I�m a little scorched from today�s surfing. Once again, I�m back from the shore and dreading the wet, sandy wetsuit that�s still in my car.

I guess the extreme sport waterproof sun block (or whatever it�s called) doesn�t hold up against four hours of being pulverized by waves and thorough exfoliation (keep that in mind). It was a little rougher out there today.

Isn�t treating ones sinuses with salt water is supposed to be healthy? I hope so, because I did a lot of that.

When the good surfers are excited, I know to be worried. They were really excited today. I made it back to type about it.

After all the jumping I did in karate this week, I was already sore waking up this morning. After battling waves all afternoon, I�m curious as to how the body will be feeling tomorrow.

It was a gorgeous, perfect day at the beach. Afterwards, while walking down the boardwalk towards my car, my friend turned me and said, �Look at the people enjoying themselves here! Parasailing! Swimming! Surfing! This is freakin� paradise!�

I had to agree, it was freakin� paradise.

We stopped for lunch just outside of town. We changed into dry clothes, had a good meal and then drove back satisfied.

I love the beach. If I hadn�t gotten too tired, I�d probably still be there (well, probably not at 10pm), but I kept going until I was too exhausted to get back into the water. I barely slept all week. I think that�s contributing to the exhaustion and soreness.

I think I�ll sleep well tonight, though. Oh, that reminds me, last night, I dreamt that I went to LA�s house. I�ve dreamt about diaryland people a few times, and many other people I�ve known from the internet that I�ve never met, over the years.

Oh, I guess I�ll update about Christians friend. On Tuesday (I�m not sure of the exact day here), when Christian asked me if I�d meet his friend, he asked me if I wanted a picture. I declined and asked he write me an email instead. What a person has to say is more important to me than what he looks like. Besides, if he wants to meet me, I�ll have to see him, anyway, right? There�s no way around that.

The next day, Christian forwards me a picture in an email. It�s encoded funny, like he copied and pasted it out of Word. I�m almost sure that�s what happened, actually. Nothing written.

First of all, he doesn�t have web space anywhere he can upload an image? What is this? 1995?! Secondly, he didn�t even attach it appropriately. It definitely was not attached appropriately if you�re sending it to a web developer.

I was more horrified by the improper attachment than the fact that he didn�t follow directions. I know he didn�t because I reminded Christian that I asked for him to write me, not send a picture. He said he knew that, and he told him so, but that�s what he sent, anyway.

After that little exchange, neither of us said anything about it again. There really wasn�t much to say. He�s average looking. I figured that if he has more confidence in his photo than his written communication skills, we�re in trouble.

He sent me an email on Friday. It was short. I replied, and we exchanged a few messages.

He seems a lot nicer than the evil villain I imagined he must be for sending such an attachment.

I don�t think any person who would send an image that way would understand my problem with it. I�ll never be able to explain that and sound sane.

Wow, I can�t keep my eyes open anymore, and I think we have perfect sleeping weather right now, yay.

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Saturday, Aug. 11, 2007 at 10:42 PM