So I got to LBI yesterday evening, and my shore trip got off to a ridiculously scandalous start.
Remember that boy I liked a couple years ago and that horrific date I went on?
We met up secretly on the beach at 1.30 AM.
We were there until 3.30 AM.
::burns in hell::
I feel like these sort of things only happen in movies and Harlequin romance novels.
Thankfully, no sand got in any *sensitive* places.
BUT HOLY HAND GRENADES I HAVE SAND FECKING EVERYWHERE. Like it's in my ears and still falling out of my hair and between my toes and I have tiny bits of seashells embedded in my skin.
I'm going to the beach now, and I plan to start drinking at noon.