It's 9:19 on a Wednesday night in January... just drove by the bank and it said 67 degrees farenheit. I agree.
This morning, I woke up, did some work that had a today-like deadline, then took Jon Theodore up on his offer to make good on an old promise to take me surfing. It was fuckin beautiful out today. I'm not a good surfer -- dude I'm not even a good "paddler out past the breaks" but man do wetsuits rule it. I've had that wetsuit sitting in my closet for well over a year now with tags hanging off it and now I'm about ready to slap myself, cause just hanging out in the ocean in a wetsuit is a party. Oh, and the real party is in the peeing.
Carpe diem though. Brah. You know? I thought it, and then I did it.
Life is good, I mean it.
A couple weekends ago we had crrrrazy Santa Ana winds and I drove out to my favorite driving-out-to spot, and everyone in Southern California who owned a motorcycle was out there riding, which is when you know it's not just your imagination that this is the best day ever in the history. It was that kind of air that felt good to touch... like I couldn't keep my arm in the car, it had to be out the window touching and squeezing the air. I was in a bikini on the beach in January, and it only cost me like $2 in gas to get there. And I didn't have to confer with anyone... I woke up, I fed the cat, I opened a window and said "Holy shitcakes" and got in the car and grabbed that day by the balls and fucked it senseless.
