… because, let’s face it, it’s pretty fucking awesome.
Okay, let’s break this down a little. It’s mostly a blur of endlessly discussing which body of water, be it pool, beach, other pool, or other beach, to lie beside; but I shall try to jot down a loose itinerary of my two weeks in St Lucia. One thing that you can take as a given on each and every day is that several Rastafarians would demand that we fist bump them (and then offer us drugs), and several over-enthusiastic bartenders would satiate us with an inexhaustible supply of rum punches that were slightly stronger than pure gasoline. The endless photos will be around soon (mostly of topless people who probably shouldn’t be topless), but until then, here’s the gist of what we got up to.
I like to dress weird. I’m the only person at my job who doesn’t wear a uniform, and not because I see myself as ‘above the law’ or anything quite so roguish, but simply because I like to express myself with every part of who I am. I walk stupid; I skip and stumble and […]
I want to see this reposted everywhere because Becky is adorable and refused to go into the sea and then this happened and it was cold and hilarious and I’m a terrible, terrible boyfriend.