Yet Another Damn Post About Woodstock
Irritated Talk


Sometimes a gal's just gotta get away, especially when a cute guy suggests it, so I informed my boss on Thursday that I would be taking today off. Joe and I got up at 3:30 am on Saturday, threw some stuff in a bag, and jumped in the car.

Two and a half hours later, we crossed the Route 90 bridge into Ocean City.


We did a whole lot of nothing, and it was good. The weather was extremely conducive to beach sitting and ocean swimming and we took full advantage of it. It's August, though, so there were some jellyfish floating around. But they weren't big jellies with stinging tentacles; they were little disks of clear gel. The rising tide swept them onto the beach, small crystalline hockey pucks. They weren't even particularly jelly-ish. Kids collected them like crazy, scooping them up with sand shovels or picking them up with their hands and collecting them in buckets. One kid even skipped them through the surf like stones on a pond.

They didn't bother me -- the water was too nice to be bothered by a few little gelatinous blobs. I floated in salty bliss until I turned pruney.

We spent a good bit of time with SonnyeBoy too, which was another kind of bliss. He turned us on to a great little BBQ joint in West Ocean City, slightly off the beaten path, with excellent food and cheap prices. It was great -- one of those places where you order at the window, then go sit at a picnic table on a screen porch. When your food's ready, a waitress hollers your name and you go pay and pick it up.

And then you eat. And lick your fingers.

Sometimes, you just gotta get away.