The blistering cold has returned to Isla Vista. Hurray. As much as I love hardened nipples and being able to keep my beers chilled by simply leaving them in the backyard at night, I hate having to wear a jacket out. You bring the jacket. You’re warm on the walk. You get inside the house. You get toasty. You take off the jacket. You get drunk. You forget the jacket. You walk home. You remember the jacket halfway. Shit. Do you go back and get it? Nah. It’s too far, and besides, it’s fucking freezing outside. What the hell am I doing here anyway? I’ll get it in the morning. You wake up. Where’s my jacket? Where the hell was I last night. Blimey! I haven’t the slightest idea. Where’s this warmth you promised me Al Gore?