Where am I now?

Venice...
Buuuuuuuut, not Italy. I can only dream of being in Italy right now. Although, I guess it's not very economically sound to be situated in Europe right now... that whole Greece thing is a sensitive topic.

Alas, I am in Venice, Fla. where the median age is 62 and the mean is 64 and 3 months. The speed limit is 25 almost everywhere, but it peaks at 45 on the main drag.
The main drag, to clarify, consists of a nail salon and various "sweet" shops and beachwear boutiques. Apparently retirement is all that it's cracked out to be. Can't. Wait.
But by the time my "retirement" rolls around, my 401(k) will be, well, probably nonexistent, and social security will be dried up.
Baby boomers... God love 'em.

But guess who forgot the cord for her camera?
Yeah, this dumbass.

So here's a lovely map from Google Images that shows exactly where I am right now!
See me? I'm in the red.

So we're on the gulf.

I don't think I swam through any oil.

After 20 years of dealing with skin the color of milk, you'd think I wouldn't go outside unless I had a thick coating of sunscreen on every inch of my bare skin; every year, however, I seem to forget the painful repercussions of my uncovered flesh and its exposure to the sun. Every. Year.

So I have a sunburn. And it's gross and painful. My skin feels like it does when I rip off Band-Aids. But this was a giant Band-Aid, and it covered my whole body. Now it's gone and I'm red. Showers are painful and they shouldn't be.

Not to mention I look like the Coppertone baby.

If you want to further experience how I feel today, set your body on fire. Then call me.

You'll see what I'm saying. I guess SPF 100 wasn't good enough. That shit will come back to haunt me in my 40s, I know it.

This shit will barely get me through the end of May. Why am I cursed with this skin?