or Mother Nature does a Mea Culpa
Okay, so remember last year when a viciously vindictive nor'easter dropped by creating the perfect storm of vacation suck keeping our heads literally underwater for a week? No? Well you can read all the gory details here.
I don't know what happened, maybe Dr. Freud dispensed the ideal mood enhancing drug cocktail or some sexy, six-pack-ab Latino is cleaning her pool now (she's such a Cougar!), but Mother Nature was in a spectacular mindset and did us a major solid.
|fiery sunset after the storm|
Hurricane My-Name-Is-Earl threatened to dampen our frolic time from the start, but Mommy Dearest Nature promptly blew his ass out to sea, leaving only rough surf and sunshine for our entire stay! No shit! It was an absolutely picture-perfect, sayonara-to-summer week at the Jersey shore.
I hate leaving Summer's behind. Wait...what? I mean summer behind.
(what a crap joke. sorry.)
P.S.: I love the Jersey spirit. Even though a hurricane was a comin', Jerseyites came out in droves to give Earl a collective up yours! Pffft!! We ain't afraid of no storm. Hell, bring the kids on down.
|"The sea was angry, my friend" George Costanza|
|15 foot waves and lots of sea crud|
|what hurricane? bring the kids.|
|hurricane earl: family fun for everyone|
if the little ones fly away then they weren't holding on tight enough
|stealthy storm surge drenching looky-loos|
I heart those f*cking humps.
Anywho, this year there were six of us adults and one very large Lab puppy, Otto. We did the usual... snacked, drank, swam, drank, gabbed, ate, drank... you get the idea. This go-round the bar consisted of freshly made vodka mojitos, margaritas and a new guest... Patron shots!!
|Mmmmm... Not enough Os in smooth (hiccup!)|
By the way, Pee Wee's original playhouse is playing on Broadway through January. We're going to try to get tickets during our vacation. Mecka Lecka High Mecka Hiney Ho!!
But I digress...
As a general rule, all families are dysfunctional...it's just a matter of degree, right. I have to say though, ours is pretty damn cool. Everybody feels comfortable doing their own thing on vacation. Bud and Les would get up early to walk Otto, I'd get up shortly after to hang on the dock with some Morning Joe and everyone else sort of stirred whenever the mood struck them.
|Dockside Morning with Bud and Les|
Being a Lab, Otto was all about diving in the lagoon to retrieve a ball, a stick, severed arm. Wait...what?!? Okay, it was just a hand.
I kid. I kid.
For a 10 month old puppy, he's really well behaved. Here he is waiting patiently for someone to come out to play. Wouldn't you love to know what's really going through his mind?
Looking at this pontoon, you might be saying to yourself, "So how the EFF is that 50 pound lab getting out of that lagoon?"
Thanks for asking, and please...watch your language. You know I'm as gentile as a freaking Pilgrim, Asshat. Anywho, check out this nifty little trick Leslie taught him! All of the dog lovers will love this.
Ladies and Gentlemen. Otto, the amazing ladder climbing dog!
Nothing like a deep pull from a long neck (or can) of an icy cold beer after a long day of water play, right pal?
|alcohol appreciation...start early and often|
welcome to the family
That should get the briny taste of sea water off your doggy breath.
Speaking of Otto... holy crap! How did this turn into a story about Otto?!? Last pooch story, I pinky swear. I had come back from the beach earlier than my sibs, because honestly there comes a time in the day when the thought of one more piece of sand scratching my cooter is absolutely unbearable. That's when I know it's time to take a dip in the pool and rid myself of all beach abrasion.
So, anywho, I do my usual--drag my sunburned self across the rocks and dive into the lagoon for a refreshing cleanse. After a quick swim up and down the waterway, I hop on an oval floaty to relax and drink in the remains of another gorgeous day.
Otto, who clearly now is my boyfriend, has been whining the entire time I'm in the water. He's so loud, his pathetic wails are bouncing off the surrounding houses in an echo rivaling any peak in the Alps. So Geo, being the nice guy he is, lets the dog out of the house.
He bounded off the porch at lightning speed and didn't stop until he was airborne and headed straight for me and my floaty. His big, ole puppy paws clawed at me in a misguided effort to hug me right into Davey Jones' locker. I mean I dig me some puppy love, but Holy Crap! I was going down for the count. Of course I could not stop laughing big belly laughs as I was being pushed and pawed, which made it worse.
Geo tried to distract him by throwing the ball anywhere away from me, but in the end Otto staged a coup d'etat and usurped me from my comfy float.
Look at how happy he is floating there without having to doggy paddle so hard. How could I deny him and his adorable puppy dog eyes...
Then the silly bastard goes and pops the pillow by chomping on it, rendering it DOA for the remainder of the week. Besides the fifth of Ketel One, I'm happy to report the floaty was the only other thing killed that weekend.
So how does one top an exquisite week of sun, surf and sushi? What could possibly be the cherry atop the creamiest chocolate sundae with strawberry sauce?
Hmmmm.... I don't know. How about a back-to-back shot of the divine Mr. Miller on the ride home. But that's a story for another blog post.
|selling it in Sellersville|
|Yukking it up in (Dick) York, PA|
(ok, that was pretty lame)