Observations in Miniature: A Day at the Beach (Thanks Dave)

If you see yourself amongst these people at the beach it might be time to change your beach going ways.

Redneck Dad – Nice tan lines in the outline of a wife beater tank top. Do you mind paying attention to something other than the Nascar race on your portable television? Junior is out in the ocean floating in a cooler. Yep, there he goes over the horizon. No, Budweiser is not a food group. You must have been born without taste buds because that stuff tastes like the sweat rung out of a swami’s turban. Are you a science experiment gone bad? Because if I’m not mistaken you’re pregnant. You’re sitting in a lawn chair using your gut as a table with that 36 inch ham sub spread out on it. Oops, you dropped an olive in your belly button. And I beg of you when you finally do work your way up out of that industrial strength lawn chair pull up your fucking cut off blue jean shorts. The last thing I want to see is the plumber’s crack of what is perhaps the flattest ass I’ve ever seen in my life.

Wrinkled Sun Queen - It’s good you talked because you’re skin is so brown and wrinkled I thought you were a piece of drift wood and almost threw you on my fire. I’m sure you were something back before you baked yours skin like the crust of a tuna noodle casserole but now you look like the stick my dog just retrieved so stop winking at me. Do you really need that tin foil tanning thing under your neck? A Seagull flying overhead just dropped a pile of liquid shit on it and it went up in a poof of smoke when it hit. What do you think that thing is doing to your face? That’s it, smoke up, have another Virginia Slim, if you don’t get skin cancer you can always try for lung cancer. Everyone needs goals. No, I won’t rub tanning accelerator on your back. You’re skin is as dry as a prehistoric toilet paper and an errant ash from your cigarette might set you ablaze. And for God’s sake please stop fiddling with your bathing suit top I just caught a glimpse of one of your shriveled up tits and to my chagrin it looked like an over microwaved sweet potato.

Foreign Guy – Do you think your wife and daughters might be getting a little warm in those wool burkas? It’s about 90 degrees on the beach. Is that smoke coming out from under your wife’s burka? Is she smoking herring under there or has she begun to spontaneously combust? You’re a sadistic bastard foreign guy. You sit there and leer at women in bikinis while the females in your family sweat like Rush Limbaugh in a pastry shop. If they happen to glance at a guy in a bathing suit you curse under your breath in some language that sounds like a wounded dolphin begging for squid. What just fell out of your scraggily beard? Is that a Playgirl magazine? Because over here men that treat women like shit we generally suspect of hating them and of having some self loathing complex because of their repressed homosexuality. I’ve got an idea. If you don’t like the idea of women having the same rights as you go back to the sand box from which you were sprung. Really, we won’t miss you or your body odor. If you want to stay then move your fucking towel. You’re blocking my view of the hot babe in the thong and here’s a stick of deodorant. Get it? Got it? Good.


Big Lady Little Bikini - Okay, back up slowly and drop the slices of pizza. That’s it one at a time. Slowly. Keep your hands away from you mouth. That’s it. How did you get past beach security mam? I’m going to have to insist you bury yourself up to your neck in the sand. Yes, it’s the law. You’re so big that when you lie on your beach towel it looks like a washcloth. Is that a hard pretzel stuck between your rolls? Where is that little kid that was near you when you sat down? Do you hear those muffled cries for help? Dear God I hope you didn’t sit on him. Did a hermit crab take up residents in the cave that is your belly button? Because if I’m not mistaken I just saw an eyeball staring up at me from down there. You might not want to roll in the sand like that, it’s going to get stuck in your creases, get compacted, and when your toweling down a few years from now glassware might fall out. The next time you come to the beach please wear something a bit more sensible like a muumuu or a horse blanket with a head hole cut in it. I respect your desire to frolic in the sand and sun but could you move out of the way? I’m trying to see the ocean.


Lady Thong - Thong a long a ding dong. Yes, you are defying gravity. Newton is up in heaven with a boner. No, I can’t get up off my stomach at the moment…I have a cramp in my back? I dropped my wallet could you pick it up? Damn, I dropped it again. And again. And again…Let’s skip the small talk. How much will it cost me to remove your thong with my tongue? Ouch. Yes, you do hit hard. Your swimsuit isn’t constructed of enough material to make an eye patch for a squirrel. No, I’m not complaining. In fact I might trim a little off the sides if I were you. Are those breasts real? Because if you remove the nipples they'd look like something you might buy at a Tupperware party. No, I’m not complaining in fact I have an extensive Tupperware collection at home…hmm, this makes me look at Tupperware in a whole new light. I respect your desire to frolic in the sand and sun now could you please move directly in front of me? I don’t give a shit about the ocean.

Bermuda Beach Geezer - Hawaiian shirt, Bermuda shorts, Panama hat, slip on canvas geezer shoes, oversized blinder sunglasses, zinc oxide on nose, and black socks. Are you afraid that the sun will play connect the dots with your liver spots and turn you the shade of tobacco spit? For God’s sake take some off that thrift shop attire. Whoa, wait a minute put that shirt back on. You look like a plucked chicken that tried to take up weightlifting. Could you put out that five cent dog turd you’re trying to pass off as a cigar? The smoke from that thing just made a flock of seagulls drop from the sky. What the fuck do you think you’re going to find with that thirty foot long metal detector? Land mines? Napoleon’s Rolex? The Holy Grail? For God’s sake put that thing away it makes you look desperate. You’re eighty years old, enjoy your final days. I’m quite sure that with your pension, social security, 401 k, and veterans benefits you will be able to play all the golf you want and hit all the all-you-can-eat buffets you want before you run out of money and time. That’s it, toss that metal detector into the ocean. Don’t worry I’m pretty sure it’s biodegradable.