Swim Suit Surprise

Given how much I hate sand, it is ironic that I find myself hitting the beach in Ocean City this week for the second summer in a row and that I am going to Hawaii at the end of the year. Sand truly is one of those things that never, ever goes away. When we return and unpack our bags, I will not be surprised to find Tycho, our ginormous rabbit, building sandcastles in his quarters.

The other things that disturbs me about beaches are the surprises I find suctioned to my flabby white body when I peel my bathing suit and swim shorts off to shower. On Sunday, my titties were draped with seaweed. This afternoon, my gut was coated with dark sand and little rocks. There were bits of seaweed plastered to my thighs both days. Fortunately, it rained on Monday, so I was tortured at a children's museum in a nearby mall instead of by my regular Jersey Shore nemesis. Actually, the museum was kind of cool and I scared the bitch at the front desk into giving me a refund after she fooled us into paying as group, which only allowed us to use one coupon. I think she sensed the anger bomb that was about to go off and wisely chose to diffuse it.

Regardless of the sand, seaweed, surly museum officials, and the ants that invaded the upstairs apartment of the two family home that Husband rented again, it is good times. As every postcard says, wish you were here.