july is the strangest month.

what ever happens in july? after the fourth, there's really nothing to look forward to, because we all know it's the most stagnant month of all, sandwiched between the middle month, neutral june, and the anxiously awaited new-school-year month, august.

i mean it.

every time you think of a fond memory, it didn't take place in july, did it?

no. because nothing ever happens in july.

no one finds a boyfriend because the summer is almost over and no one wants to chance any new relationship trickling back to high school.

no one gets married because it's too damn hot everywhere.

no one has a birthday, except for maybe two people. ever.

no one reads a great book because we're all cramming summer reading assignments into thirty-one days, far too occupied with writing half-hearted essays to actually enjoy the characters.

no one writes poetry.

no one plays football.

no one's cat has kittens.

when you're having an odd day and completely forget what time of year it is, you think it's either december or april.

do you get what i'm saying?

vote for:
suvs.
goats.
satin.
worms.
clocks.
boats.
trees.
the new eleven-month calendar.