This weekend flew by. Of course, it's Tuesday. But yesterday was Memorial Day, so I guess I've more of an excuse than usual. Not much happened. A predictable amount of drinking (Tom Collins, by the pool) and driving around when I probably shouldn't have. Yesterday started out sunny so we prepared ourselves to hit the beach, where we were alerted that Miss Fraser Miller would be all day. On the way there it started raining so hard that we couldn't see the road, so we made a quick u-turn into "Waterman's Seafood," the kind of place where they just cover your table in brown paper and set you up with some mallets and some bibs and a big dish of butter sauce and an even bigger plastic bucket for the shells and just sort of dump out a mountain of crabs and corn still in the husks in front of you and you end up having to (like the guy seated to the right of us) change your shirt at the end of the whole ordeal because you're so fucking oily; it was great. Brigid almost threw up by the end of it. After that we continued on our way to "Ocean City" to find Fraser, and find her we did, "on the corner of 2nd & Philadelphia," in the "Sea Breeze Motel," shacked up with a bunch of vets, all sporting an array of impressively awful tattoos (this one guy just had RAGE sprawled across the entirety of his stomach), drinking warm Natty Ice and watching Daisy of Love. Fraser loves the army. They all, loved the army. We didn't get to go swimming. I drank half a beer and we drove home.
Happy Summer, all.
No comments:
Post a Comment