For the second time in ten days, we’ve got a hurricane blowing through town. In Phoenix. In the middle of the desert. What the fuck? Not that I’m complaining, mind you. It’s September, and while the rest of the country has moved on from summer, our daily temperatures are still in the “ball-searing” range, so an overcast day in the low 90’s is a welcome change. We walk around outside, remark on the weather to friends and coworkers, and then we take advantage of the lull to apply another layer of ablative material to our underwear, because by the time the week is over we’ll be back to burning our genitalia on car seats again. Continue reading