Thursday, August 12, 2010

An ode to Iced Coffee, Tea and basically all that is Iced

Have I mentioned the freaking heat in New York?


It's like descending into hell.  A hell that is like standing behind a bus and feeling the exhaust fumes on your skin and not having the bus pull away.

But it's New York so I love it.

I also love iced coffee.  OH GOD do I love iced coffee.  Every morning the lethargic Mop and I go for a walk to our local deli/grocery/coffee place Jessie's.  We both love the air con that hits us as we walk in, and we love even more, opening the freezer door to get our pre-cooled cup full of ice.

They know me as cream and one sugar - I plunk my money on the counter and happily suck back the cool caffeine as we make our way back home.  The coolness of the coffee lasts only so long and soon I am sweating again.

The other day it was so hot in the apartment that I took a very cold shower.  When getting ready, I ended up sweating so much I had to jump back in to rinse off!  I was trying to apply mascara (which is kept in the fridge) but my eyes were so sweaty it hurt.  I had a pool of sweat in my belly button!

I learned from Male Model not to apply lotion as I had been doing.  Makes sense.  You sweat so much your skin has no chance of getting dry.  I think it was the lotion that lead to me sliding out of the cab.

Now I just have to get ready in the bedroom where I can put the AC on full blast. Or just sit there in my underwear and let it cool me.  Apparently I am now Homer Simpson. I have also taken to pushing the bed in front of the AC at night.

I worry about my Starbucks bill on my VISA when I get home.  I pop in there at least once a day for a shaken black iced tea lemonade half sweet.  I drink it fast and then place the ice down my dress.

Mop hates the heat.  He is not the same dog.  I thought it was his separation from Brooklyn that had made him listless. Alas, on a recent trip to a cooled down Toronto, Mop was back in Mop/crazy animal form.  So Brooklyn is not the ringleader after all.  Mop is just that hot.

He is so hot he won't sleep with me.  I tried to hold him in front of the AC to get cooled down but he is afraid of the whirring noise.  Then I dunked him in a fountain at Central Park.  This only made him roll around in the dirt.  I try giving him cold baths but he hates water (clearly as the fountain trick didn't work).  I even got him a bandanna that you put in the freezer which supposedly cools off their necks.  Unfortunately it is sitting in my Vancouver freezer.

So it's hot.  You can't hang outside so you must trek to the lovely cool inside of museums like the Met.  Or go shopping. Or actually sit at Starbucks all day (I got so cold in their AC I had to order a tea latte).

We couldn't survive this heat if it weren't for the iced coffee.  Oh iced coffee/tea.  I love you.

Gosh, how did women in the 19th century deal in this heat?  I can't see Miss Astor spreading her legs and fanning up her skirt.

Um.  Not that I do that either . . . .

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