San Diego = Paradise

San Diego's Pacific Beach may be the most amazing place in the Galaxy.

That's a bold statement considering I'm not sure what lies beyond our solar system.

But as far as Earth goes, there can be no place better.

For starters, this small stretch of Pacific Coast could be the home of the most prolific gene pool in North America. The dudes are fit, tan and totally money (I am secure enough in my manhood to openly make this observation).

As for the women, they are world class.

I have been to New York, Los Angeles, Las Vegas, Miami Beach, Chicago, Dallas, Denver, Atlanta ... you name it. But I have never been to a place where every single woman was an 8 or above.

In my recent trip here last week, it became a game to find an ugly woman. After seven hours of drinking on the beach, we had seen two.

No bench warmers. No scrubs. The women of San Diego are kind of like the 1992 U. S. Dream Team whose bench warmers were future Hall of Famers Scottie Pippen, Chris Mullin and Karl Malone.
Shockingly, you couldn't even find the token ugly/fat girl that is frequently a part of the female herd, the one who is there to make the other women feel better about their apperanace.

No. San Diego is World Class.

The thing is, the people at San Diego's Pacific Beach exhibit an auroa of confidence I have seen very few places, except for here in The Hollywood of the East Coast. Everyone San Diegoan knows they are fucking beautiful.

And they seem to be really pumped up about it. But they don't care to judge you strictly on appeance, a quality that makes this place even more unbelievable.

Let's not forget, the surfing. Or the people sauntering onto the packed beach with 30-pack Budweiser suitcases on a picturesque, sunny, summer Saturday afternoon in July.

Did I mention the surfing?

San Diego is by far the most underated city in the U.S. They don't have an NBA or NHL franchise, but they don't need one.

They have rolling hills, sunshine, beaches, ideal weather and beautiful bodies, beautiful souls. And great bars.

What else could one ask for?