Tropical Beach

Autumn and I are sitting here this morning, watching some crappy Jennifer Aniston movie (I'm on Team Angelina), both of us woken at 6:30 am by a freakin woodpecker AGAIN (at least he doesn't laugh like Woody or else we both would have shot him already) and discussing where we would rather be. The conclusion after looking outside at the grey skies and wet deck leftover from last night's rain? Some tropical beach where it's 80 degrees, sun beating down in a cloudless blue sky...no birds chirping and drinking something fruity with an umbrella in it served to us on a silver platter by an exotic man named Rico with abs of steel all shiny with lotion that smells of coconut (but not Body Builder steel or shininess cause that's just creepy and disgusting), waves lapping gently. It was at the waves lapping part that Autumn stopped my daydream and asked me to repeat that. Apparently it sounded like I said the waves were laughing and i was like well yeah, they saw us in our bathing suits. I suppose in Autumn's sleep deprived day dream the waves don't laugh but that's just crazy talk. All waves laugh.

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