The smell of girls. Warm-water wax. Hooting
interlopers into destruction…
I’ve got a ton of cleaning work ahead of me
today. Visitors coming, gotta scrub the house top to
bottom. Can’t let anyone see the squalor. Don’t like doing it, no
sir, not one bit.
Makes me angry at my wife. How dare she leave my spearfishing
stuff strewn about? Why can’t she convince me to stop tracking in
ten pounds of sand each time I return from the beach? Laundry would
be a hell of a lot easier if she’d stop leaving bits of wax in all
my pockets.
I’m cranky, but I don’t want to be. And after this morning I
don’t really feel like writing. But I gotta.
So let’s keep it light and breezy.
Women surfers always smell good: Is it
conditioner? Lotion? Why does every surfer girl smell heavenly in
the water?
I was at Costco a while back, smelled something
heavenly. Sweet and delicious, wafting through the warehouse.
Followed my nose to the back, found a giant pile of ripe
pineapples. Had to buy two. Go home, chop ’em up. Ate until my
mouth was shredded.
I love watching people learn to surf: It’s
so amusing. Boards flying, spectacular carnage. I’ll often spend an
easy hour sipping ice water from my magically insulated mug,
enjoying the pain and hardship. I’m not laughing at them. Only
with them, I swear. We’ve all been there, the entrance fee is
stiff. Years of trying before you’re proficient. A lifetime of
struggle to actually be good.
I will often hoot annoying interlopers into
destruction, and that doesn’t come from a good place. But
the best comedy has its roots in pain, right?
Wax down, fins forward: There’s only one right
way to tie a board to your roof. Why does it seem like only a few
people know that?
I don’t like tropical wax: Warm works better.
Nice and sticky. Good grip, not too much. But the only shop in town
only stocks Sticky Bumps Tropical. So frustrating. They’re got
their own brand of wax, don’t know where it’s made. Stuff work
great, best I’ve ever used. One dollar a bar! When’s the last time
you got wax for a buck? I once let a friend borrow a board, he
smeared that Fu Wax shit all over it. Terrible, terrible. Had to
scrape it down and reapply. Which I hate doing, unless it’s a brand
new ride. Then it’s a loving application, bordering on
obsessive.
My car looks like shit: Wax covering the
upholstery, stinking of mold because I never remember to roll up
the windows. Finally put a spare tire in the thing. Waited ’til a
flat left me stranded. But it’s a calculated move.
Who’s gonna bother pulling the smash and grab on a ride that
looks like it belong to a homeless chronic? Worked well so far.
Plenty of broken glass beachfront, my tattered ride’ still
untouched.
