As a general rule, we do not take trips to the beach. This may prompt you to ask us, “Then why wear thong bikinis and Speedos to work every day, Wexley?” And we would humbly respond, “Would you drape a towel over a Van Gogh?” And you would have no response. Then we would decide to celebrate your defeat with a trip to the beach. You would then be thinking of new questions like, “You said you didn’t take trips to the beach. What’s up with that, Wexley?” And we would explain to you that we avoid the beach for obvious reasons, like sand, and water, and how they mix together and create sexy little smudges of dirt on our upper thighs that money-grubbing mermaids would shamelessly photograph and sell online. And the mermaid rush would cause the ocean to lower half an inch and lead scientists to think we reversed global warming. And then they would want to have sex with our minds. And the crazy jealous mermaids would fight the scientists for our attention, not knowing we have purposefully avoided mermaids ever since the last one we hung out with broke into our sperm bank and stole our genetics. But as we said, this is a “general” rule, meaning we “generally” don’t go to the beach. But we also “generally” don’t take this much out of our beach time to have hypothetical conversations with people who aren’t even attractive. So anyway, we took a trip to the beach last Friday, and a collection of Puerto Rican sharks wearing leather chaps began a water performance of  West Side Story. So we climbed off our sand castle constructed entirely of white sand imported from the Phong Nha-Ke Bang National Park and showed those sharks how real men perform musicals. And our prize for best performance was a collection of all the pearls from the ocean floor. But we hate pearls, because they cover up our awesome clavicles. And that’s why we don’t take trips to the beach.

Well, while we were thinking about whether or not we would go to AdBash, Seattle’s premier advertising party, a certain amount of awesome fell into our collective laps. We noticed a discrepancy on the invitation: it reads, “$40 at the door (unless you’re smokin’ hot).”

Well, Adbash, thank you very much. Wexley is smokin’ hot so we are guessing we will be comped! Totally free. So we’ll see you there. We’ll walk right in. We’ll pay for booze or whatever, unless that’s free for hot people too. We’ll mingle and have to brush off the ugly people. We’ll all probably make out in the corner with ourselves. Then we will all probably throw up sometime late in the night and go home and watch Ice Road Truckers on the History Channel. But thank you in advance for letting the agency in for free. You rock, Adbash!

Wexley.