’s hot out there. But here, three miles away from the beach, that’s not the case.
Fucking “mild”. They can take “mild” and stuff it up their goat felching asses.