I’m on a productivity rampage this morning. My inbox has been mowed down, bills have been paid (even some that were already set for auto-pay… woops), honeymoon plans have been set in motion (hold tight on that one), and the weekend’s agenda (including a 20 miler tomorrow – eek!) has been finalized. I guess the only monkey left to get off my back is this danged final post on EB’s Epic SoCal Adventure…
I can’t believe I just said epic. Ugh I hate myself.
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So after the wine tour to end all wine tours Eb and I headed down south to San Diego to spend some time with SD Friend (you know – the one from the beer&desserts pilgrimage) Being surrounded by hometown friends, I felt an homage to my small-town OH roots was in order :
By Saturday afternoon all of the excitement and running around being awesome had us a little wore out, so we spent the majority of the afternoon falling in and out of consciousness at the pool. Once the sun started hiding behind the trees we summoned the energy to shower & head out for dinner.
Wet-hair ponytails, some half-ass makeup, and copious amounts of caffeine later, we were out the door for Huntington Beach.
(You might remember my disaster of a meltdown during my last trip to HB. If not, you can relive it here. I’ll wait for you to come back, promise.)
Huntington’s a cool place, if you’re into the whole surfer-dude, barefoot on the sidewalk, random guys painting Bob Marley by the beach sort of thing. I, well, am not. I like order, and grid-like streets, and people who cross at the crosswalk when the Ped Xing sign tells them to. I know, I’m a real blast. About as much flavor as a saltine. Living on the edge! Woo! What.EVER.
So we went to HB, we walked around, we had sushi & gelato (again), and EB finally got to see her beach-side sunset from the pier. I’ll admit it, I had a good time. I even bought a tshirt from last week’s surf competition from a sidewalk sale. And ok, it was kind of the perfect ending to EB’s trip.
So we’re walking back down the pier, satisfied with a low-key but really incredible evening, heading in the direction of the car. A group of people was forming near the end of the pier, and as we moseyed by we peeked over to see what all the hubbub was about.
These three guys went all America’s Got Talent/Best Dance Crew/So You Think You Can Dance/Olympic Gymnastics on us. Flips, spins, jokes, some inappropriate interaction with the audience, et cetera. For their final stunt that guy in the red shirt was going to attempt to JUMP and FLIP over like, seven people. Without a trampoline. Or Moonshoes. Or a jet pack. Freaks, that’s what these guys were.
So they grab seven innocent spectators, and naturally EB is one of them. I tried to get some good pics but had my hands full with two purses, two cameras, and all of EB’s embarrassing touristy crap she bought.
They went down the line and asked everyone their name, made a funny joke about them, and tried to get the audience to give them money. When it was EB’s turn, instead of their typical “20! 20! 20!” chant they demanded “phone number! phone number! phone number!” At her unwillingness to cough up either, they said they’d settle for a kiss on the cheek.
Now, I’m sure all of you reading are thinking to yourself “oh pleaaase tell me she didn’t fall for THAT!”
Yup, she got the head-turn-at-the-last-second and wound up landing a fat one right on this random foreign street performer’s mouth. It was pretty funny, but I definitely disinfected her bathroom after she left.
Back to the trick. So little monkey/Michael Jordan guy got a running head start and…
… freaking barrel rolled, in the air, over all of those people. It was really insane. I would have been nervous for EB and the rest of them, but I was too busy trying to get the camera set to snag an awesome action shot. I failed, but at least everyone lived!
We crashed early once we got home, and woke up just in time to make a pit stop at Yogurtland on our way to the airport. Can I tell you how incredibly fat I feel walking into a frozen yogurt shop 5 minutes after they open? Can I also tell you it was the best breakfast I’ve had in a long long time and it was worth the fad kid criticisms?
So that concludes the tale of Hurricane EB and her Incredible Journey To Southern California, hosted by Yours Truly. I’m gonna start charging for this. Momma’s gotta pay for that wedding somehow!
Give me a tram car and a megaphone and I’ve got this tourism biznass in the bag,