Parker: “I’m a sexual predator!”

And, guess what! He just met the cutest Belgian boy in his search for a vacay three-way!

Beer Festival in San Juan del Sur. Did not know. Not my scene. I take my lagers ice cold and in large quantities. Less flavor the better. Alcohol delivery mechanism.

Wife’s a fan of flavor. Very excited. Bought our way. Expected a tasting situation. Handed a huge pile of tickets. More than enough to find oblivion.

Expected a chance to explore a stranger’s sexuality. Was not to be that night. Infested with all-male surf tour groups. “You’re from Hawaii? Do you surf big waves?”

Stupid question asked repeatedly. Friendly. Frustrating. Second to “Oh, what do you write?”

Gay erotica, mostly.

Met a SoCal expat bartender at the microbrew bar. Kid was a prick. Too cool for school. Val transplant to Hermosa Beach. Parents financed relocation to Nica so he could “focus on surfing and brewing.” Flat brim cap. Very narrow shoulders.

Very drunk wife wanted to fight him. Settled for stiffing him on the tip. Pulled the helpful Nico bartender aside, big smile on his face when we told him not to share. Pocket the cash. Fuck that gringo.

Our friend owns a successful brewery in the South Bay. No reference for this bozo.

Pills! G strings! Throwing out huge tips because we’re rich. Some lady very upset at our chain-smoking bar side. Pointed glances and fake coughs. Been tossing tenners at staff. We can do what we want. They told her to move if she didn’t like it.

Beer fest three-way proved impossible. SJDS sausage fest. Competition too high. I don’t pay or compete for pussy. Looking forward to Playa Gigante. Solo tripper open minds ripe for plucking. lacking a protective circle of friends to chase us off.

Our hotel is very nice. Downstairs staff can definitely hear us fuck. Coy glances on our way in and out. Only awkward on their end.

Low-level codeine works wonders for a hangover. Chase it with a liter of water. I feel ten years younger.

Sunday Funday is stupid name. Pay for your wrist band, join in the anarchy. Half-naked drunken children letting loose. Too young to drink in their home country. Too naive to feel fear. Ripe and unwary.

Day drinking in the heat, stumbled onto a shuttle to the Naked Tiger Hostel. Couldn’t handle the place these days. Would have been heaven ten years ago. Now I want a clean room and ice cold a/c. Maid service. A television I won’t watch.

Shots are a bad idea. Watered down anyway. Or not tequila. Hard to tell. Definitely the wrong shade. Suck ’em down with kids half my age. Grab beers for the group. A buck a pop, I’m Mr Big Spender.

Got to creeping. Wife took the lead. Less threatening than me. Occasionally feel awkward when I’m the biggest guy in the room. Loom over hairless boys and well waxed girls. Come across as threatening. Which I am. In a different context.

Wife asked a lovely Irish lass to dinner. She’d love to. I need to make things clear. Slurring words with rounded edges.

“Okay, just so you know, it’d be a date.”

“What do you mean?”

“We want to date you.”


“Did that make it awkward?”

“Kind of.”

“Good. So what do you say? Will you date me and my wife?”

Wife chimes in with, “It’s not a sexual thing.”

“No, it totally is.”

She seemed overwhelmed, but intrigued. Said she’d think it over. Disappeared into the crowd.

Dancing with a plump Israeli girl. Grinding my hard-on against her thigh. Going well, until she started puking. Friends gathered around. Get her some water. Sit her in a corner. Look for another option. I’m a lot of things, not a rapist.

Very cute Belgian couple. Guy making eyes at me. That works. His head at my shoulder, not a hair on his shirtless torso. Adorable little girlfriend. Would fit in my pocket. The four of us could make a big sweaty stew. Group grope. No rules. Don’t be a sex coward.

“You guys are, like, swingers?”

“No, no. We’re sexual predators.”

Big laughs.

“I’m not joking.”

Your Ultimate Guide to Surf Culture!

Who owns what and whom!

Brothers Marshall are two kinky SOBs from Malibu whose eponymous clothing label celebrates eighties nostalgia and a rubbery sexuality. Name don’t ring a bell? Take a short tour here.  

Or maybe you remember when they begged Kelly Slater to “burn his surfboards.” 

Just recently, BM collaborated with Arkitip to create a one-off magazine called Backdoor. It’s a wonderful and colourful little thing that reminds me of Stab circa 2006, with notes of What Youth.

As wonderful as Backdoor is, the crowning glory is a flow chart that helps, in Trace Marshall’s words, “Us dumb surfer types to understand the wonderful world of surf culture. This thing we hold so dear is really just controlled by a handful of rich white dudes. It’s pretty funny that most of the surf companies that are such rivals are actually owned by the same corporation. Is that bad? Is that good? I don’t know but we think its funny.

What else has BM got? I was compelled to ask.

BeachGrit: Whose idea was the flow chart? 

Trace Marshall: We had it drawn on our wall with markers. We would occasionally do some research and fill in the blanks. My Filipino slave labor Steven V laid it out on his computer machine. We did cocaine for a few days and laid the mag out. It was inspiring. You can score it here. 


What is surf culture to you?

“Surf Culture” to me is an idea created by some drug smugglers in the 70s. “Surf culture” is the best way to launder drug money. But the like most drug smugglers they got too greedy (like Pablo Escobar/Scarface/the Jamaican dude from Belly) and it all collapsed around them.

What is your current mindset re: surf culture?

