It’s hot. It’s uncomfortably hot.
We are down south and today the weather crossed over that wonderful 100-degree mark that says: ‘I hope you brought water.’ That moment when you think to yourself: ‘I didn’t know I could sweat from there.’
With heat in the hundreds and humidity in the high 80s, my wife said, “The weather is a little hot today,” to which I replied, “At 100 degrees and 85 per cent humidity – that’s not weather hun, that’s tea.”
We have come down to Florida this time of year for the past four years. It lets us get away, sweat off the winter chill and enjoy some good old fashioned expensive family entertainment from a large talking mouse. Last year, after our annual Florida trip, I quickly flew back to Canada to rejoin a comedy tour I had been on in Newfoundland. So, one day my Facebook profile was me in Disneyland in shorts and a t-shirt and then two days later, it was me off the coast of St John’s on a boat, in a parka holding onto a small piece of an iceberg. No surprise here … with a weather change like that I became unbelievably sick.
The worst part about me being sick is that it’s worse than anything else. I don’t get the flu or that bug that’s been going around. No, no, this enormous gent that I am – I get the Man Cold.
That’s right. When my body feels the sniffles, all manners and self respect fly out the window and I become a tiny, petulant child. I want a glass of water but I can’t get it because the sink is so far away! Can you make me some soup? I could do it myself but I am so achy and coughy!
My beautiful and caring wife just smiles and takes care of me. She is a nurse and so brings me medication and goes out of her way to make my life – which is endlessly difficult during a Man Cold – much easier.
We talk about having babies but I think spending a week with a whining 350-pound baby may have changed her mind. The other day, after calling for her for three or four hours because I couldn’t reach the remote that was a foot away from me, I asked her what she was reading on her computer. She said it was a new book. I’m pretty sure it was an article on assisted suicide. Men are unbearable when it comes to colds. If we were horses you would just take us out back and shoot us. We can’t even function.
Imagine if we had to deal with actual pain and discomfort. Imagine if one man had to have one baby one time. That would be it. Forget the Armageddon, that would be the end of it. We couldn’t handle it.
When I was a kid I grew up watching macho men on TV and in movies and I wanted to be them. For the better part of my childhood I wanted to be Schwarzenegger from Commando. Take a bullet to the arm? Walk it off. Get hit with a pipe in the back of the head? Walk it off! One time I popped a pimple and it hurt so bad I cried a little bit. I don’t think I will ever be Rambo.
Watch for Victoria comic Mike Delamont on Just For Laughs All Access on the Comedy Network on Aug 29!