The H Is O.

Some quick endorsements: >> Only one apartment left to fill. If you have anyone in mind, forward the link. It's a great pad. >> Aubs is selling 2 tickets to a reggae concert at the BOA pavilion on August 19th. Email me if you're interested. I'm sure as hell not, ya lazy bloodclot. The closest I get to reggae is one particular ska song which is on my all time top 10 favorites list - Ghost Town by the Specials. And the theme song for Cops which I watch so frequently I can also probably be considered a little special.

It's only fitting that I write something about the intense heat today, as it's forecast to go up to a near record-breaking 100+ degrees on this fine Wednesday. The heat is on, little babies. And Boston is like an egg that's been cracked on a griddle. Which has then been placed on the surface of the sun. I assume by a rather bored division of NASA, but I'm not really sure how this analogy ends. Let's just end it.

The heat is taxing. Draining. I ran up and down the floors of my building 7 times yesterday, showing potential tenants the open apartments and roofdeck. When I crawled into bed to watch Saxondale last night, I quickly fell into the deepest sleep I've had in a long time. And it was murder getting up this morning. I still feel like I ran the Boston Marathon yesterday, and maybe even crapped down my leg like that woman from a few years back. Nah, I had white pants on and would have noticed.

Stay cool, people. Drink lots of fluids and lay off dairy. Huddle under AC units, even if they give you dry eyes or sore throats and remember the immortal words of Walter Winchell - "It's a sure sign of summer if the chair gets up when you do."