I believe whatever doesn't kill you simply makes you... stranger.

San Onofre, even though it's overrun with campers and Jesus-freak kid camps, is still pretty much unspoiled California coastal magic. We camped out for two days and scored really fun chest/waist high surf and met some weirdos. I highly recommend you go and enjoy what could have been in SoCal if only a bunch of greedy developers weren't in charge. It's so gorgeous and the beaches are mostly real beaches: scrub, rocks, very little sand, kelp, and waves with no one out. Lovely.

That said, camping with a six and half year old is a test of one's patience. Unless you're the drunk midget's mother, who seemed fine with all of the complaining and whining. Although those moments were rare they were intense and I guess I'm more used to camping with adults who's only whining moments come when the surf goes flat or we run out of booze and smokes. It was fun watching the midget learn about real beaches and get here hike on. Yeah, we had to hike down to the beach with boards and water and whatnot and Melah and the midget did fairly well. I of course can't sleep as the dog has trained me to wake up at the latest by 6am and walk him and now that I'm not drinking I really can't ignore him. C'est la vie. All in all it was an amazing experience and I even got to see my pal Mike who has officially quit the business of Hollywood to live near the beach with his dog and start a construction company with his dad. Nice. If only there was surf in Chad I might do the same. We also drove down to Oceanside where Melah redeemed herself by standing up on some little waves. Nice. I somehow got a sit down sized barrel on a set wave and laughed all the way to the beach.

Now, if only I could get out of here and get onto my couch and into a dry martini. D'oh! I'm still not drinking!

Peace out, bitches!