“I feel like a I’m in a panini press,” she said as she slumped into the ironwork chair at the local brewery.
“How so?” her friend asked and twirled his finger to catch the waitresses attention.
“The sun above, baking. The asphalt below burning. I’m the sandwich bread and my insides are turning gooey, but not in a good way.”
He laughed. “What you need is a beer. Sandra, we’ll take a round of the IPA and bring out some of the double fudge ice cream,” he ordered.
“You think that’ll help?” she asked as the waitress walked away.
“Babe, beer and ice cream always help.”
So, it’s one of those California bake everything in sight days. 102F on the thermometer. YUCK is all I can say. I was writing a bit of poetry and the idea of being in a panini press made me laugh. Except for the fact that my shoulders are burnt. Bleh.