If you live in a place like New York City where temperatures are over 90 degrees and humidity is set on “fuck...,” that means you probably stepped outside this morning and immejiately felt as if your body had been shrunken down and inserted atop the tongue of a person with deathly hot stank breath.
The week’s been exhausting, so basically, look at this corgi. I’m looking at it. And as I watch it ease down a slide in graceful slow motion and splash into a pool of heaven, I deeply desire a similar feeling. Can I have that?