Burned By The Fourth Of July

Thanks to my Irish/German lineage, my skin makes for a perfect target for sun radiation. Cold showers, thick coatings of lotion, avoiding hugs, and cursing have been at an all time high this weekend thanks to the warm beaches of Santa Monica. Prancing around half naked is only a good idea for short periods of time. If I were rewarded a grade for my sunburn this weekend, I'd be allotted an A-. The A is because I turned myself into a tomato. The minus sign is for being an idiot. Going to the beach can either be really awesome or horrible. This beach trip was a solid inbetweener because we were all exhausted after baking ourselves and there is something about roasting on the beach that makes you have to pee.

Oh right. It's called dehydration.

We had the best idea to hike to the Hollywood sign the next day and what we forgot to keep in mind was that hiking to the sign meant going up steep inclines. A group of us tried adventuring up the side of one mountain for a view. But we failed epically going back down the mountain. It was like a ski trip down, except more dirt and prayers we'd make it out alive. 

One thing I learned: Hikers are some cheery goobers. I'd never heard more "Hi's, Hello's, How's it goings, and how are you's" while scaling a mountain. I even got a high five from some random asian guy when we made it to one of the peaks. We were unsuccessful in finding the sign, and the sun was beginning to set. If you ever need a pick me up hike up the side of the mountain and watch the sun set with a group of really happy strangers.