Florida, 1. The Mayor,...1 mother'effers!!

That's right! I got Florida's janky-ass back! Remember when, almost a week ago, the Florida sun domashized my back? Well, now it's better (sort of). It's peeling up a storm; I'm like Goldmember or a snake. My skins so gross, I bought it this card:MAJOR DAD JOKE, I know. Truthfully, though, it's gross as hell. My sheets are completely covered in skin flakes. I feel like I'm sleeping in Scrooge McDuck's money pool (if it was filled with sheets of skin rather than gold coins, of course.

Moving on! I need to talk about how I rule Florida. Now, if you're one of those Friends of PETA or whatever, or if you get pissed every time someone gives a cat the cut-eye or hits a squirrel with their car, then you better just skip this next part and read about my adventures at Cracker Barrel, cause this next part will ruin your day. But honestly, just deal with it - God gave us animals to eat and teach tricks to and dress up like babies. Sometimes God gives us animals to pry from their homes so we can use their homes as decorations. SPOILER ALERT!!!!

It's no secret that I love seashells. I have spent a good portion of my vacation picking up shells on the beach and arranging them on our balcony in little rows. Sort of like Nadia Suleman with children, I suppose.If I see one that's cracked or covered with too many barnacles, then I will just throw it back. Let the sea have its own garbage. Like this little guy:The beach is littered with this kind of shell, so I don't keep these ones. If someone brings you back one of these guys from Florida, you should politely thank them for spending all of 60 seconds on the beach looking for a shell amongst the literally thousands of similar shells. Then clasp their hands in yours and go "you truly are the King of Kings" (A Burns for All Seasons will never not be a great reference). So, needless to say, I'm picky. I never usually come across shells totally in tact, so when I found this one, I was over the moon (Dlisted reference). Uh oh, do you see that? It's a critter! I found a shell that had not yet evicted its degenerate, no-good, low-life tenant, so I figured I would do it myself. I first tried knocking it out, but he was stuck in there. I guess they grow that way or something (gay) so I then did what any normal, 25-year-old woman would do - I threw it in an empty tin can and filled it up with boiling water. Well, I'll be damned if it didn't smell just like Red Lobster. DEEELISHISS! Throw a little butter in there, and you'd have a tasty snack. Once it was good and white (and looked like shrimp) and drained the water and took a 2-pronged fork to it. Out ya git, lil' fella!EWWWWW! Get back in!! Get back in!! It's like looking into at Paris Hilton's no-no area without a HAZMAT suit. Isn't that disgusting? To give you an idea of how big that thing is, it was about as wide as my palm (and I have massive man-hands). So what did I do? Called my Nana over to look at it. I was doing this in the kitchen about 2 feet away from food prep, btw, but she didn't care too much; she grew up on a farm, so she's seen chickens get their come-uppance. She told me that the best thing to do with it would be to toss it into the ocean and let a pelican eat it. Good call! I walked it down and set it free into the ocean to wait for a bird to eat its ass. Well, it didn't wait, pre se. It was long dead.

The moral of the story is...I like shells, and no two-bit slug is going to come between me and my precious.

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