I attended a Memorial Day whatchamaever today, at what Mike likes to call the “faux-shun.” Shut up. I didn’t pick it and it was a going away party for Porno Claus. Hell, I’ll even admit I had a good time; but what is it in Canton that make women’s breasts disproportionally, abnormally large and gravity defying? Fake breasts are lame (when I finally realize they are all fake. For the first five minutes or so, I was pleasantly duped.)

I was quite surprised when I returned to my apartment and found it baking in 95 degrees of nastiness. As good a time as any to test drive the brazillion LB, 20+ year old air conditioner I scored off a friend for free last summer in the middle of a heat wave, when my last free air conditioner died on me.

*ZAP* *CLICK* *ZAP* *CLICK*

Damn thing kept shorting out on me. I checked the power chord. My, my. I’ve never seen an adapter melted right into the wall socket before. Apparently, 20+ year old 12,000 BTU air conditioners and 100 year old wiring don’t mix. Who knew? Pity, the vintage wood-veneer packaging was lovely. Looked just like the one in Jim Rockford’s trailer. A classic.

Eh, good thing I was home when it happened, I guess. Roasted fat hairy cat can’t smell good. Looks like I’ll be spending a little cabbage tomorrow morning at the most easy-going, breezily employed Best Buy in America, Get In On It! I hope I can bribe one of the employees into doing their job and carry two smaller, reasonably watted units to the cab stand next to the front door for me.

New, 21st Century window units! I'm such a technology geek. I hope they have earbuds, wifi and embedded webcams.