Ah, the sunny, sunny heat. I am a heat monger in the worst way, and 86 and humid is just my style. So, I spent most of Friday and Saturday slathered in sunscreen and snoozing on the beach. It was awesome.
What wasn't awesome was the fact that I forgot to slather the SPF on my neck and chest on Friday. Everywhere else, I developed a nice glow. There, I fried. When I woke up and headed inside, it was pink. Later that night, it turned bright red. By morning, it had a lovely purple tinge and swear-to-god, had turned crispy. The best part is that I've got one white spot by my collarbone where I apparently wiped the last of the sunscreen on my fingers. Knowing me, I meant to get more sunscreen and finish, but then just didn't. The remainder of the weekend consisted of locals asking, "You aren't from around here, are you?"
Awesome. I'm that guy. (The photographer took pictures of most of the guests, but I hear he mistook me for a tomato and moved on.)
|"Fried Egg on the Plate Without the Plate" by Salvador Dali. AKA, "An Accurate Depiction of How I Feel Right Now."|
I was travelling with my best friend Seven, as his plus one to the wedding of a friend of ours from high school. He and I actually make good travelling companions. I've got a fair bit of experience flying, but he's the one who is organized enough to keep track of things like what gate we're flying out of and where I've left the GodPod. We like the same kinds of food (which we ate a ton of), and he's a good sport about me geeking out and dragging him to places like the Dali Museum (more on that to come).
Seven and I first became friends when a guy in our algebra II class asked if we were siblings. We don't look much alike, but we do have that kind of relationship. As in, we tease each other pretty mercilessly. (Okay, I'm merciless. Seven just holds on for the ride.)
For example, we rented a car. And by we, I mean Seven, because I'm too disorganized to manage something like that and also I'm a terrible driver. He asks me which of the several cars we can choose from I prefer, and I tell him I don't have an opinion. Then, no sooner than he signs the paperwork and we load our crap into the trunk of a white Mazda 6, I say we should have gotten the red one. Which I proceeded to tell everyone throughout the trip. Not that I actually cared. I meant it when I said I didn't have a preference--it's just so fun to see Seven take the bait. Every. Single. Time.
Cracks me up.
(True: Just after the wedding, during the official serious professional photography time, a parasailer's kite very nearly took out the bride, guaranteeing that this is one wedding we'll never forget--love you, Kate!)