the bastard will tell you this...

i have come to a foregone conclusion,

that even if we were running this magazine from the aleutian islands,

from january until march,

the bastard would still be totally sweaty when he gets to work.

i don't know what the hell it is with my internal barometer. it's like 38 degrees outside and my bosy thinks that it's august.

and here we are again.

looking for a dry shirt on the day of the most important meeting meeting of my career at the moment.

dammit!.

—the bastard