Done with the beach. Thanks to SPF 50, you'll never know I was there. Unless you're in a position to be looking at the underside of my ass.
I was sad to leave just as the bikers were getting riled up. While waiting for an elevator a few nights ago, a couple of guys asked us (me and the sisters, one being THIRTEEN) if we get high, to which my step-sister replied, yes, we get high on Jesus. I am not lying. Later the same night, as I kept watch on the balcony and made every effort to clear my head (ha) I was treated to the all to familiar sounds and smells of a couple of phillies blunts being enjoyed on the balcony next to me. Damn you, Nero, for making me so accustomed.
Vacation: Bonus Round.
Chad called while I was on the beach to berate me for being anywhere near the Carolinas and not calling him, then he suggested we meet him on the way back so I could make my escape. Now I'm in Charlotte, return date unknown. We watched Return of the Jedi last night, and I discovered, to my dismay, that this jerk has decided to watch all six films in a row tomorrow. Oh, that I could be there for that. Since Chad and I started with number six, I'm seriously considering the idea of watching them all in backwards order, in true prequel fashion, but that would mean ending with Phantom Menace, which would really put a damper on the whole affair. No sense in trying to compete, I suppose. I crave not these things.
I'd love to post more boring details about my trip, and the state of my head these days, but you can thank my battery I won't.
Yay, Yay, Yay!
Listening to: Some vaguely uninteresting coffeehouse jazz-type substance