Hooray no Apocalypses!
So Mexico was freaking awesome... I'm so glad I went! I also didn't spend the whole time worrying, in fact, as soon as we got to the house, I was totally over my terror of Mexico.
The weather was perfect; breezy and in the low 80s. Me and Bahb spent both days just lying on the beach drinking Corona and playing in the ocean.
The beach.
I am a masterful picture taker. I actually didn't take that many pictures, maybe like 10 total, because sand and water and portable electronics do not mix effectively.
All of the houses were so random, and the vast disparity from one to the next made it a really cute and eclectic little beach.
I'm running off to play in the ocean. I wish I had a close up of me in my swim suit... it's adorable.
So it kind of hurts to look at these pictures, because holy shit, the sun did a number on me. I got burned all over. I know it's my own damn fault, I was too busy playing with clams and crabs and burying Bahb and being buried and frolicking in the low tide and drinking Coronas to remember to put on sunscreen.
I am pretty much purple right now. Even my little bum is burned! Oh no!
Here's me and Bahb, we're ludicrously good looking... duuuuuh...
I know what you're thinking, and why yes, Bahb's sunglasses are Prada. What a dapper fellow! He also knows what a "tiered mini" is thanks to a shopping trip to the Juicy Couture outlet that he found particularly boring.
So anyway, in life we are given so few moments of perfect clarity, I mean, after all, it isn't it the human condition that we eternally thirst for insight into the where and whyfore of our existence? But when I climbed the stairs to the roof of the beach house and looked down and saw this...
In that moment, I knew. That's my fucking dude.
To completely forsake the toilets located mere feet away and walk outside to spell "Bahb" in the sand? That's basically the most poignant example of what makes a "Bob" a "Bahb."
This doesn't hurt either...
Here he is just diggin' a hole to put me in.
Then we proceeded to make anatomically exaggerative sand bodies for each other.
Well, at least my sand body was anatomically exaggerative... HEY-O! COUNT IT!
It's really hard to tell where the classy ends and we begin.
Anyway, I hope I didn't offend anyone who might have stumbled across this, however, I did tell you in the title what you could expect!
Have great days anyone who reads this, and I will be back with more outfit posts just as soon as I can start wearing things that aren't my C&C french terry drawstring pants and a threadbare shirt that says "Polish TShirt" upside down. Wah, muh skin hurts!
