I’m sitting in an air-conditioned Super Shuttle van on Wilshire Blvd., and I can feel the inferno-like heat baking the sides of it. It’s like we’re cruising down 111 in Palm Springs or Palm Desert. You could fry a bloody egg on the sidewalk. Oh, yeah. Bloody hell. I’m sweatin’ here. Roastin’, bakin’, boilin’…and San Diego will probably be a tad hotter, I won’t arrive until midnight or thereabouts. Seeing Funny People first at the Arclight this evening.