So let�s try to make this one a little more lucid than last time, okay? It helps that I am 100% stone cold sober right now, but I�m not exactly notorious for linear thought. For example, in a state of extreme fatigue on Saturday night, I did ask May Day with some urgency if she�d put any lotion on her license plate yet. I still don�t know what that was about, but it made perfect sense at the time. Did I mention I was really, really tired? And, okay, kinda drunk. But mostly just tired!
And listen; there was a really good reason for the fatigue! See, May Day and I were determined to get in some quality time at the beach this weekend, seeing as how beautiful the weather was, and when our friend Mark called and invited us to play volleyball with him and his friends from work, how could we refuse? I mean, we were certain to be getting in some decent exercise and sunbathing, all at once! Well, May Day was certain to be getting the exercise. I play volleyball about as well as I conduct autopsies. Which is to say, poorly.
So we drive all the way down to Mark�s pad (he lives to the south), at which time he tells us that we have two options for getting to the beach whereat his friends are playing, approximately one mile still further south. These two options were a) drive and spend thirty minutes trying to find parking, or b) walk for thirty minutes to get there, and try to score a ride home. I don�t know why -- maybe because all three of us lack any kind of foresight what-so-damn-ever -- we decided to go with option b. So we grabbed our things, and a couple bottles of Gatorade (because we may be stupid, but at least we�re�okay, we�re stupid), and off we went.
Incidentally, Mark is really, really bad at guesstimating for time and distance. We soldiered on under the hot afternoon sun for an hour, traveling well nigh five miles, until we reached the place where his friends were supposed to be. Notice how I used the words �supposed to be�? They weren�t there. Anywhere. At all. And believe me, we looked. We walked halfway to fucking San Diego, and his friends had all decided not to show up. We would actually have laughed about the predicament, but for the rapidly developing heatstroke and attendant hallucinations.
In the end, we decided to take advantage of the fact that we were on some completely deserted stretch of beach in the middle of nowhere under a beautiful late afternoon sky, and we all lay down and pontificated on existentialist mores in this age of so-called enlightenment. I think I might have snored. After three hours of such pontificating, we all awoke�I mean, �got up�, and reassessed our situation. Here we were, at the southernmost tip of the Baja Peninsula, without any mode of transportation to get us home again. We were tired, we were hot, and we were tired (it bears repeating). Also, we were very tired. Obviously, we were completely screwed, and would have to find jobs working on the beach until we had saved up enough money for the plane fare home. Fortunately, it was at that point that fate intervened.
Like the clarion tones of a digitized, electronic ringing device, May Day�s cell phone sounded. It was our friend, calling to see what we were up to! �We�re at the beach,� May Day said evasively, �come pick us up!� And pick us up she did (our friend, I mean, not May Day). We were saved!
So, kiddies, let this be a cautionary tale for you all! The moral of the story, of course, is �don�t listen to Mark, because he doesn�t know what the hell he�s talking about, and you�ll end up working at Hot Dog On a Stick or hawking boogie boards at the beach for the rest of your life if you�re not careful�. Well, that and �always be prepared�.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: Julia schemes nude And: Zach Braff I�m Watching: Reno 911! I�m Still Confused About That Last Entry. I mean, I�m just saying.