Just Beachy

Prior to our west coast endeavors, we paid a stealthy visit to the granular grounds of North Myrtle Beach. Hella humid with murky, disgruntled looking clouds throughout, we were eventually graced with the melodic, cigarette-smelling sensations of a high-school-reunion band. Maybe it's just me, but there's nothing more entertaining than watching a 40-something with strategically heaving bosoms bust-a-move with two plus glasses of fine travelers-esque wine in her system (can someone say 'Elaine dance'). This is all I could accomplish for the rest of the day in my resulting stupor~

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