Is It Hot Enough For Ya?

 

It’s hot as hell! 

Hot enough to fry an egg! 

But it’s a dry heat. 

It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. 

It’s hotter than Georgia asphalt.

It’s hotter than July. 

It’s Africa hot. 

It’s hotter than a fox in a firestorm.

If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.

It's so hot; I'm eating hot peppers to stay cool.

It’s dry as a bone. Dry as dust. I’m sweating dust. Or steam.

Hotter than a two dollar pistol on the 4th of July. 

It's hot as a pot of rice.

Hotter than a nanny goat in a pepper patch.

Hotter than a nun's bug.

Hotter than the hinges of hell.

Hotter than a half-made fox in a forest fire.
Hotter than a fresh-frigged sheep in a pepper patch. 

Hotter than a two-dollar whore.
Hotter than a fat man’s ass crack in July. 

Hotter than two rats screwing in a wool sock in the desert.

Hotter than a three pecked goat in a field full of nannies.
Hotter than a six peckered alley cat, a two dollar pistol.
Hot as a firecracker on the 4th of July.
Hotter than a depot stove.
Hot like a toad on a hot road.

But really, it’s too hot to write anything original. Or long.

But really, the worst of the heat is over.

I’m a day late and a dollar short. 

I’m a few pennies short of a buck.

I’m trying to make a dollar out of fifteen cents. 

You can bet your bottom dollar that I’m not going to end this soon.

Put your money on the line and put your money where your mouth is.
Pay your money and take your choice.
A fool and his money are soon parted.
Money doesn't grow on trees, right?
Do you think I'm made of money?
Money can't buy you love, and money can't buy happiness.

(Good thing this writing thing isn’t my day job…!)