In fact, it's so hot I saw a funeral procession stop at a snow cone stand.
It's so hot, Michael Phelps tested positive for Snapple.
It's so hot, I can roast marshmallows in my belly button.
It's so hot, I can use my seat belt for a branding iron.
And if that's not hot enough for ya...
Well, it's hotter than a witch's tit in a brass bra.
It's hotter than menopause in July.
It's hotter than the pavement in Hell.
It's hotter than a pair of sweat pants at a barbecue.
Of course, this post would not be complete without me specifically conveying how hot I actually am.
I'm sweating like a whore in church.
I'm sweating like your mama at a paternity test.
I'm sweating like a big, fat, one-legged hooker working both sides of the street.
I'm sweating like a pig in a sausage factory.
I'm sweating like a $2 hooker on nickel night.
What about you? What's the weather like in your neck of the woods???
