HOW hot was it yesterday? So hot the reporter doffed his suit jacket before fronting his poolside live shot! So hot the photog broke out his still camera just to stave of delirium. So hot our every newscast began and ended with dire warnings of face-melting across the
Problem is, after you do this silly gig for enough years, all that interloping begins to feel normal. I know that when I left news for the placid world of promotions, I nearly passed out from jealousy when my hurricane chasing colleagues struck out for the coast with nothing but hubris Slim-Jims. 'That should be ME out there!, I screamed from my air-conditioned office. A few months later it was, as I shirked the duties of a house-cat hack and took my talents to the front lines. Drought, pestilence, County Commissioner workshops! For the past 14 years, I've braved them all, just so some overly perfumed executive could experience flea and tick season without ever getting itchy. That reminds me, anybody know a cure for heat-induced psychosis? Something came over me the other day while licking humidity off the live truck and now all I want to do is run naked through the inner city. Pretty soon, I won't even be able to form whole sentences. How will I complain then?
Oh, I'll find a way.