July 15: The Sunshiney Edition

In case you've been smart enough to stay inside lately, let us pop in for a little weather update.

Hmm. Yep. Second degree burns from the car seat. Balls boiling in the crock-pot of our pants like a couple of fuzzy ravioli. It's July, all right. It will never get more Florida than it is right now. (What's that? SHUT UP, man. Maybe August will leave if we ignore it.)

Lord knows that writers can't rain dance, so let's appease the sun gods the only way we know how: With an edition of Orlando's sweatiest spoken word open mike dedicated to Florida. This would be the time to break out those love letters to Casey Anthony you never sent, your recipe for orange-flavored bath salts in sonnet form. We're living in a land with more drama than George Zimmerman adopting Elian Gonzalez. If you can't make some literary hay outta that, maybe it's time to bow to the economy and open up a meth lab like the rest of the state.

Can't take the heat, get into our bitchin'. That's 9:00 pm Eastern Sloppy Time on Tuesday, July 17 at Will's Pub, fellow daughters and suns of sunshine. Be there or we'll play Jimmy Buffet covers instead.