So… we’re sunburnt. No, wait… correction: we’re fried. Like two walking sundried tomatoes. You know, like, all shriveled up and red. Ew. So sad. So many tan lines. But, so totally worth it. It all started when we rented our convertible VW beetle, blasted Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream, and we were all like, hands in the air, “WE’RE ON VACATION, BEACHES,” rolled our heads back, looked up into the sun, and were all like:
Chris: “I MISSED THE SUN SO MUCH!!”
Brock: “I WORSHIP THE SUN!!”
Chris: “YESSSSSSsssssssSSSSSsssss.”
Brock: “YES YES YES!”
Chris: “I LOVE THE SUN!”
Brock: “I love the sun MORE!”
Screaming.
Panama hats, espadrilles and Birkenstocks, swim shorts, popovers and the loosest fitting shirts. This is how we did 85% humidity. Except, no. That’s a lie. We were topless most of the time. NIPPLES OUT FOR THE WORLD TO SEE.
