Summertime, Psych, and Swimsuits

I love summer. Because there are cut-offs, popsicles, gardens, sprinklers, warm nights, nice smells, barbecues, beautiful evenings, Orange Crush, ice cold Coca Colas, camping, stars, sunshine, and reruns on TV (I love reruns. Especially of old Psych episodes. I LOVE OLD PSYCH EPISODES. Especially the first season).

 Plus summer TV shows! Like Suits, which is fabulous (if you don’t watch it you are probably in the majority, but you should watch it because it is cute and funny and hilarious, even if it is completely implausible) (it’s television. Okay? It is going to be implausible) (and sometimes cheesy, but who cares? I love cheesy television. I’m unashamed)(and it’s about lawyers! People. They argue for a living. It’s great) (yes I know that it is a very technical job and not as glamorous as they make it look on TV. It’s still fun to watch). 

 Plus also my birthday! I love having my birthday in summer, because guess what? I never had to go to school. And because of where my birthday falls, I always had my half birthday off, too. (This must have frustrated my teachers. “Okay, her birthday is in summer so we’ll just celebrate her half birthday—NOOO! WINTER BREAK!”) (I’m kidding. My teachers probably did not care very much.) (BUT I DID). (Sometimes). (I still like having a summer birthday, though). 

And yes, it does get ridiculously hot and you’re constantly in a state of gross sweatiness—but who cares? So is everybody else! For the perpetual sweater (one who sweats a lot) (not the article of clothing), it’s like a dream come true, because now everybody is in the same situation as you are: gross and socially awkward. Hooray for the social awkwardness! 

One of the only things I do not like about summer is swimsuits. I like to swim. I just don’t like the clothing for it. Who invented this? WHO? My favorite is reading fashion magazines that try and make it sound like “anybody can wear a bikini” (no just no) or give guides to the most “flattering bikini.” It is a bikini. There’s just not enough fabric to really create any kind of illusions about the person’s body type (I say person, and I should say woman, but I didn’t want to exclude all the men out there who like to wear bikinis)(AAAAHHH. Mental images, mental images!) 

All right. I have to run screaming down the street now (clutching my head) (screaming “NO PLEASE NO”). Good-bye.