It's not a pretty sight...

It's not a pretty sight. I'm sitting in my birthday suit. Well almost. I'm wearing those Speedos. The one with the faded Union Jack flag. Mick Jagger probably wore these decades before I did. How they ended up in a thrift store in Hollyweird is anyone's guess. Another L.A. Heat Wave. Another Labor Day long weekend. Another day to dodge the pandemic bullet.

Dodging the bullet in L.A. What else is new? Slumlords. Grand Jury Subpoenas. I've dodged them all. In this heat, I'm doing what I gotta do with my new best friend. We're snuggling up real close.

Wish I could say my new best friend is that lady I met in Tango class in South Pasadena. My new best friend coughs and hacks like a senior citizen at 5am. My new best friend is that R2-D2 sized AC floor unit I bought off Craigs List for sixty bucks and change way back when. Back when Hitler was painting houses. It's still pumping out those BTUs. Still cool. Still Miles Davis cool. So far, so good. 

My AC unit and I are getting closer each time the temperature rises. I'm hydrating as well. I'm surviving and actually thriving, primarily on light catering. Bud Light. After a cold brewski or two, I start to forget all about the heat. I do have a Plan B. 

It's down the street next to the 24/7 laundromat. It's that 'Circus' liquor store and my buddy, Jake, a disbarred entertainment lawyer works there most nights. If my AC gives up the ghost during this heatwave, Plan B will go into effect.

My Plan B could stand for Brewski. Jake will pretend I'm a customer and let me walk through the icy cold beer locker. Domestic. Imports. Heineken. Fat Tires. Brewski heaven. We did this caper last summer and the owner, that country club guy, never knew the difference. 

Nothing planned for Labor Day. Not really. Keeping cool. Hand washing my cleanest pair of dirty jeans. Maybe hand-washing my Speedos.  Maybe buy some new masks. 

But, enough about me...