I actually laughed out loud reading it.

I too, hate summer. Well, its not summer, rather, but hot weather. You want to talk about humidity; this morning (7:30 a.m.), while driving to work, and before the air conditioner kicked in, the sweat was pouring down my face and into my eyes. I had to pull over because my eye glasses were steaming up and I couldn't see well enough (what with the burning sweat in my eyes) to find a tissue to wipe them off.

I know about New York, though. My summer vacations were spent in that hell hole, visiting family in the PROJECTS, on the bazillionth floor, without an air conditioner. However, living in the South in the summer has made me look fondly on those times. Because New York is a paradise compared to the Deep South in the summer.

The crappy thing about the South is that not only is it hot, but the bugs are hopped on crack (and I suspect OFF spray and those citronella candles just make them crackier.) I scratch, scratch, and scratch constantly.

Sure, we have air conditioning, but it blew out last month for two weeks and I swear to god, I prayed for death. The brick house I live in is great if you have an air conditioner; it's just hell on earth if you don't have one.

And for everyone who is hating on the writer for hating summer; fuck you all. I mean it. You go be your perky happy selves and run naked through the goddamned sprinklers or visit theme parks, or go hiking, drinking cooled gaspacho next to the pool, or whatever the heck ya'll do in the summer and I will sit inside my dark house and pray the air conditioner doesn't go out again. And no, I don't want any advice about what I should do to not be miserable. I like being miserable, thank you very much. The only thing I have in common with most of the bible thumping, homophobic, racist fucks who live in this god forsaken hellhole is our mutual hatred of the humid soul killing weather.

Some people have called this article "ironic".

Def:

i·ro·ny1 /ˈaɪrəni, ˈaɪər-/ Pronunciation[ahy-ruh-nee, ahy-er-] Pronunciation Key - –noun, plural -nies.

1. the use of words to convey a meaning that is the opposite of its literal meaning: the irony of her reply, “How nice!” when I said I had to work all weekend.

Yeah, I'm calling it just whining.

To Rachel Shukert: Thank you for this article - it was hilarious and enjoyable.

To all who have written in to complain about the article and fling accusations at the author: The title is "Why I Hate Summer". What, exactly, were you expecting when you clicked on the link to read it?

I've been where you are, in a sweltering city, no air conditioning. You need to quit whining and complaining about how you can't get out and GET OUT. New York City is NOT the center of the universe. Wanna know how to escape, how to turn the tables? Leave it all behind. All of it. Your friends and their achievements (whatever they are), your parents and their definitions of success, which they've been drumming into you from the age of two, and everyone's expectations about what you're supposed to do in the summertime. You want to win? You can only win by refusing to play the game.

Go somewhere high-altitude, where the air is clear and dry in summer, the property values are reasonable, and people do things outdoors because they love them, not because it's the Thing To Do. Don't go to San Francisco, because you'll get trapped in the same game, just the West Coast version. Go somewhere where you can have your own yard and inhale the smell of fresh-cut grass and June roses. Someplace where you can ride to work on bike trails without worrying about getting clipped by buses and evil taxi drivers and psycho BMW-driving investment bankers. Teach. Work in a coffee shop. Write. Find a nice guy who likes to fish on weekends and doesn't mind going with you to see movies with subtitles. Spend your summers out on your shady deck or balcony reading novels from the good secondhand bookstore in town, or the college bookstore, or ordered online. Watch afternoon thunderstorms come up over the mountains and drop precious rain on parched desert towns and alpine forests. Sit out there at night with your boyfriend or your friends and a pitcher of margaritas and watch the Milky Way reveal itself in the clear night sky while fireflies and luna moths dance in the flowers in your garden and tiny green lizards scuttle up your walls in search of bugs. Someday, your stressed-out New York friends will come and visit you, and they will envy you.

Or at least, that's how I spend my summers. At some point, none of what you're worried about is going to matter. The New York way of life isn't stable. It can't go on forever. And it's a huge migraine. In the end, you will be successful and happy if you can find your own way to love the summer, not the way that everyone else--parents, friends, mainstream media, Hamptons vacation realtors, travel agencies-- thinks you should love the summer.

Too bad you only know bad bbq.

I've been to NYC in the summer, ewwwww! The smell of pee is horrible, the twice a day showers, um sucks! What's up with a modern city with trash dumsters on the sidewalks? Gross!

See I hate summer in SF for different reasons, it was practically raining this morning and cold, probably in the 50's! So if I want a tan I have to pay for it. But then you go 30 miles inland and you go oh shit, this sucks, it's so damn hot! So you laugh as you cross the bridge and see the fog and point and laugh at all those poor suckers in 100 degree heat.

At least here I can just drive for a while, then come back to my nice foggy, cool city.