So I'm off to the beach today. I heard it's crazy, and full of weird people, who do weird things and wear weird clothes. And I'm told they do all of these oddities in order that I can take their pictures. Really? it's amazing I know. people do love me so! They must know that I will fit in with them... I'm excited. The beach is called Ocean City and I believe that it would be considered the trashy beach around here, yet everyone goes, of course that means I'm going too to experience the insanity... I was thinking about instead going to a quieter, nicer beach, who wants pictures of sunsets and pretty water? Do you really want to see another one? You know you appreciate crazy people. You just won't admit it. Without them life would be one endless Saturday at the AYSO soccer fields where your surrounded by cardigan-claded moms who discuss their children's personal information with perfect strangers and the only substance you can eat is those horrific excuses for food lunchables and the only thing that quenches your thirst on this hot, endless day is Sunny D... Yes, my friends this is the life of the "normal" people. (you go ahead and remain in the search for normalcy; it's your funeral)...But I on the other hand Thank heaven for Hippies, Nudists, People that wear costumes, the crazy cat lady, weird families..... sorry to interupt but I believe my Ecuadorian ride is here or almost. I got up at 5:15 because I thought I would be picked-up around 6 well right now it's almost 7, yup I know, I know. Like my aunt ethel( may her poor decomposing soul rest in peace) always use to say--punctuality is the closest thing to godliness, so tardiness must the closest thing to... , yup I think you know what tardiness is close to. the place were Mean Old Man Jones probably went or the crazy cat lady's black cat, the one whose eyes glowed every full moon. but what can I dooo? I'm an innocent bystander to these blasphemies. So I believe that the second half of the post will be about the beach and maybe have some pictures from it, but you never know I might be inspired and then start talking about how much I like crabs, which at the very least would make Brooke laugh, but make everyone else wonder why brooke would laugh and of course the eternally asked question of why it is that I write a blog, and if my parents decided to read this post, not likely, they will praise the heavens for the millionth time today that I don't make a living with words. The poor World if I did; but really more importantly than the world - My poor bank account! If I wrote for money, The only thing I would ever eat would be bean and rice. Oh wait, ::Inge realizes something very important about her life; her life becomes a crystal clear in front of her very eyes: what is this realization you ask? the only thing that she eats now is beans and rice with a side uh..... beans and rice?:: OH Shiznick! I'm panicking! Am I allowed to have a mid-20's crisis before I'm in my mid-twenties? because I would really like to have the permission to go legally insane. But is there a quota to how many mid-(insert noun here) crisis you can have? If I have one in the 20's, I might run out of crisis by the time mid-life come, and then I'll have no energy to have a mid-life crisis. and everyone know it just looks bad if you don't have a mid-life crisis. Like you become unrespectible or something, like the kid who gets picked last for the game of volleyball. I would be a disgrace to the family; I will be the "One" ::the one the everyone talks about with a disapproving voice. I will be aunt whose life is used as a conversation piece when there's an awkward silence around the dinner table or when ::Family Member 1:: have you heard what what happened to Inge?Family Member 2: No, want happened?FM1: well let me tell you....[insert nasty hateful words] FM2: [inserts their own nasty words and finish the nasty comments with --> well, bless her heart.FM1: Yes, bless her poor little heart. I would be completely, totally and eternally ostracized without hope of returning to Sunday dinner table to eat Granny's Spaghetti and Meatballs. Lord, you know I couldn't handle it: the Spaghetti-less life. A fish out of water, a bird without wings, a fat lady without a song, or a catholic without guilt! Oh Please! Just give me the strength for a mid-life crisis, that all I ask. Ok enough of that I am going to crawl into a cave of beans and rice and eat myself to death. or bloat myself to death because I'll probably I run-out of bean-O. ::note to self:: pack extra-strength Bean-O and Febreeze the vanilla scent because the vanilla is the best.. I'm an expert on these sort of matters. I'm think of starting a business with my wealth of knowledge;)Moving on photos of Ocean City and some of the random people I met there. They come from all over the world (Russia, Taiwan, Japan, etc.) to work and live in Ocean City for the summer and then they return to their countries with this perfectly unAmerican, but all at the same time American experience under their belts. For all my East Tenneseans out there in internet land. it's like living in Gatlinburg for the Summer and saying that you've had the Tennessee/Smoky Mountain experience. It's just not true. It's a lie I tell you: a lie! Oh and you know, if you want you can leave me comments. that's would be cool. ( in other words Inge's self-esteem is tied to the amount of comments she gets; but don't tell her I told you that because then she'll get mad at me. and then beat me. I don't like to be beaten.It hurts.) --->
