Demonstrations Lack Caress

Listened to this all summer long.  I prefer the acoustic version. 

Random Acts of Grindness

These are my new favorites!  It's a 2/1 and super stretchy.  I'm sure guys spend a lot of time watching girls adjust their bikinis, but I'd never noticed how every girl in the lineup is tugging at some part of her bathing suit before, during, or after every wave.  There's nothing worse than ruining a wave because you have to stop what you're doing to yank up your bottoms.  And keeping boobs under wraps...

I was a little worried about the C/T factor, but didn't have any problems.  Well no one seemed to be staring or pointing at my crotch, so I think your lady lumps should be fine. The elastic around the legs prevents it from riding up too much.  Since they're really stretchy, I'd order a size or two down.  I have a flat hiney and these made it look flatter, so if you're always worrying about how huge your ass looks in a bikini, this wetsuit will help.

Do not use the external key pocket.  One night I stayed out past dark to watch the moon come up and was goofing around in the shorebreak and lost my key.  I was out in CA and didn't really know anyone's number.  I really didn't know how to get to anyone's house, either.  I wondered why I rode stupid 50-pound boards.  But, everything turned out okay because one of the seven people that I knew happened to walk by and rescue me.

Drums, please!

"Summer always feels endless until it suddenly ends. For kids, there is no greater tragedy than summer’s end. September is the Monday of months. . . The last drive home has a special melancholy. The roads and landscapes that had grown so familiar slip past for the last time, turning into memories before your eyes."

Jeff Scher's animated farewell


And so you don't get too sad:

Rock 'n roll needs

more kickass piano and backup singers.



(The live version of this song didn't sound so hot. The lag stops after a bit.)

It's labor day, so I've devoted my day to various labors of love. Raging tendinitis in my shoulder and knee is also keeping me off of the tiny waves. My apologies for not updating this blog all summer.

Boy Afraid

Of birthdays! Morrissey had one this week. Shouldn't he be knighted soon? I would say that other than Neil Young, Morrissey is the one other musician I need to see in concert before I die. His tickets are just always so expensive. And no one ever wants to go with me. And if I had to go see him by myself I would probably o.d. on melancholy.

I have some updates to make and by writing this it means that I WILL update tomorrow. No excuses. I'm hoping last night's five cans of Red Bull wear off by then. My topics will include: Mask, Separation Anxiety, and I forgot. It should be pretty awesome. I know I'm pumped about it.

Party Balls

Not sure what made me think of these the other day, but they were such an essential part of underage drinking and summertime. They make me think of how Lisa and I tried to finish one with six of her brother's (college!!) friends. I think it worked out to 14 beers a person and we were pretty sure we could handle that??? Uhm, no, we could not. Peeing behind catamarans. Almost getting busted by the cops at The Point. Doling out handjobs on the car ride to Wildwood. My first dry-humping experience.

**There really was no pun intended in the title. Serio. And I hate when people say no pun intended because of the ignorance it implies, but it was absolutely necessary.**
-photo from ddeanarene's flickr.

And There's a Chance that Things'll Get Weird

Yeah that's a possibility...



The 90's were so great. I want 120 Minutes to come back in its original form, but you really can't pass this kind of video off as being artsy anymore. Right now I'm just patiently waiting because I know they will reunite.

Adirondick Chairs: Why?

Remember that gin-soaked summer spent on the Cape when you gorged yourself on lobster rolls and wore madras everyday? Of course you do, because you are reminded of it every time you see your Adirondick chair. Except that you never had these memories because you were never there, but you let this piece of "furniture" suggest otherwise.

I really want to take an ax to all of these stupid chairs. Why would you choose to sit on hard wooden slats? You might as well just sit on the ground since you look just as graceful trying to get in and out of these uncomfortable pieces of crap. And you always see pictures of them on the beach, which is misleading because you'd have to rent a crane and a dually to get them there because they weigh a ton and don't fold up!

*photo courtesy of plasticlumberyard.com! I can't even talk about that right now.

Clark Little

From the Guardian.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/gallery/2009/feb/27/clark-little-photograph-waves?picture=343885006

Paddling Out

When I first got to NJ I had to immediately go for a surf at the end of my street. It was kind of weird paddling out at first. I was getting the stinkeye from the aggro guy who lives off the island but still claims local status. He is always muttering about the summer people. I can see his point, but at the same time, I'd been swimming at this beach in utero; so I feel like I have more of a bond with it than he does. Territorial pissings aside, I was so happy to see Kris in the lineup. We laughed, shot the shizzy, and snaked each other all afternoon. The local commuter still huffed and puffed but it didn't bother me anymore.

When I left NJ I had to check the waves one last time. It was kind of bittersweet, since my mom had sold the house and it's now being torn down, and I figured it was the last time I'd be at the one place that remained a constant throughout my somewhat rootless life.

It'd been a cold (water temp-wise), windy summer. I'd had to wear a fullsuit almost every day. I wanted to go for one last surf, but the gray sky and sea suggested my time would be better-spent elsewhere. And then Kris waved to me from the water. He got out and came up to the stairs at 109 and convinced me to come out for one last surf.

