Journey to Pensacola, FL.
First time at the beach.
First of all, how adorable are they? This was not set up by humans. They simply love each other and wanted a photo op. Granted.
Alabama greenery. Rain. The beginning of a journey like no other journey.
-The newly wed game for an hour and a half.
-Not one, but TWO drivethrus.
-Sketchy glances thrown.
-Old men at cash registers with impossible-to-understand southern accents.
Brucey. You know how sometimes there's the twin sisters in the movies and one is obviously prettier and nicer and just all around better than the other one? That's how it is with Max and Bruce.
Except Bruce is the one who is better, and Max is the one who will die bitter.
Already workin' it.
Bridges are terrifying. I can never understand how they are structured to stay up, because there's nothing holding it up in the middle. Speak to me Architects. I've been meaning to read The Fountainhead for quite some time now. Perhaps it would offer valuable insight.
It's 1:30 a.m..
Wait, when you are typing the time like that in a sentence, would I put a period after the period marking the abbreviation for whatever the hhhhh m stands for?
Would I say "It's 1:30 a.m." or "It's 1:30 a.m.."
Mr. Lind should have prepared me for this.
WARNING. SLIGHTLY INAPPROPRIATE MATERIAL LAYS AHEAD.
Ok. I'm always scared to say condiments and condo, because how humiliating would it be if you accidentally said condoms? (When I originally wrote that, I said condom instead of condo. See, common but fatal mistake.)
British invasion.
Zooey, you are British.
I took this photo for you.
My sister told me I can't openly admit I watch Pretty Little Liars.
This is me revoking my previous admittance statement.
I watch it purely because it is the WORST acting, CHEESIEST lines, and most AWKWARD couples.
I named my voodoo doll after Toby.
Google him.
You'll understand.
(Dear Toby, if you are reading this, I'm sure you're a great person. You just chose the wrong career.)
Bye, guys.
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