Happy Birthday, 'Merica
I changed out of my suit bottoms and got to ride commando in some very loose house shorts. I wish I had planned that a little better, but 'gina enjoyed the breeze. I didn't ask if my ass liked it, but I imagine she enjoyed the fabric caressing her surface as I walked. I'm pretty sure she did. I did. Moving on.
We had lunch at the Crab Shack. It's an institution. I had dungeoness crab. If you ever need a lesson how to eat crab, you need to call me. I am a pro. I can shuck a crab and have the knuckles devoured in five minutes flat. People who leave the knuckles because "it's too hard to get the meat out" make me tear up. I weep. It's so sad. That's the good stuff! Get in there! Use your sensitive fingertips to avoid the cartilage and pull that meat! Put it into your butter cup until you have it all. Turn the cup over and press to drain. Voila! You have your own crab cake. And you thought I was only good at one thing. Pish.
Or I didn't want to really smile because I had chipotle cheese dip in my teeth.
Happy Birthday, 'Merica. I'm glad we got rid of the Brits. I hear there's at least one left we need to purge...

3 Comments:
I respect your skills.
Aye David Beckham and you can keep him.
Anon -
YOU HAD BETTER!
Coot -
Ah, dahmik. We don't want 'im.
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