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Ah, dispatches from the 9th circuit of hell. First off, everyone with a bass booster has been driving around, the windows down, blasting, “It’s gettin hot in here (so hot) So take off all your clothes…..” Nelly I think, although I’m not certain. Apparently the neighborhood decides what kind of music I’m going to listen to and that one appears to be a favorite. My husband is threatening to find the duct tape if I don’t stop singing it sarcastically.

We’re having a heat wave here but you have to understand that this is the 9th circuit of hell, so naturally 80 degrees feels more like 140. It’s really hot already, as in mentally, spiritually, and psychologically hot, so the last thing we need is weather causing hot, cranky people. Like me.

I really rue the day I ever heard, “the personal is political.” No, no it is not! For example, when you are waiting in line and you finally get to the checker, that is NOT the time to begin haranguing the poor girl about the necessity of organic, free trade, locally grown, gluten-free produce and raw milk hand massaged out of the cow by the farmer’s virgin daughters. I don’t care! In fact, I really just want you to shut up already. You just spent more money on wine and imported cheese than that poor clerk makes in a month. You have no business lecturing anyone about their alleged lack of “global conscience.”

Speaking of which, no, no 80 degrees is not evidence of global warming. These are the dog days of summer. It’s supposed to be hot. Also, our definition of “hot” is a bit skewed compared to most of the country. Just saying.

When I am already cranky that is a really bad time to mess with my head, but messing with my head appears to be all the rage around here. So little hipster guy finally got up to the cashier bearing a flyer for the alphabet picnic. That would be a picnic for the LGBT, transgendered, genderqueer, gender questioning, non- binary, non-cisgendered, people. That’s  fine, I’m used to events like that, but what caught my attention were the words at the bottom, MEN ONLY. Wait what??!

Now listen, you are simply not allowed to mess with my head like that! If one is uncertain of ones gender, how does one know if they qualify? Men only? Also, you are not allowed to affirm every male stereotype I hold near and dear while denying the existence of gender. Men, who happen to be somewhat competitive, (said with all due love and affection of course,) have apparently decided they are now far more qualified to do womanhood than women are. Being vastly superior and since girls ruin everything, they’re having an exclusive picnic for males only.

A picnic catered by….The Personal is Political Gal who needs all that local, organic free trade produce, gluten free bread, and raw milk. Yep, you guessed it, she’ll be the one making sammiches for the menz who aren’t sure if they are menz.

Ai yi yi. I really don’t blame them. I have a girl’s brain and after all the rabbit holes I went down just trying to process these two things in the grocery store, I wouldn’t advise inviting any women to their event either.

It’s all good, I’ll just stay home and listen to Nelly, “It’s gettin hot in here (so hot) So take off all your clothes…..”