I’m a Phelpsmerican

It’s been a really long time since I’ve blogged. I’ve been on vacation in Rhode Island, very busy drinking too much and getting too much sun and just basically over-doing it. Twelve people in a one-story, three bedroom house? Check. Everything was stinky by the end of the week.

In summary, we went there, we went to the beach, we drank things, we ate things, we slept, we came home. Just extend that summary over seven and a half days and you get the idea. Ashley washed dishes. I complained that the bathroom smelled like mold. Liz may or may not have gotten sun poisoning (I’m guessing not). Billy’s bathing suit began smelling strongly of parmesan cheese. We surfed. We ran through the streets of a quiet Rhode Island beach town and tore that shit up. We caused a ruckus. Michael Phelps won the gold. Michael Phelps won the gold. Michael Phelps won the gold. Michael Phelps won the gold. Michael Phelps won the gold. Michael Phelps won the gold. Michael Phelps won the gold. Michael Phelps won the gold. (Yes, eight times. A new world record, people, COME ON!)

I have some pretty amazing friends.

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