My husband and I are enjoying our yearly trip to the beach. He is especially enjoying the opportunity to eat great seafood. I am not.
I was recently informed by a friend of mine that vacationing at the beach but not liking seafood is “just as big a waste as being a gay man at a women’s festival.”
As we were shopping for hats tonight in one of the many beach-wear stores on the island I heard what I am pretty sure is one of the signs of the apocalypse; namely, Santana’s “Black Magic Woman” as arranged for steel drums.
Why I Love My Husband So Much: Reason 3
While I l-o-v-e the beach and the ocean, I am a total wuss about actually going into the water, because I am afraid of being touched by scary sea-dwelling objects that I can’t see.
Instead of running away screaming, my totally awesome husband bought me some Aqua Socks-protective foot coverings that allow me to fully participate in the beach experience without actually touching any part of the ocean.
For some reason, whenever I am at the beach my naturally curly hair bypasses “frizzy” and vaults directly to “Medusa-like.”