The Seven AM Cultural Revolution of dissipated exhaustion after the 3 am violent overthrow of the consciousness

I am dying here. Eighty thousand degrees and enough humidity to chafe a camel. How much is the Ocean View worth again?

Update: worth every penny. On the mainland, they're starch-steam pressing the trees. Armpit-Sweatman, the Funk Fairy, and Heatstinkboy bestow their aesthetic and aromatic presents on the multitudes. And it's Shavuos. I get to stay up *all* night. I can mine Tijuana Gold from my eyeballs now.

Yes. I am bitching, moaning, and complaining. It's practise. Bear with me.