Confession: I was at a very fine birthday party last evening, chatting with a surf industry luminary, and neither of us could remember which males were on The Irukandjis save Julian Wilson!

https://www.youtube.com/wat…

23jul/08aug

it’s hard to attend luminary birthdays and be of the people, no?

Dave sits at the table he set up directly next to the fridge that acts as his desk whenever he makes the trek into the Santa Monica office, which he’s been doing more of to log some “real facetime” as boss Erik Logan likes to say. Really, he comes in to handle whatever stupid menial task Erik wants him to do that he easily could’ve done for himself but doesn’t want to because he wants to pretend like his big shot title “CEO” means anything. Today he came to the office for a meeting about setting up an Excel spreadsheet for “marketing ideas,” with columns for the idea, the person who suggested the idea, names of potential people to use in advertisements on the site for the idea, and a rough cost estimate (always based on nothing) for the idea. He opens the fridge door and pulls out a Jambon-Beurre sandwich inexplicably oozing with yellow mustard (Market Pantry branded to save money) when his phone rings.
It’s the Commish, or whatever her title is. “Hey, Jessi, what is up?”
“Hellorh? *chchcchchch* Hellorh? *chchchch* Am I supposed *crchchch* this meeting?” she blurts out.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch all that. I think you were asking whether you need to be in on the meeting?”
“Yea *crhchcehcrhch* my connect *crhchcrh* the West, mate? *chcrrhchrhch*”
“It’s fine, we’re just talking about marketing stuff, so you don’t need to be on. I can send you notes from the meeting if that is something you’d want?”
“*Crhrhcrhrhrh* I *curuchrhrgcyr*” she tries to say as the phone cuts out.
Pantala Naga Pampa blasts out, Dave’s phone vibrating.
“Hey, we got disconnected…”
“Is that bettah?” asks Jessi.
“Yes, perfect.”
“Cool. Just found a spot in a gumtree that has good reception.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Not really. Anyway, am I needed on this meeting?”
“No, that’s what I was trying to say earlier, you don’t have to be. It’s just marketing. I can send you the notes if you want?”
“Shhhore, I would appreciate it.”
“Alright, cool.”
“OK, I gotta get going,” Jessi says amidst a commotion of weird panting and buzzing noises.
“OK, b…” Dave attempts to say as Jessi hangs up.
Just as he gets off the phone, Erik walks in, hair all stiff, seemingly from salt water, and face lightly reddened over his developing carmel hobo tan.
“Prodie?”
“I’m in here,” calls out Dave.
Erik walks over to the kitchenette, his satchel with several patches all over, including a prominent COEXIST one, hanging over his shoulder.
“Hey, this can’t be long. I’ve got a meeting with some other people,” pants Erik.
“Who?”
“Oh, several people. Important people. I’m going to be meeting them at the beach.”
“OK.”
“So, did you set up that table I wanted?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Thanks a million!”
“It literally took me 58 seconds.”
“But it saves me time, which is exponentially valuable!” raves Erik.
“I guess. Are we going to talk about actual ideas?” asks Dave.
“Um, sure. I think we should start promoting the Olympics stuff, don’t you?”
“That is an idea, I guess. What should we focus on?”
“We should make different ads for each our different target markets, like the U.S., Brazil, Europe, Australia…”
“OK, but we have yet to figure that out. Marketing to specific sectors, dynamic ads, that sort of stuff hasn’t been done.”
“Well, we’re going to have to figure it out. Dirk is breathing down my neck and we need to make the league saleable…”
“He said that?”
“Not so much, at least not in those words, but I think so. I don’t talk to him very much, he’s always talking to Starkey.”
“Oh, so that’s why you’re so burnt then, you figure to ride this out and surf as much as possible…”
“NO! Well, yes, but I will land on my feet… anyway, how do we market Australian Olympians?”
“The jellyfish thing…”
“Who is on the team, again? Steph, Sal, Julian, and…”
“Crap, who is it?” Dave thinks aloud.
“Owen!”
“Oh, right…”
“Hehe, I see what you did there,” squeals Erik.
Dave looks at him like he’s a dumbass.
“Too bad Tyler isn’t on the team. We can market the shit out of her!” yells Erik.
“And it would bolster our woke bonafides,” he continues.
“Yeah…”
“Oh, shoot! I got to go now!” exclaims Erik.
“OK.”
“Finish up that table adding my idea and try to cost it.” Erik looks at his watch, “Darn! Ashton won’t want to wait! I really gotta go!”
“OK.”
Erik heads out and stops in the doorway.
“Hey, um, who were you on the phone with before I came in?” he asks.
“Oh, um, Jessi?”
“Oh… do you think she’s going to work out?”
“Yeah, she’s great.”
“No, I mean as a character?”
“Why not?”
“No reason. I just miss Patches… especially the nickname. Can’t really call Jessi anything not offensive… oh well,” says Erik, who opens the door and slinks out.
Dave quickly types Erik’s idea into the spreadsheet, which he thinks is stupid, and wraps his 1/4 eaten sandwich in tin foil. He stuffs it in his bag thinking that it will be a good snack for the long road home and walks out the door.

I feel like Julian is just going to be Dadly in the Water. Just happy to be there. Not one care there to compete. Refusing to exit the line-up at the sound of the horn, knowing his day will get less good once he leaves. It’s gonna be a slaughter in front of his daughter.

“Or is it stuck in a deep, dark Burrow?”
are you suggesting Australia’s olympic hopes ride squarely on the shoulders of taj making a comeback? win at Rottnest leads to wildcard for surf ranch and onto a world title at trestles? is it mathmatically possible? taj v kelly in an olympic final. What a story!

What is truly shameful is a professional writer making such a glaring grammatical error in the TITLE of the story: “Neither of us could not remember…”. WTF? Remember the old adage ‘a double negative equals a positive’? ‘Neither of us COULD remember…’.