(no subject)

Hi DC. I was going to stick around the city for the first weekend in months, but when the going gets hard, the G. runs away. Back to the beach, where all problems are solved by 10% butterfat and copious amounts of aloe. And Connect Four tournaments. I kick so much ass at Connect Four.

It was a busy weekend down in the tar heel state:

- BD and I witnessed a spectacular car crash that resulted in a denim-jumper bedecked mother and her four similarly attired daughters stumbling from a totaled Malibu in complete shock, (one of their heads hit the windshield, most def.), and an old man with broken glasses and a bleeding face. I tried to awkwardly help until, thank god, a real-life Mom type showed up and I was off the hook. The cops, apparently, did not want to question the dog or I, so we kind of stood around and gawked for a few minutes before leaving the scene.

- I read "Assassination Vacation," finally.

- I watched a drunk redneck couple, Cutoff Short Woman (Debbie) and Purple Man (Chrsitian Name Unknown), who must live nearby because they are ON THE BEACH EVERY TIME WE ARE THERE, get drunk and stay drunk and sing along to Journey, and have contests with each other to see who could "build the best tits out of sand."


PurpleMan and his Elusive North Carolina Sand Tittie. The PurpleMan's name originates from the idea that his skin is so tan, it now appears purple. It is a moniker he has given himself.

Also, I think they might have stolen beer out of someone else's cooler. (When we went to the beach on Sat. night, the D and I taught their teenage son how to keep his arm up in the air, because gnats fly to the highest point. He was so amazed by this information, he took off down the beach, cusswords a-flying, looking not unlike Arnie Grape.)

- After taking the dog to the beach Sat. night to chase crabs, I spent the next morning cleaning up poo. If your dog has a sensitive enough digestive tract that simply switching dog food brands leads to massive butt explosions, don't let him eat a crab.

- That kind of reminds me, we had Taco Bell on the way home. I haven't had Taco Bell since 1997. No worries, things stayed copasetic. We didn't let the dog have nachos.

- The D. and I helped the N. with a commemorative sculpture. More on this later. Kid is big into arts-n-crafts lately.



The N. may have invited you, Internet, to watch a movie with him on the Mall tonight. But instead the N. is going to Fort Reno to watch Meredith Bragg. He apologizes for the mixup, and invite you there to cuddle with him in the chilly, 97-degree night instead.