Summer done dirty is a boozy bender at a bar with about as much luster and authenticity as cubic zirconium. Fat, over-processed versions of formerly precious co-eds take high-angled pictures that will one day make it to Facebook as testament to how young and fun they can still be and still are. Multi-layered tinks and clanks of beer bottles in bins and shot glasses in the air, and these 30-year-old bottle blondes squeal when they hear 2 Live Crew or Bon Jovi come on over the sticky dance floor. A reminder of yesteryear.
Me? I’ll take my summer over easy, like two fried egg yolks running over buttered wheat toast and into well-done hash browns with grilled onions and green peppers. Hot coffee with cream and a glass of OJ with the humidity forming sweat beads on the side. A good book as company for company’s sake. A slot of time reserved later in the day for something like gardening out front, or crate digging at the record shop downtown where whiffs of incense linger longer than that old salt who hangs out by the Surf section.
Leave that extra shit for those bottle blondes who smile in photos from Club CZ, but who can barely mask their misery. Drink up, bitches, and enjoy your Bon Jovi or whatever. I’m taking my summer over easy. And Ro Spit’s mash-up of Mayer Hawthorne is coming with me, cool as a cucumber.