Beach: Day Three
It's 8:30 p.m. local time and I'm sitting on my 13th floor balcony, sipping a nice Shiraz and munching on microwave popcorn, awaiting the fireworks which will explode over the gulf in about an hour. It just doesn't get any better than this, does it? From my perch I can see the white caps on the beach and the knots of people with flashlights searching for sand crabs. Our hotel charges $9.95 a day for wireless, but from this height I can pick up someone in the condos next door for free. Thanks, Riggs, whoever you are.
I am sorry to report that I am being stalked at the pool by a trio of tots who appear to be 16, but were overheard gossiping about a fellow traveler saying "That's sooo high school" so I must assume that they are in fact in college. One is brunette and sadly, quite plain. Another is blonde and terribly fat although she seems not to realize it. The third has long dark hair and is fairly attractive, if one can overlook the fact that she insists on speaking considerably louder than anyone else in her group at the pool.
No less than six tanned and toned young men with their boxers showing above their tan lines surround this group at any given time. Obviously Miss Loud Mouth is so threatened by my mature sexiness at the pool, that she must wear a new and different bikini each day in order to compete with the attentiveness of these suitors who are so obviously enamored with me that their hopes of spending even a single moment in my presence bring them down day after day to our hotel pool.
Sorry, I have no new photos today. But My Kid went shopping yesterday at the Kenneth Cole outlet shop, and this person that we brought with us on vacation seems to have transformed into some teenager that I do not know. He bought long-sleeved, fashion tops that he is now INSISTING ON WEARING OUT EVEN THOUGH IT'S 110 DEGREES F.
He also bought two pairs of Sketchers which apparently now trump the $30 plastic Crocs I bought for him at the beginning of the summer that he just HAD TO HAVE and wouldn't consider leaving the house with anything else on his feet. The crocs were, in fact, the only shoes he brought with him to Florida.
*sigh* I brought my child with me on vacation; I bring home a fashion model.
