hang ten pappas

chris’s exploits in san diego are making me want to pick up and leave for the wes-coas. i’ve always wanted to learn to surf, but i have a few requirements. first, it must be part of a music-backed montage cutting from clips of me hopping up to a balanced position from flat on the board to clips of me missing waves looking disappointed, to me finally catching one and looking “stoked”. also, my teacher has to be lori petty. or at least a guy who has a haircut like hers circa 1991. all my east coast sins would be forgiven, and i would finally lose the respectability that’s plagued me for as long as i can remember.