Oh, it’s so beat down. It’s been raped so hard. Poor thing needs a little break. It’s been getting it from every angle for some time now. Nothing is sacred. The only real thing is surfing itself. You can’t take that away from us. That’s what it’s all about.

What is the best in surf culture?

Beer, drugs, chicks, hot dudes, Christ, butts, the turbo-tunnel fin, the calf leash, Astrodeck, Angie Reno, Brothers Marshall gear.

What is the worst?

High-speed RED cam surf shots to Super 8 cutaways. Pollution and the clothes at Brothers Marshall.

How did you become such iconoclasts?

What does that mean? We are dumb surfers. You can’t use big words like this. We are just trying to bring some fun back to this world we love so much. It’s scary times. Let’s party!


Parker: “Met some chubby ripe ladies!”

Rory Parker goes to Nicaragua in search of vulnerable travellers!

Ultimate decadence. Hot and sweaty world, a/c cranked so high you can see your breath. Sleep beneath a down comforter while the outside world bakes in an equatorial sun.

We’re situated above the bustle and bustle. Balcony overlooks bar row. Stumble drunk teens on their merry way. Second floor crocodiles looking to separate the weak from the herd.

Very nice hotel. More than I expected. Exactly one floor above check-in. They can hear everything.

Relatively mellow so far.  Low energy on arrival. Eighteen hours of travel will kick your ass.

Unbridled fun at the farmacia doesn’t help with the pep. A half-dozen beers guzzled while waiting for check-in gives a temporary boost. But it’s a directionless manic energy. Better pop another Valium to get your head straight.

Out like a light for sixteen hours.

Woke up to excellent coffee. Amazing breakfast. High-speed WiFi. Included with the room. This place is a steal.

So stoked to be a grown-up.

Looking down my nose at the backpacker crowded. Packed into hostels like low-budget sardines. Breathing each others farts. Masturbating surreptitiously to the couple humping on the top bunk.

Why bother being quiet? Uninvited third-wheel menage action. Nothing wrong with that. Unfair to call someone a creep when there’s penetration three feet up.

Beer festival today!

Burgeoning micro-brew community down here. I’ll stick with the Toña. Rent a wheel barrow to cart around the wife. Met up with some chubby ripe young ladies.  Will see them there.

They smell like prey.

Dear Brazil: Obrigado very much!

American swimmer Ryan Lochte robbed at gunpoint! Forced to pay the public back for bad TV!

American swimmer Ryan Lochte is a bummer that comes around once every four years.

After London people thought his cray cray handsome cray was too hot to handle and so he got his own television show What Would Ryan Lochte Do? that might have been the worst thing to ever appear on the small screen. Let’s watch highlights!

Thankfully it failed quickly.

But there was no other punishment for him and he got to continue living without fear, without consequence.

Until he went to Brazil! Last night after his final swim event he was held up at gunpoint by robbers. Let’s read about it in The New York Times!

Four American swimmers, including the six-time gold medalist Ryan Lochte, were held up at gunpoint early Sunday morning, according to the United States Olympic Committee.

The other United States swimmers robbed, according to a statement from the committee, were Gunnar Bentz, Jack Conger and Jimmy Feigen.

“Their taxi was stopped by individuals posing as armed police officers who demanded the athletes’ money and other personal belongings,” a spokesman for the United States Olympic Committee said.

“All four athletes are safe and cooperating with authorities.”

Lochte told NBC News that one of the men put a cocked gun to his head.

“We got pulled over, in the taxi, and these guys came out with a badge, a police badge, no lights, no nothing just a police badge and they pulled us over,” Lochte said. “They pulled out their guns, they told the other swimmers to get down on the ground — they got down on the ground. I refused, I was like we didn’t do anything wrong, so — I’m not getting down on the ground.

“And then the guy pulled out his gun, he cocked it, put it to my forehead and he said, “Get down,” and I put my hands up, I was like ‘whatever.’ He took our money, he took my wallet — he left my cell phone, he left my credentials.”

“I was like whatever”…I suppose he is still living without fear. Too cool! Too sexy and I take it all back! Please gimme What Would Ryan Lochte Do II: The “Do You Feel Lucky Punk?” Years!

Global warming: Let’s surf volcanoes!

An adventure for our hot new earth!

Global warming is real and upon us. Islands are sinking, world temperatures soaring, etc. And does it scare you? Are you worried for your own future? The future of your children?

Well don’t be!

Let’s watch Alison Teal surf a volcano!

That is what the Daily Mirror headline screamed and to be very fair she didn’t actually “surf” but rather bobbed on her board near a volcano. Still, brave! And picturesque! An accurate vision of our shared future maybe even! Let’s read about it!

A daredevil adventurer has become the first person to surf the base of an erupting volcano and swim within feet of flowing lava – and she did it in a bikini.

Amazing shots of the extreme surf session show Alison Teal riding her pink surfboard up to Kilauea Volcano in Hawaii as it erupted into the ocean.

Underwater photographer Perrin James snapped the brave explorer during the volcano’s first eruption since 2011, on August 3 2016.

Alison, 30, said: “This was a lifelong dream. It was humbling and breathtaking and hot.

“I was hoping to catch a wave, however, when I got in close I was hit by a spatter of hardening rock spray and I quickly ducked under water.

“I looked back and noticed a wave was coming and I paddled for my life to get out of the danger zone.

“Afterwards I was exhilarated and exhausted at the same time.

“It was absolute endorphin high, but also terrifying.

“Anything could have happened.”