You criticize people's sacred cow, that horrible time known as summer, and people make you out to be an inhuman, personality deficient, self-obsessed whore. Chill out. It's just a season, and a horribly boring, uncomfortable one at that.

I mean, summer sucks, big time. Really ...

I do live in San Diego but we have heat here too! Are you kidding? It was almost 80 degrees in Downtown. EIGHTY! I had to put the fan on! Would you believe that?

And the humidity! Holy crap! Honest to god, I was close to sweating after I crossed Harbor Drive to get to Anthony's where I had my lunch. Of course I got a seat with a view to Point Loma and all those horrible sailboats in the bay, AGAIN, after I had to sit there yesterday, thankyouverymuch!

And, yes, I too suffer from overabundance of certain body parts. I feel your pain, lady. Oh, the suffering we well endowed must go thru during our lives. We are a bona fide discriminated-against minority! Endowism runs rampant in our society, it is true, kick me in the butt and call me a dog if I'm lying!.

Women look at my bulging pants and go "yecchh!". Yes, my dick is the Schwarzenegger to my Hulk Hogan, whatever the bloody hell that is supposed to mean, a dong the size of a carintas burrito at Colima's in Chula Vista. Woe to me, bwaaaaaahahaaaaaaa!

My mother had said once, son, maybe one day you'll get a penectomy, heck, I'll do it for you if the evil repuglishitfucklicans steal your health insurance, what is a mother for after all, no?

OK. So there is a silver lining in everything. Life is good, we can exhale.

But that is a topic for a different website altogether.

Rachel, see a shrink. You certainly live in a place where they're in great abundance. Except, they leave in the summer.

You might try a plastic surgeon; but, they probably take a vacation, too.

So, go to Coney Island, Fire Island, Statin Island or Jamaica. Take along a recliner; put in the surf; and read a book.

Get a life, but don't bore us!

. . . called Texas. I was born in Texas (Gulf Coast), grew up in Texas (hill country), was an undergrad in Texas (Houston). Heat and humidity are simple facts of life in Texas. You don't even question them; they just are. Then I moved to San Diego for grad school and discovered dry skin heaven. Good hair days! Makeup that didn't melt off of my face! No A/C!--I was able to sleep without an air conditioner in August for the first time in my life. And I became spoiled. So spoiled that I decided to move to New England after graduating in order to try something new, to experience that strange concept called "seasons." I've been here in the northeast for almost ten years and am planning a move back to Texas in a few months--Austin this time--and the one thing, the ONLY thing I will miss about this area is the seasons--nice short summers and disgustingly invigorating autumns and springs. God I will miss them. I am indeed a masochist, but sometimes, inexplicably, the need for home is stronger than the need to not sweat a lot. Goodbye, autumn.

Rachel I feel your pain. North Carolina has those pain the ass four distinct seasons like those places you mentioned. The only escape from four seasons in this country is Florida and California. Everywhere else either gets too damn hot or too damn cold or worse............BOTH!!! Of course Florida is hurricane central with retirees and high cost of living. Cali is earthquake central with even higher cost of living. I guess we cannot have our weather and enjoy it too.

Ah, Iraq. To give us perspective.

South Street Seaport. Rank. Almost keeled over from the stench.

You're just living in the wrong place, Rachel. The Mountain West is high and dry which makes for pleasant summers most of the time. No furnace-like Phoenix/Tucson heat, no sticky Midwest/South/East Coast humidity. Just moderate heat, low humidity, the afternoon cloudburt, and cool evenings. Can't help you with the BBQ party problem though--that's one we share..

This is the second Salon essay I've read recently to feature a woman complaining about her huge breasts. I don't usually look to Salon to fulfill my more purient interests, but if I'm reading about huge breasts, I want pictures. Any yes, Summer kinda sucks, and it is probably no comfort to Rachel but as a man who hates summer, the breasts (and legs) of all the Rachels of the world are only thing that make it bearable.

Are we in fact a nation of whiners?

"before it's time to start complaining about winter."

Maybe that's the clue, it's easy to complain, I bet we don't get the 500 words on why Spring & Fall are so fantastic. I'm getting bored of so called humorous writing packed with negativity and semi original observations. Come on, rise to the challenge, write something positive.

Yeah, some of this article is amusing. But the overall tone, as many others have pointed out, is that of a person determined not to have any fun. Self absorbed and whiny. But hey, I'm a double-d and a bit on the porky side myself, my insurance company does not cover breast reduction, I have hot flashes, the museum where I work has had no air conditioning and I still have to do four animal programs a day, and to top it off my daughter and granddaughter live on Martha's Vineyard, where it's cool, breezy and fun, and I have to work instead of going to play with them. (They aren't millionaires...my daughter is office manager for a carpet and flooring stoor, and she got in on an affordable housing program) But I still enjoy summer. Green things...trees...forests to walk in and enjoy the stillness. Hawks nesting in the backyard. The cat lying spreadeagled in the sun, smiling his little cat smile. Fresh fruit...local corn! Peaches! Cool bugs to look at! And I'm old enough that I can put on my bathing suit and go to the beach without worrying too much about those extra ten pounds. Heck, Dave Barry advised all us old out-of-shape folks to go ahead and dance! Sure the little lithesome kids will point fingers and snicker. Let 'em. They need a source of amusement, and we need to close off that inner voice that says we aren't thin enough, or pretty enough, or small-titted enough to dare to be seen enjoying ourselves.

As Christmas in Hell has pointed out, life is short, death is long, and if you need to smoke a couple of joints to get a giggle on things, use the money from this essay to score some good weed. Dum vivamus, vivamus!