...what?

That's where we almost ate the other night, on this weekend's roadtrip when magically whisked away to...

Delaware.

Hi. We're in Delaware.

That's Dewey Beach, to be exact - who knew there was a fun little beach town in...Delaware? Sorry, but I just can't get over the fact I spent two more days of valuable time on earth in...Delaware.

After a tragically failed canoe expedition planned for Saturday, RND, 19th Hole, Smash, Frosty, Jed, King Juan Carlos and I all decided to get the hell out of Dodge. We left 11pm on Friday; two hours later I was fading fast when we encountered Crabby Dick's on the coastal highway and suddenly my spirits were renewed.

I grew aroused: We just had to visit Crabby Dick's. But the guy behind the desk at the Econo Lodge told Smash and RND that Crabby Dick's made everyone sick. Ha - who the hell cares? Once you know Crabby Dick's exists, how can you not check it out?

(Yes, I spent most of the weekend making jokes like this, and no - it still hasn't gotten old.)

We spent Saturday frolicking on the beach - 'even rented a couple of boards, but the waves were barely breaking.

I am still living with your ghost. Lonely and dreaming of the West Coast...

Last night was dinner and drinks on the dock. KJC and I made the only sane selection of the party, and split the large crab special - just excellent. No mallets were involved in the destroying of said crustaceans. In a stunningly generous gesture of goodwill, 19th Hole picked up the entire tab...and yet still wound up on the floor without a bed both nights. 'Never say we're not thoughtful, considerate friends.

Later, the alcohol flowed a bit too freely, beach exhaustion set in, and by the time we stumbled back to the room everyone was a bit crabby. I fell asleep to the dulcet tones of Frosty and Smash arguing on the balcony.

But even during the worst of times, you remember: Life goes on. We woke up, checked out, dropped off Smashtar at a Delaware Exxon station next to some sweaty guy not wearing a shirt to pick up a Greyhound (she chased after the truck but we pretended not to see), drove past multiple crab shacks, then went to Friendly's for some very not-friendly breakfast that we would pay for the whole way home, where I passed the time staring at the mullet-laden southern Delawarian family in the booth next door, and thought:

Here I am, living the dream.

...

I'm Ron Burgundy, go fuck yourself San Diego.