Mission: Florida '05
St. Petersburg
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | Thur. blog | Weekend blog | Mon. blog |
This is just a rest stop in Florida. Officials hand out suntan lotion and Jimmy Buffet albums when you cross the border. Anyone who is pale is immediately apprehended and forced to lay on the beach for half an hour (each side) until done.
The view from our hotel room in the Hilton along North Redington Beach. The line for jealous readers forms to the right.
For our own protection due to our celebrity, Dad hired a secret agent, not that the dude's conspicuous or anything.
I have a zest for life. Yes, that�s right, I�m zesting.
Next on Jeff News 9, "Dad Relaxes On Beach, Enjoys Sun And Surf." Well, yeah. What a duh headline. Tomorrow we'll see, "Jeff Goes Home Alone, Eats Wings and Pizza, Googles Naked Survivor Pictures."
Our beach in 1919. Later we went to a jazz club, danced with flappers and drank illegal booze all night.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | Thur. blog | Weekend blog | Mon. blog |
|
