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Phasing Wolf Sound?

June 12, 2012

I blame 4am. Possibly the prospect of another 6 hours driving. It would be the only defense as to why when Frankie asked the car what symbol FedEx hid in their logo, I sat there ponderous…considered googling the FedEx logo. And then announced: I wish we had a FedEx logo to look at. The car all looked at me, and considering Zach was driving he should really look ahead so we don’t have a collision with the FedEx truck ahead of us.  Prayer answered? Or truck was always there and that’s why Frankie posed the question to begin with. Touche, Life. Touche.

We had just purchased cupcakes, 12 of them, so obviously my brain was effing distracted. Jessie is going to make her wonderous gluten-free pizza so we go to the Hairy Teet to stock up on grocery. A light drizzle had arrived when we check out so I duck my head and run with the others to the car. I open the door and bend in half way to be stopped by strange wine bottles in the back seat. We didn’t purchase wine. 80 Skinny Girl bottles? Yes. But wine? Nuh uh. I sit with my form half in the backseat contemplating the appearance of unpurchased booze when a voice from the front seat brings my head up: A stranger sits in front of me, he says “Hey.” What is a stranger doing in our car? Is this where we get murdered? Because we all agreed to not have sex the first night to keep these murderers away. Oh… I see… I’m the stranger in this mans car. I don’t recognize the wine because it’s his wine. I have yet to remove myself from his car. Finally I snap to and shriek out a pretty loud OHMYGODI’MSORRY! before vaulting myself out his car. The car next to him laughs hysterically, my friends in the right car laugh hysterically, and I laugh hysterically out of SHEER EMBARRASSMENT! It was brought to my attention that if I was in that car for the longest 35 seconds of my life, my friends were standing outside that car watching me watch wine while a stranger watches a stranger girl from his front seat. Touche, Life. Touche.

I can’t even discuss what happened on the beach. Let’s just say that was a first. And last. Please last.

We all went to eat breakfast at a place called Causeway Cafe, famed for blue crab omelets. It’s a weekend so the place is buzzing with activity, we put our name down and try to act like locals as we serve ourselves free coffee outside. We look cool. The boys have gone to a local shop called Redix (ree-dicks is how we said it, apparently it’s red-icks) to see about a belt for Frankie. They come back, no belt as they only have one that is $50 dollars. I was to express this place looks like a “Big Lots” in need of a makeover. Frankies response? Nodix. So we wait to be called for a yummy feast, only…what is this? Who is this man with turrets barking strange words on the deck of the establishment? JOHNSON!SMITH!GARRET! It makes half of us jump every time he does it, they really should escort him from the property. Until…ZACH! Ooooooooh, he’s just calling names for tables…with the manner of someone with severe turrets. Makes sense. Cough.

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