I’ve got a whole mod surfer vibe going down today and I’m expecting Eric Von Zipper and his gang of leather-clad ne’er-do-wells to moto through my door any minute now. Since finding myself accidentally dressed as a muscle beach delinquent (and on a 75 degree day, no less), I’ve decided to give in and bring home a new “beach bag”–lucite, appropriately themed and the perfect size for fitting bumming essentials–that I’ve been checking out for a couple of days.

Because me on a beach is an eating/sleeping blob of paste, I don’t really need anything larger–if absolutely necessary I could probably manage to stuff some salacious mass market paperback in there and be set for the day. Luckily enough I vacation in Ocean City, Maryland, so people-watching has the entertainment part locked up.