dispatches from the beach, vol. 2

the drive to the beach today was largely uneventful. i managed to get myself slightly off course only twice. i've decided that google maps doesn't want people to get to the outer banks. can you blame them? in google HQ, there is some guy who is sick to death of douchebags driving SUVs around the east coast with their blazing OBX stickers. he wisely makes it difficult to find the way to your beach cottage.

i had one of my first celebratory post-wired jaw meals today. ever since the accident, i had been craving one of earth's most delicious fast food meals - the spicy chicken sandwich at wendy's. divine.

i had a mild amount of difficulty eating the sandwich, as my jaw isn't opening too wide yet.. but i got it down and i was so completely satisfied. what a perfect sandwich. thank you, dave thomas.

i was thinking while i was eating my sandwich. here i was at this wendy's on the road to the beach and just about everyone in the restaurant was going to the beach. i started thinking - i bet it must be nice working at this wendy's because all your customers are in a good mood, everyone's relaxed and excited about going to the beach. and then i realized very quickly that assholes don't go on vacation and it doesn't matter if they're going to the beach or not. working fast food, even on the road to the beach, still probably sucks ass.

i made sure to be extra nice to help lend some weight to my original theory.