98 Degrees: More than a Cheesy 70's Chick Trio

I had to venture out for bottled water today in 98º heat.
My hair melted and fused to my head like a Ken doll.
I got a tan walking from the parking lot to the store.
It was so hot, I started hallucinating Sorrento's
ass.
Once inside the store, the heat turned me into a tar baby, attracting:
-people running their carts into mine
-people running into me
-children, not getting out of my way
-people, expecting me to move out of their way

Near the lunch meat aisle, there was one of those little 5'0" mini bulldykes, you know, with the little chopped off haircut and the neat and tidy khaki shorts with the sharp crease, the leather belt and the tucked in, ironed T-shirt and the tiny little combat boots?
She looked kind of like that icky doll boy Timmy on "Passions," but she was swaggering around like Sgt. Carter on "Gomer Pyle, USMC."
Anyway, I purposely walked by her cart really close, ahem-ed and let her watch me effortlessly heft a 24-pack of 16 ounce water bottles into my cart. Ha.
Heat makes me slightly aggressive, I think.
Poor Timmy, I hope I didn't scare her little butch midget ass.