The last few weeks I have been completely uninspired to write anything, choosing instead to either nap in the afternoons, or flop out at the beach for the day.
Last weekend I found myself in P-Town for two days with my dearest darling Dr. Hotstuff. Seriously, my friend Dr. H gets cruised oh about every seven seconds. It's extraordinary, and yes, he IS that good looking. At least I and every other red blooded gay man thinks so.
While the trip started with a mad dash across town and a blizzard of prayers to the Travel God that I would NOT miss the 9am ferry, everything after that was lovely.
I rented a tricycle, because I could. Despite the fact that it is unbelievably heavy, totally unwieldy, has a violent pull to the left, and made me pant like an emphysematous dog on a hot day - it was tremendously fun to la-la-la cycle about on it.
Behold the tricycle!
Carnival beads, natch!
I will eat anywhere that offers a Foot Long Dog. Sad, but true.
The Lobster Pot is an institution.Overrated maybe, but I think secretly everyone wants to "sit on toppa th'Pot".
Road to the beach.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...............................
I LOVE SUMMER!!!!!!!
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