It’s so hot that my Hot Pockets are now Scalding Pockets.
It’s so hot Mary had a little braised lamb.
It’s so hot people are standing near pregnant women to be there when their water breaks.
It’s so hot my soup gave me brain freeze.
It’s so hot I hit on Megan Fox just to get the cold shoulder.
It’s so hot the breeze gave me a blowout.
It’s so hot my chicken laid a hard-boiled egg.
It’s so hot, my taint is hosting the next biosphere project.
It’s so hot that the boils on my back all popped at the same time.
It’s so hot that my pimento cheese sculpture of George C. Scott had to be placed into my meat locker.
It’s so hot farmers are harvesting corn already popped.
It’s so hot my colostomy bag is making my apartment smell like a Golden Corral.
It’s so hot my weather app converted to scovilles.
It’s so hot that the pope murdered a bunch of people just so he could cool off in Hell.
It’s so hot, I swear, I just saw a rotisserie chicken fly by the window.
It’s so hot the Statue of Liberty plaque was rewritten: Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning for central air conditioning.
It’s so hot police chalk outlines have sweat marks under their arms.
It’s so hot Ted Cruz’s dad went back to the grassy knoll… for the shade.
It’s so hot my weed smoked itself.
It’s so hot farmers are harvesting tomato bisque straight to can.
It’s so hot Hell’s Kitchen is just called Kitchen.
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Morgan is a comedy writer and all-around Very Cool person living in New Jersey, where she was also born and raised (help, i’m trapped!)