The Heat Is On

It is truly hot in good old DC and it's not even summer yet. According to the Washington Post, we're supposed to cross a record high today. While I don't need any reason at all to head to my neighborhood bar for a beer, there is even more reason right now. I am one of those unfortunate DC residents who lives in an old brick building that is hot as hell and did not come with AC. I do have a window unit, but does it really cool down the entire place? Not so much. Especially the bathroom which makes it very difficult for a girl to get ready for a night out when she can't stop sweating. So, when I can actually make it out of the door looking halfway decent, why not use up someone else's AC? I am also one of those people without cable. I have been coping with fuzzy TV for the past two years. Yes, it does suck when I want to see things like Project Runway, What Not To Wear, Top Chef, and of course NBA games, but other than that, who cares? So, during playoff season you know where to find me: a bar with big screen TVs. And right now is crucial. While I could check out the NBA Finals on my fuzzy screen, I refuse. As I've mentioned before, big, gorgeous, sweaty men need to be viewed in all of their glory.
But of course, hanging out at the sports bar does come with a few problems. I am really sick of the tired question, "So, you're into sports?" Guys don't ask other guys this question. Yeah, you couldn't pay me to sit through a football game but I love basketball and not just for the eye candy. I do love the game. Then there's this problem: the guy who buys you a drink, engages in conversation, hands you his card, asks you out, and finally places his left hand - clearly bearing a ring - on the bar. It has happened many times before so I should be used to it, but this time I found it extra funny. After I asked a couple of questions about his wife, he said to me: "Why do you keep asking about the W." The what? Yes, he refers to his wife as the 'W'. Sweet.

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