It's that time of the year when I visit my grandparents in coastal North Carolina and take snaps of the vaykay (hate that word) at the Outer Banks. And Budweiser bikinis. And Confederate flags on monster trucks. And restaurants with gross names (Dirty Dicks, The Poop Deck, Salty Peters). Koo koo crazy. Koo koo excited. Koo koo ka-choo. Gesundheit.
The denizens of North Carolina greet me as I step out of the airport.
Once all the hellos, hugs, introductions and how do you dos were made we strolled over to the beach for a sunset walk to the pier (and also the good surfers go surfing around this time and uh doye of course I need a confidence booster like getting hit on by a crusty surfer before I go bathing suit shopping tomorrow.)
Graveyard of lost crab shells.
So the snaps kinda speak for themselves (either that or I am very tired and unusually clammed up). That was Monday or at least the last half of it. Our flights took most of the day and I was ashamed of myself for watching Valentine's Day on flight but anyway, here is today (Tues):
Is our vampire fascination just another misplaced obsession with England?
Ok. Good. Now my camera is empty again and I can fill it back up. See you tomorrow. Hopefully tomorrow I can snap pics of Dirty Dicks (that rhymed. Also, gross.)
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