Al Gore is right.

I know that a hot day in July isn't truly evidence of global warming, but still.

It's fucking inescapable.

The other day at work, I walked outside and it was just as hot outside as it usually is when I first get in my car in the evening. That's disgusting.

I hear pretty much the entire West coast is like this right now, except apparently Southern California, which is getting more reasonable temps in the 70s and 80s. I swear to christ it's in the 100s all night here. Okay, not really, but it stays unbelievably hot. We thought about going to Santa Cruz to cool off, but it was in the 90s there, too. Monterey sounded reasonably pleasant, but it's about a two-hour drive, and by the time we could've left, we would've been in the car for the better chunk of the afternoon, which... ugh.

Heat makes me totally lethargic. I had plans to make curry paste and cook all kinds of crap this weekend and it hasn't happened. I walk in the kitchen and think about wiping off the cutting board or rinsing out the blender jar and just go sit back down. The heat also makes me feel like a fat slug. These things combined made me a raging bitch for half of yesterday.

Wow, it was so ho(t) I forgot I was writing a blog entry. We are going to Santa Cruz, where is is in the 80s and 90s and not 103 like it is here right fucking now.