Hey everyone, come get your fresh, piping hot ferrets here today!
(Yes, I know, this probably has something to with iron, but leave me to my jetlagged japery.)
In other news, I visited my first ever topless-allowed European beach yesterday. As expected, it was infinitely less erotic than advertised by Hollywood. There’s a fascinating bell curve to be mapped between the relationship of young/gorgeous or old/alarming and likelihood to disrobe. Not that I’m criticizing people who are comfortable in their own skin; good for them. Bodies is bodies. I’m just amused by the difference between reality and the titillating myth engendered by an industry that thrives on pandering to the repressive tongue-wagging of the world’s most prurient industrialized society. Or whatever.
In any case, the sight that most intrigued me at the beach was the water here in the Canary Islands. How is it so blue? Do they just dye it every day like Chicago’s river on St. Patrick’s Day? It is simply stunning. I can see why Europe has warped this entire island’s economy to revolve around tourism.