I pulled my wetsuit on and paddled out. Nodding at the 110 Surf Club guy, I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at his friend, the angry local commuter. (Of course he had to be there.) Kris immediately turned to me and said he was getting out. "What? You just made me paddle out! You can't leave now." "Okay," he said, "I guess I can stay out for a few more." The four of us traded waves for the next hour. Kris and I joked and talked about some things that had been weighing on him lately. We split a tiny peak and rode it all the way in. We decided it was time to get out. I started walking toward the stairs at 109 and saw Kris walking to 110. He turned, waved, and yelled "See ya later!", knowing that I was leaving for Florida. We didn't need to hug, or even acknowledge that it'd be a while before we got to hang out again. He was the kind of friend that you just knew you'd see again.

But then I didn't get to see him again. I was back three weeks later for his memorial paddleout at the same beach. It's been six months and writing this isn't any easier. I'm glad we had that last surf. I'm glad he stayed for more than just a few waves. I tell myself I'm glad I didn't hug him goodbye; in some ways it's better to know that we left in a way that left an opening for another meeting? And sadly enough, part of me is glad that I won't be on my street this summer, checking the waves, scanning the lineup for the curly blonde head that won't be there.

It's Been Six Months

I figured at some point I would feel like writing this, but I still don't. I keep waiting for some angle, some perspective that will wrap this all up in a cute little bow that will somehow help make sense of everything. That hasn't happened, but I'm afraid I'll forget things while awaiting enlightenment.

Last summer, I'd get a call from Kris around 8 every morning. The conversation never deviated from the following:
K: You check it? [I lived right by the "surfing only" beach]
Me: Yes.
K: How is it?
Me: It sucks.
K: Really? How big is it?
Me: It's small.
K: Like, uh, unrideable small?
Me: Yes. But it's loggable.
K: So are ya gonna go out?
Me: Yeah.
K: Okay, well I'm gonna go check it anyway.
Me: Okay. Why do you always call me if you don't believe me?
K: Huh? I gotta go. I'm probably just going to go surf 30th street.
Me: Okay. Bye.

I'm sure that half of the island had a conversation like this with Kris every morning, too.

No matter how long I dilly-dallied before making it to the beach, Kris and I would always get there at the same time. This may or may not have been because he had probably already driven up and checked it and left three times before I got there, but I never asked because I really didn't want to know the truth.

He loved his Hurley 4/3, and he loved his waterproof camera. I remember one day, surfing with him and John, and there were huge schools of gray, nondescript fish everywhere. (I believe they were "bunker"-no offense if that is the official fish of NJ.) They basically looked like large sardines, without the silver. Kind of like the one type of fish that you wouldn't waste time taking pictures of. But not Kris, he was sooo excited to take pictures of those ugly fish. He probably would have made some kind of collage with those pictures this winter. And he would have been extremely excited about it. And he would have called everyone at random times to tell them about it.

I wish he'd call me for my bogus surf report.

(I think I got this pic from Brad G's fb.)

Happy VD.

So I thought I would take this time, as I'm sipping my cocktail and steeling myself for a night out that will be fun without any underlying sense of desperation, to reflect on my VD experiences. I decided that I'd give my readers a little Valentine's day humor to help them through this wonderful holiday.

The reason why I have bad VD karma:

I had a boy in 9th grade decide to bring a dozen longstems to school on VD to give me after we had been going out for 2 weeks. He used "love" on the card. I dumped him the next day and he started crying infront of everyone in the cafeteria. I cannot wait until he finds me on facebook.

The most pathetic VD I had was when I worked at this restaurant. I was bartending and for some reason a lot of men decided that a boat/sports-themed restaurant would be a great place for a romantic couple's dinner. I got out at 2 a.m. and promptly headed for Fourth Meal. When I got up to the window, the drive thru lady said that my double decker supreme had been paid for by the man in the car infront of me. He had pulled slightly ahead and was I guess waiting to meet the Taco Bell customer of his dreams. I waved in his car's general direction and sped the f#*k off.

But the absolute WORST VD was when my boyfriend showed up two hours late, drunk and/or stoned, took me to a restaurant, and when the check came told me that he only had $20 and that I'd have to pick up the rest. And I kept dating him!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, as you can see, my hopes for tonight are decidedly low.

Nice TIMing

Thought this was a cool pic taken by a cool guy.

He made a funny.

The most (only) rewarding part of my job is when I can laugh at/with my students. But there is one student who never laughs. He has Asperger's (often classified as a form of autism). So while he's a walking dictionary, he doesn't "get" how to interact with others. He's socially awkward, but he desperately wants a girlfriend.

