It's August??

The other day when I looked at the calendar I nearly did a spit take like they do in cartoons and poorly written sitcoms that rely on cheap sight gags and Charlie Sheen.  It seems like only last week it was late June (the last time I posted on my blog), and now we’ve turned over our Adorable Baby Animals calendars to August.  Staring at the calendar I couldn’t help wondering where July went; that, and who thought it was a good idea to include warthogs.  I know all baby animals are supposed to be cute, but they’re basically just miniature versions of the adults, and if the adult looks like something Satan shit out after an all night beer-and-burrito bender, a smaller version of it won’t look any better.  Do I really have to look at Satan’s excrement all month?  Maybe I could rip out April’s baby bunnies and tape over it.  But I digress.         

If the months of the year were broken down into personalities, July would be the hard-partying twenty-something; having the time of his life but always waking up in a puddle of puke unable to remember anything.  Whether you’re old, young, single, married, gay, straight, like cheese, don’t like cheese, law-abiding citizen or terrorist, July is incredibly intense.  It’s a whirlwind of activity born from the intense pressure to get out and enjoy summer in its prime; after all, the only people with an excuse to stay inside on a bright sunny Saturday are invalids and gamers living in their parent’s basement, since exposure to sunlight may cause them to burst into flames.

Unfortunately, July tends to be pretty damn hot, which is not a great motivator for leaving an air-conditioned house.  Unless you’re poor and can’t afford anything better than a pathetic little fan, in which case you’re out every day enjoying walks in the park, or cracking open a fire hydrant.  Have you ever seen photos of inner city kids frolicking around a gushing hydrant?  The look of pure joy on their faces more than makes up for the fact that the next person who overcooks their microwave burrito could end up burning down the entire neighborhood, marking the second time burritos have been responsible for some horrible occurrence (warthogs, remember?  Go ahead and re-read that part, this blog isn’t going anywhere).  Being poor may suck for 11 months out of the year, but summer is truly their time to shine.

But now it’s August and the pressure’s off, right?  Wrong!  If anything the pressure is even more intense.  August is the middle age of summer, desperately scrambling to enjoy every last minute of youthful fun before succumbing to the inevitable chill of Fall.  You have to go out and prove you’re not old and boring.       

So how do you force yourself to go out if you aren’t lucky enough to be poor?  How do you force yourself to get out and have fun when you hate doing things that make you sweat?  The same way you’ve been forcing yourself to do things you don’t want to do since kindergarten: peer pressure.  Find a few friends and schedule a hike or a game of pickup basketball.  Sure it takes time and effort, but at least no one will accuse you of wasting your summer.  Don’t worry, it won’t be long before the temperature drops enough that it’s okay to stay indoors drinking beer and watching sports on TV again.  So get going!