I wish my Sunday was funnier. Instead, it was just oddly perfect. We all woke up early on Saturday, and for once, followed Matt's spreadsheet schedule to head down to Singing Beach (he's a great planner but terrible enforcer). Everyone paid the fee to go onto the beach except Kev, Jo, and I; no one stopped us for contributions to Manchester-by-the-Sea and we were quite OK with it. The sun was out, the beach was beautiful, the food was junk, and the company above the food. The only thing that was remotely funny was Helsinki's lack of color despite hours of trying and Redman Matt. Mr. "I'm-very-flexible-and-can-apply-sunscreen-by-myself," Mr. "don't-bother-getting-me-face-sunscreen-I'll-just-use-some-from-my-arms," and finally Mr. "let me lie here awhile with my t-shirt on and towels over me because it's barely 2pm and I am already beet burnt and it pains me to wear flip flops." Oh, white people, you never cease to fascinate me.
Runners up for funny (it was a slow day in the humor factory) were Spoiler Jo-- we walked by a few girls chatting along the beach. One was showing her friends the place and asked if they knew why the place was called Singing Beach. It was obvious to me that the girl took great pride in the knowledge and wanted to share it with her visitor friends, but it was not obvious to Jo. So she stepped in and said, "It's because of the way the sand sounds when you shuffle through." Which earned her no gratitude, but a dirty look and "thank you," from the poor, thunderless girl.
And a conversation I had with a newly acquainted stranger that went something like this…
Moi: I work at [the hospital].
Girl: Oh, do you know Dr. Jennifer… Jennifer something? She's an OB-GYN.
Moi: No, I don't. How do you know her?
Girl: I've been trying to get her to be my OB-GYN for months, but she's really busy.
Moi: …
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