He has a lot of anxiety, and he often yells and slams his books around when he is stressed. Any time I ask everyone to hand in homework, or assign it, he freaks. Since I'm rather softspoken and am put off by any sort of tempramental outbursts, his behavior is unsettling to me. I always make sure I go over everything with him, and he always calms down once I explain the change in his routine. It's hard not to adore him, knowing that his family didn't know what to do with him and stuck him in a school for non-native English speakers because he was so withdrawn. He wasn't properly diagnosed until last year. Being a teenager is hard enough, I can't imagine what it's been like for him.

I love that he's incapable of lying and he refreshingly lacks the ability to suck up to me. He doesn't understand sarcasm, so some of my best material is lost on him. (Oddly enough, sarcasm is classified as corporal punishment, which is legal in my state, but illegal in my school district. I think it's a form of humor that encourages a higher form of thinking, and keeps me from having to repeat directions 7million times.)

So yesterday he actually laughed. A real, genuine laugh. First time. I had asked everyone to take out a piece of paper and a pen for their test and to put everything else on the floor. He took his paper and pen and put them under his chair. I braced myself for the impending outburst, but he started laughing. He said, "well you said to take everything off the desk!" I gave everyone that sits at his table the you'd-better-laugh-and-make-this-kid-feel-accepted-for-a-split-second look, and they forced out some giggles. Since I don't think he understands disingenuousness, I think it was the right thing to do. Maybe it's not so bad to only see others as comletely sincere.

Tools with small tools weekend.

It's super car weekend! This means that the idiots will be out in full force tonight. I will have to join them. Pics are from i7's photobucket, and that one cracks me up.

Funny Obama Stuff

Thanks, Lawless!

This also cracked me up. The Mariner is so pissed.

Open Hizzy

So someone handed me the walkie talkie and I handed it off to someone else (duh). I guess the volume was turned all the way up. So when someone started talking on it, it scared everyone in the non-airconditioned cafeteria, especially my partner who was so startled that she dropped it and her flag. Which wouldn't have been a big deal, if the flag didn't actually consist of a yard stick with a huge piece of cardboard attached to it. I started laughing.

Then we had a really cool "producer" talk to the parents. He had a Led Zeppelin tattoo on his forearm. He must not be aware of a thing called imdb.com, which verified that he was lying about all of his credentials.

So that was my Sunday.

Back to the Grizzind.

The first week back at school was pretty brutal. I was operating on about 4 hours of sleep per night due to my unhealthy approach to holiday break. There were also some mildly amusing things that happened at work:

1) Staff meeting--semi-stable teacher sits down next to me with a gold gift bag. I joke to my other friend that it's probably full of drugs. So then, I have to look in it. It's filled with a banana and every kind of diet pill under the sun. She spends the meeting devoting equal time to sketching her wedding dress for her pending nuptials, and getting up randomly while people are talking so that she can use a computer.

2) We are having Open House tours today, so we had another meeting to figure out how to corral 600 parents and then give them a tour. About 4 buildings make up our campus. Each member of the math department was drawing maps (to scale) and was fretting over how we were going to walk from one building to the next. Then we were informed that we'd have walkie talkies. Chaos broke out.

3) Some famous writer/producer showed up at school in his yellow Lambo. Taking up two parking spots, of course. Looked like a total slob and gave me the creeps. I will add more, as I'm sure this story will develop.

Not much else is going on. I took it easy this weekend and stayed in both nights. Went surfing on Friday night and Saturday afternoon.

2008: Fail.

Happy New Year! Sorry I couldn't post over my looong vacation, but I was too busy watching "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" on hulu.com.

I decided that I would make a resolution this year: no artists in '09. That lasted about thirty minutes past midnight. But, in my defense, it was a guy I dated three years ago. So that wasn't a new artist. I am not a complete failure.

I wrapped up '08 with a nice sunset session on the log. I just wanted to relax on the little waves all by myself. Maybe talk to Kris. Make some decisions about leaving Margaritaville. But nooooo, this stupid SUP'er kept back paddling me. Now, there are many problems with SUP'ers, but what really frosted me what that he made so much noise. It was really quiet, no one else was out, I was enjoying the solitude, and here he is splashing all around with his oar and falling off his board even though it was almost flat.

Then I almost stayed in, but my neighbors' fireworks display ensured that I wouldn't be able to sleep, so I went to a party. I gave the host a bottle of champagne. Then I walked around looking for other opened bottles, saw none, went back and grabbed my gift and started drinking it. Classy. I'd say the high point was that one of my friends had the Valentino heels that I've been coveting for weeks. Also, at the end of the night they played Lil Wayne's "Mrs. Officer." Luckily I was too drunk to find my phone and drunk-dial Carey.

Does anyone else feel that getting group text messages about holidays is more insulting than getting no text at all?

Work: Not a very auspicious start

Class began after break and I grabbed one of the dry erase erasers and started fiddling with it while I talked to the kids. Noticing I got marker flakes all over my hands I had the brilliant idea to use the dry erase spray to get the junk off of my hands. So then that turned into my hands turning black and I had to somehow play it off like nothing was wrong.

Oh, and our principal went on sabbatical for the rest of the year. Which is odd, b/c I really don't know what research he's doing.