people revel in the fact that they live in florida or have a vacation home. 72 year old retired hags and their husbands with shriveled ballsacks and flip flops. oh, but thank god i can get a buzzball at the local wawa at 11 am before i head to the beach where there’s sweaty college nerds playing beach volleyball. i find myself wishing i was them.

it’s too humid and my silk press is ruined. i don’t even know why i would get a silk press in these conditions. i have worms in my head instead of a brain. i flew here for a lesbian libra that only really gives a fuck about herself and getting off to me. she pays for everything, even the bag of chips i tried to steal. doesn’t she know i don’t give a fuck about big corporations? she gets mad when she can’t figure out the parking meter and i start to feel like i need to disappear. i don’t really know why though, but all i know is she’s angry and i can’t fix it and the sun is beating down on me so fucking bad i swear it has a vendetta against me.

we shared shitty wine at the pizza place next to the beach. i hated my slice and she gave me hers, classic cheese. i want to climb over the table and just eat her out but my face is greasy and there’s a family of four next to us. so i try to be classy and pretend like i’m not imagining worse things. little did i know she was just imagining other women! white girls who were more established in their queerness. liberal feminist full bush blasé squase.

so i left, and cried on the plane ride home. unfaithful lesbians and spirit airlines, you will be dealt with.