A bird dropped caca on my elbow so I am graciously waiving the Golden Rule for today only and permitting crabbiness to reign worldwide. I also hereby declare mixed nuts to be overrated, but back to the task at hand. The weather in Atlanta is wet and steamy and not unlike walking through soup. I assure you, warm broth is the gospel truth. However, those who compare it to stew are filthy liars. Weather should be light and breezy like the music of James Taylor sung with an ice cube in his mouth. I’m also a firm believer that reading the word sushi will cause one to crave it sooner, but back to the task at hand. My only salvation to the thick summer air is a long straw constructed out of five regular straws, which allows me to sip a beverage and not feel woozy from picking it up. My stationary body may prove to be an easy target for those with assholes from above, but if this summer of unanimous irritability has taught me anything, it's that sushi sounds pretty good right now and that birds will die of heat stroke or Alka Seltzer poisoning soon enough.