Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column lathering up with the Land O’ Lakes.It’s been so hot (insert shout of Buddy Hackett audience: How hot is it?) the past two days, we can’t stand it, and we figure this is probably because our lily-white skin hasn’t seen the sun since this time last year. We figure the only way around this is to tan ourselves as quickly as possible. We figure there’s more UV rays outside than we’d get in a tanning bed, so that’s out. We would have used the spread-on, lotion-style tanning stuff, but when we went to put it on, it smelled strangely like cake frosting – which led us to call grandma real quick and ask her if the cake we sent her for her birthday last week tasted funny. Let’s just say we’re out of tanning lotion for the moment.Fortunately, though, we’ve got all this margarine, so not only are we getting tan but we get to walk around town listening to the people we pass asking their pedestrian company, “Do you smell a movie theater? I’ve got this sudden craving for popcorn.”While this heat is forcing us into the aforementioned drastic actions, as well as royally dehydrating us and making us sick to our stomachs, there is an upside: 70s flashbacks.No, it’s not that the heat is sweating out strange chemicals integrated into our system in that decade. It’s reminding us of the (dangerous) cars we were riding in at the moment. Picture if you will a 1970s station wagon with fake wood grain on the side and vinyl seats and silver seat belt buckles large enough to pass as rodeo trophies. We have a few traumatic memories of sitting down in the back of that puppy only to receive second-degree burns to the backs of our legs. If we were really lucky, this would cause us to drop our ice cream cone (which Ma and Pa Summit Up likely bought to shut us up from complaining about the heat) right on the said hades-hot seat, so that we could cry for both our burns and our lost treat. Ahhh, good times.But, we digress. We were talking about all the fun we have in this heat. Did we mention the grit-mouth. While not a well known medical condition, we’re sure our troops over in the Middle East will agree that this is no fun. Those of you out playing disc golf on the Frisco peninsula know what we’re talking about: After a few hellish days of dry heat, all it takes is a slight gust to fill your mouth with sand. It’s as fun as toothpaste without the mint flavor, or the froth, which is to say, not fun at all.If you have any secrets for beating the heat you’d like to share, let us know at firstname.lastname@example.org, fax at (970) 668-0755 or just record the sound of your mouth melting on the voicemail at (970) 668-3998, ext. 237.***Tony Gazzana says “Heidi-ho! to all of us in Summit Up Land.”I miss you! I just moved to Phoenix, Ariz., for a job and to say the least, Summit County rules, or Phoenix sucks, one of the two. I’m reading the Summit Daily and I’m missing bitching about it still snowing in April and June.”Just to let you know, it’s 110 degrees right now and its only 1 p.m. I knew it would be hot, but this is crazy. So for anyone who is through with winter, I’ll gladly switch places.”I never really appreciated where I was until I left. Big mistake. Live and learn. “Anywho, I just wanted to say thanks for being online, it helps a little with the homesickness. Thanks!”Hey, no prob, Tony! You’ll always be one of us, so anytime you can’t take the heat, stay out of the bedroom! No, wait! That’s the lyrics to a song we have stuck in our head. Anytime you can’t stand the heat, bag that job and head back to the Summit, where the only requirement for a job is a strong pulse and the ability to fog a mirror. ***Yes, it is Wednesday. We’re out frying an egg (and bacon) on the sidewalk …
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