Tag Archives: memories

August 3, 2011

3 Aug

On August 3, 2011, Dane and I went to the beach and it was a lot of fucking fun (he hated it when I said ‘fuck’ because a “little lady in pearls shouldn’t have such a dirty little sailor mouth”).

Fuckity, fuck fuck fuck. I say it all the time now to see if he will come haunt-scold me just so we can hang out for a little bit. So far, I have had zero luck with this plan, but I do get to say ‘fuck’ a lot, so, I have that going for me.

 

 

One hour after I took this photo, we got in the water and a wave knocked me off my ass and took me down. Dane said I disappeared for a minute and when he saw me, I was rolling up the beach with seaweed in my hair and my boobs hanging out. Both of them. And what did he do? He pointed and laughed, drawing attention of other people who then all saw my heaving, washed-up bosom covered in sand. If ever there was a hearty laugh that came out of that man, it was on that day.

That night, we played Pirate themed mini golf and he said he “tried” letting me win because of the whole wave incident, but I was just that terrible at mini golf. Whatever, I was just having an off day. Afterward, we went out for dinner and drinks and I had the best scallops I have ever had in my life.

Then we got more drinks and I did the Carmen Electra Booty Shake for a group of people and then I danced to classic rock with old white trash guys while Dane laughed and then I had “just one more” and he ended up having to carry me to the car.

I guess I am telling you this because August 3, 2011 was the beginning of a great week with my best friend. It was certainly better than what I’m doing now, which is sitting on my couch with ice on my ankle because I fell under a streetlight while running last night and my shorts half fell off, revealing a single butt cheek, and then two guys laughed at me. I cried and limped myself a mile back to an empty house.

I must admit, there are few things after a good cry that are better than ice cream.

Anyway, that’s what I was doing a year ago. If you love someone, hug that person nice and tight and have a good weekend. (Dane, if you’re reading this, I don’t want to be haunt-scolded for saying ‘fuck’. You know ghosts terrify me. Miss you.)

 

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