FKS Field Trip: Tha Muthaphuckkin’ Beach, Part II
I forgot my camera this trip, so all photographic recollections come courtesy of Google Images! Because rights protection is for pussies! Let’s see what else there is to admire out on the lovely coast of Delaware! Yeah, fucking Delaware!
-Gay Man in Thong (not pictured for obvious reasons)
Rehoboth Beach in Delaware is famous for two things: gay men and taffy. Makes sense. Both require an awful lot of pulling. The man I saw at the beach was sporting a Canadian Grape Smuggler and had a perfectly even tan across his legs, back, and buttocks. It was actually kind of impressive. This also means the guy must have had one of those really cute t-back tan lines. I’d eat sushi off of that!
The beach had a surprising number of fat people this year. I don’t get this. If you’re fat, isn’t the beach the absolute last place you want to go? It’s hot. Hermit crabs can nestle into your folds. Children might try and skip rocks off of you. How long do you think it takes someone like this to apply sunscreen? Do they start immediately after sunset? There’s a Grotto Pizza mere yards away, tubbies. There you can spend your day engaged in a veritable orgy of cheesy, doughy delights. I also saw at least three fat women who were all sporting mysterious thigh bruises. Are all fat people hemophiliacs?
-Happy Drunk People
Next to Rehoboth is Dewey Beach, where college students and young professionals go to get drunk and accidentally knock up a sharemate. “Does this make you feel old?” Mrs. Drew asked. And the answer to that question is, of course, “Good Lord, Mr. Brain and I need scotch!” We both felt old because we couldn’t get loaded. Yet the desire was there. And the desire to get inappropriately drunk and shit your bed is what will keep us all young. Mrs. Drew said she noticed younger guys walking by me and looking at me with that, “Oh fuck, you have a kid? Sorry, Dude” look. Don’t feel sorry for me, man! I still rock! Don’t I? Don’t I? Please, tell me I haven’t stopped rocking. I don’t rock? Fuck.
I like girly drinks. I’m not ashamed to say it. They taste like candy! And sometimes you get a pineapple wedge! In fact, the girlier, the better. I’ll take the strawberry banana pina colada margarita daiquiri with the penis-shaped straw, please. Note to all girly drink orderers: never get the pre-mixed drinks. Your frozen margarita has less alcohol in it than an O’Douls brewed in Utah. You need the margarita on the rocks. Or the rum runner. Ah, the rum runner. So fruity. So delicious. And so very, very feminine. I could slurp you down all night long, big boy!
-Odd Ice Cream
We walked the boardwalk and got some kickass ice cream. But there were two flavors on the menu at the Ice Cream Store that really stood out: Bacon and Barbecue. That’s right. Someone makes bacon ice cream. And someone pays money to eat that bacon ice cream. I assume they spoon hollandaise sauce on top of it. I’m also assuming the person who buys this enjoys eating their pancakes and sausage on a stick. See, fat people? See what your missing out on when you go to the beach? There’s ice cream with barbecue sauce and hog fat in it!
When my dad puts on sunblock, he squirts a bunch onto his hand and slaps it onto his chest. He doesn’t even bother rubbing it in. Thus he ends up getting sunburned all over, except for a giant white handprint in the middle of his body. I always miss at least one or two areas of my body when putting on sunblock, which is how I end up with third degree burns on the bottom half of my earlobe. I also cannot apply sunscreen or bug spray without getting a generous portion of it in my mouth and eyes. The burning pain lets you know it’s working!
And with that, I’m off for more beach adventures. It’s a full week vacation for me. Back with all new bits on July 10. Happy 4th. In the meantime, enjoy this kid breaking his leg on a trampoline.