Don't You Hate It When People Make You Look at Vacation Pictures?

Subtitle: Don't Worry, I Don't Expect You To Care

So, we’re back.

And I’m back at work. Oh wait, I forgot! I don’t work; I’m on welfare! (See also: the cruelty of Dave Matthews fans.) But I’m seriously done talking about that.

Anyway— vacation was amazing. Just what I/we needed. We spent most of our time lying around on the beach:


Didn't you know that I have gigantic shoulder disease? I do. It's not funny. Whap! Seriously, I don't know what's up with that.


I told Robbo that his legs would probably get hot if he wore his sweater-pants to the beach, but I dunno, he wore them anyway.


On Friday, we went deep sea fishing. Yeah. Deep. Sea. Fishing.
Things that I don’t do very well:
1) Freestyle rap
2) Pee standing up
3) GO DEEP SEA FISHING

The first two hours on the boat were beautiful:


Too bad they were also quite possibly some of the worst of my life. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stomach the movement of the boat, so I popped two Dramamine before we left. At 4:45am. Did you know that Dramamine will make you sleepy? I didn’t.
It also didn’t keep me from being nauseated, just from throwing up. So I’m on the boat, sick as a dog but unable to vomit, unable to keep my eyes open, and thinking, “only 8 more hours of this!” At one point, it began to rain and I didn’t even notice until I opened my eyes and everyone was inside the cabin and I was soaked. Completely oblivious. It was like college, but without the fun.
Eventually, I got used to the wobbling of the boat, but vowed never to do it again, as Robbo puked over the railing. We’re definitely land-people.


"HELP ME OH GOD HELP ME!!"


Ahem. Anyway.
We also went to the previously-mentioned Cape Hatteras lighthouse:


This is us doing the stand-here-and-smile picture in front of the lighthouse. The man that took it for us carried his own camera around in a Crown Royal bag. I complimented it and he glared at me and said, "It gets the job done." Ooookay.


I have to say, one of my favorite parts of the trip was staying in Richmond on the way down--our very first stop was to a gas station. You know, to buy beer. Because it's NOT Pennsylvania. I always forget about this luxury until I leave the state, and then I'm all, OH! Thank you GOD! Here's us being grateful:


Yes, those are 32-ounce Colt 45s, affectionately dubbed "thoh-ties." You know, like foh-ties. Forget it.




And you know what? Despite not being able to buy alcohol anywhere I damn well please, it's still pretty good to be home.