Me and Mr. Barista pulled up to the beach house on Tuesday night and threw our belongins all over the back yard. We figured we’d spend most of our time out there, and that would be more convenient than actually using drawers and shiz. Just to be on the safe side, we tossed some old soda cups from Arby’s on the front lawn for ash cans.
Then we went to Harris Teeter and talked about how rad it would be if they came to Richmond as we paid for our $12 peaches, four cases of beer, bottle of Arbor Mist for me (hey, hubby knows how to romance this girl) and condoms. Sike, who uses condoms anymore?
We killed a 12 pack in the hot tub and tried to see who could throw their beercan the farthest. I won. But truth be told if Mr. Barista hadn’t pegged that pelican, he might have took me down.
TLW showed up on Wednesday bright and early. Too early for my taste. I like to sleep my way through a hangover until at least 1:30 pm. Our favorite dude from Gloucester rolled in right about sunset, so we all settled in for a nice jointgame of Spades. TLW sucked ass at Spades until I gave her the stink eye and told her to do as I say or else. She called me competitive and I said damn straight! Round here we play for cash money. After that she took it seriously and helped me whoop some tail. We played to 300. This took three nights, and countless beers, but we eventually showed them boys. We made the boys listen to Lady Gaga as we did our victory shuffle.
During the day I mostly just floated in the pool. I preferred the raft with the 16 built-in cup holders while TLW took the tiny pink zebra raft. She kept talking to it and telling her raft that it was a much better friend to her than me, but who brought her all them brewskis? Not that prissy zebra. Not one time did she offer to get another round. That’s why I didn’t feel bad about putting her eye out with my cig. The zebra, not TLW.
A few times we headed on down to the beach but all those people with kids scared us. They kept looking at us funny while I advised TLW that whoever said a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach is full of sugar honey iced tea. It’s a bit south of there if you know what I’m saying. Plus all those uptight adults kept letting their children play in the rip currents. I guess they figure toddlers can figure it out on their own.
We did real good eating. Real good. I’m talking two whole bags of those tortilla chips with a hint of lime. They worked out nicely in our Corona once we ran out of real limes. We also had some seafood. We chewed it up and showed each other all through dinner. That joke never gets old.
We were real sad when it was time to go home, so Mr. Barista made us laugh when he did a couple of donuts in his four wheel drive in the front yard. Then we all shot-gunned beers like they do down at Victory Lane at the mud bog and hit the road.
I guess that’s about all. I can’t wait until we go back. Maybe me and Mr. Barista will make a baby now so that we’ve got someone with us to help pack the truck up next year.