Wednesday, July 27, 2016


This is day two of my new job. I've become a Metra commuter. This means that when I get off the train I have to walk about fifteen minutes to my office. It's fucking killing me.

OK, it costs a lot, but when I've been with the company for three months, they start paying for my train tickets. That's not the worst of it. It's the goddam fucking relentless heat. Even worse, in the morning I walk into the sun. In the evening I walk into the sun. So much direct contact from the sun is turning me to mush. It's not natural. It's a ball of fire in the sky, and it must be avoided at all costs.

I arrive at work every day with a shirt soaked through with sweat. My face is wet. My fingers are squishing together. My balls are almost all the way to my knees, and I can feel them stuck between my thighs. I imagine it looks like the web from the Spider-Man trailers with the Twin Towers in them. Horrible. HORRIBLE.

I try my best to cover my sweat up with cologne, but that's not enough. I feel very uncomfortable for the next eight hours even if my clothes have finally dried off. My hair is a sweaty mess and can't recover from it. I spend about ten minutes before going into the office just trying to clean up, and it never works.

And then I get to do it again on my way back to the train station. I always arrive about 20 minutes before my train departs for Elmhurst, and when I slump down into my seat--picked before anyone else gets on--I see my reflection in the window. It looks like Gollum just before he became Gollum. I put more cologne on even though I know it's not going to make much of a difference. I dab my face with tissue, leaving wet crumbs of the stuff all over my face and collar. I'm turning into a beast.

GAME OF THRONES always threatens that winter is coming. I can't wait for that shit. I need to show up JUST FUCKING ONCE for work without being covered in sweat. I think when winter finally does come I won't even wear a coat. I might even walk the streets of the Windy City in the nude just to feel nice and dry when I walk into the office that morning.

When I get home I shower immediately. It's one of the greatest feelings in the world. Even better than an assisted orgasm. Even better than drinking Wild Turkey 101. Good God, it's even better than reading a kick-ass book.

Can we please ban any weather over seventy degrees? That would be a huge help for me. Either that or we need to invent a transporter. Scotty, beam me to work. I don't care if there's a fly in here with me. Sure, it's fun and games until your dick falls off and you have to keep it in your medicine cabinet. But I'd rather show up dry at work with some semblance of hygiene. Thank you.

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