would you like a seadog with that?

I'll always remeber these days.

It runs in our vains. The ability to live freely, tan up, and do things that may ends us up in the back of a paddy-wagon. We are the ones that dream of kegs at night, with their perfect lips, 'foam-balls' and hollow goodness. The sand between our toes and the salt in our hair, it creates for us a system of living, dirtily that is and loving every minute of it.

Just imagine the feeling of waking tired and groggy, knowing the the ocean is softley calling your name with its soothing sound of waves crash on secluded beach, the sun floating above the horizon. Rock cuts and the lack of consideration or care for a melanoma. Zinc tans are the reminants of a good time, and how dare we ever be asked to scrub our colours off. And of course the glow of the sun on the ocean floor.

That's our type of fun.