Yesterday's beach reunion was ace. I didn't develop hypothermia in the water or burn my feet off by walking on the Saharan sand, but I had a blast chilling with fools and collecting nametags (Fuck yeah, I'm the RZA!). Arguing fruitlessly with Justin about the immense sucktitude of Transformers and Shia LeBouf, leading into a heated shouting match about who's the best superhero, as well as screaming the lyrics to "Don't Stop Believin" and "Enter Sandman" were like fifty different kinds of awesome. It's possible to have fun in Santa Cruz without freezing your goddamn testicles off!
So let me talk to you about Santa Cruz!
I thought it was a pretty lame place the last time I was there, but considering I didn't do much, maybe I judged it a bit early. Maybe almost dying on the way there had something to do with it, but I'm not too sure. But what do I know?
I was driving back with a counselors (in Matt Shew's beautiful Lexus, by the way), and I saw that the surrounding neighborhood was very quaint, quiet, and the quintessence of "Sleepy Town" (like that "Q" action there, did you?). Combine that with the fact that the weather is almost perpetually sunny and you have most of a winner on your hands!
The rampant tourism and the unbelievably cold weather when it gets dark puts a damper on the parade, but I suppose they could be condoned. It's not like you have to party with douchebag tourists at night or anything. Unless you're a tour guide. In which case, you better kill yourself now because that's about as exciting a job as watching other people's nails grow.
PS. Such a filler entry. But I figured if I was going to talk about the Beach Reunion, I might as well continue with something relevant.
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