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I tried cooking an egg on the sidewalk the other day. It was going well until the neighbors thought I was starting an avant-garde art project titled "Omelette à la Sidewalk." Now, I'm considering hosting a gallery opening.
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I recently discovered the true purpose of my ceiling fan – it's not for cooling the room; it's for playing an epic game of "Will I survive if I stand directly underneath it?" Spoiler alert: I didn't.
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I love how, when it's hot, everyone becomes an expert meteorologist. We're all out there saying things like, "It's not the heat; it's the humidity," as if we just cracked the code to weather patterns.
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In this heat, I've started storing chocolate in the fridge. Not because I want it cold, but because I want to experience the satisfaction of breaking off a piece that actually snaps instead of bending like a yoga instructor.
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Why is it that during a heatwave, our ice cream melts faster than our motivation at the gym? I swear, I've never seen anyone power walk to the freezer with such determination.
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Summer is the only season where you find yourself debating whether it's worth sweating through your clothes to save a few seconds by not ironing them. Spoiler alert: I've embraced the rumpled look; it's the latest fashion trend – trust me.
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You know it's summer when your car's steering wheel feels like it just came out of the oven. I'm pretty sure I saw a warning label on it saying, "Caution: May cause spontaneous hand baking.
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The weather's so hot these days that my neighbors have started using their swimming pool as a giant, expensive hot tub. I went over to join them, and they handed me a snorkel and told me to look for the lost remote.
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You know it's a scorching day when you're jealous of your dog because they get to walk barefoot on the burning pavement, and you're stuck wearing flip-flops like a responsible adult.
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