I just posted some random number of facts about me cuz I felt like it.

So, yeah, I am back from Cocoa Beach. May and I had a good time, of course, and I'm sure that within the next few weeks, the drunk stories will be appropriately exaggerated enough to tell you all. Cuz that's how drunk stories work, you know.

Some highlights:

- Lots of beach and sun and waves with their happy little negative ions making me feel OK.

- BEST ORANGE JUICE EVER.

- Copa-fucking-cabana came on the radio Saturday night and I stood on the motel balcony, beer in one hand and cigarette in the other, and did my dance number. It would so totally have been an MTV Spring Break moment if, well, it wasn't me. And the song wasn't by Barry fucking Manilow.

- A car full of very nice boys elected one of their friends to graciously show us his ass. It was hairy and glowing white like bridal sheets. Yes, this was a highlight. Shut the fuck up.

- Details are still a little hazy, but I'm pretty sure I told Jerkface I hated him because he made me relate to Robert Smith. I think a Cure song came on the radio and I started to...ROBERT FUCKING SMITH, you guys. I know I yelled a lot and my voice sounded funny cuz I had wandered into the bathroom, but the rest of the diatribe is (thankfully) unclear.

- May and I made sand wangs and then smashed them. SMASH.

- I gathered lots of pretty shells. Because I am compulsive. And could not stop picking them up.

It was good.

And it hurts like hell to be home.

Yeah, I know, cheer up. Whatever. Cocoa Beach is totally a clit tease. Now I want to go all over the place and find different ways of utilizing negative ions.

This sucks.

But only because I let it, right? What's keeping me from spending next weekend somewhere that's not here? Seriously. If I keep on spending time away from this town, maybe I'll stop feeling like such a stupid piece of shit.

I really, really want to go camping.

<<< TOP >>>