>Things are jumping in the O.C. (Ocean City, of course.) The Explorer and I discovered a much more pleasant place with WiFi access than the McDonald’s. While the McDonald’s was OK, it was hard to concentrate with all the kids around us having nervous breakdowns about their milkshakes and what not. Plus, it was about 2,000 degrees in there. I felt very bad for anyone who had to work in that heat and racket. On the way back from McD’s on Sunday, we passed by a little café and have been hanging out here since. It is quiet and cute with little sofas and murals. Ronald McDonald and screaming brats – er, children – are nowhere in sight.
Last night before Steph left (sob!) she gave Husband Footloose on DVD. I can’t remember (shocking, I know) if I mentioned that Ocean City was originally founded as a Methodist retreat town (there are still several Methodist centers for church groups visiting the town), but its original laws are indeed similar to the puritanical impulses of Beaumont, the town in Footloose. Several of our guests (and I!) had never seen the movie before, and we all enjoyed watching a young Kevin Bacon shake his extremely adorable heiny. As for the plot, yeah… let’s just say it has not aged very well. Or worse, I have not aged well! Sister and I danced up a storm to the still rocking soundtrack, though. For real. It lightening and poured. It was lovely to have a night in with the group.
On my way back from the internet café this afternoon, a pickup truck passed me while I was walking. As usual, I was not paying too much attention to my surroundings, and I was startled by light honking. No one seems to honk here, so I was curious if there was some sort of traffic debacle ahead. I verified that the roads were open when the honking started again. My head spun around to figure out what or who the fuck this dude was honking at when I realized that it was little old me. The guy had his head hanging out the window looking back at me while he was driving. I felt like I was supposed to be filled with feminist rage at this objectification of my body, but damn, that cracked me up. The whole town is filled with saucy packages (my expression for shapely teenage girls in tight or revealing clothes), and the guy is honking at a 30 year old hag in jeans and a tank top. Granted, they were tight jeans and a very fitted tank top, but nonetheless. Hilarious.
After that weird ego boost, I joined most of the group trooped over at a water park for some non-salty wet fun. Late in the evening, I went back to the internet café. I have been waiting for voting to begin over at The Memoirists Collective and it seems that it is only beginning at midnight. I probably will not have internet access until tomorrow morning, and I have no idea what time the voting ends. If you have a chance and want to vote for my submission (a copy of which I posted at CUSS on June 28), that would be awesome. The competition is tough, but I’ll keep my fingers crossed