the outer banks, nc. it is my ex-home and the epicenter of dark comedy, delivered in a seasonal spirited fashion. i rather enjoyed (another weekend) packing boxes with wifey and seeing good friends, etc.  

i got quite a kick out of this pretty awesome quote from a surfer-dude stop’n'shop employee today when (for whatever strange reason this came up in conversation) describing the smell of dead hermit crabs and explaining how its the storewide notification signal when its time to dispose of one. 

“damn, did i just say all that shit about those nasty fuckers?!? good call getting off the beach man. god i hate my life i wanna kill myself.”

wicked, mate. that makes me smile.