Zoom-a-zoom-a-ZUMA

“What was God thinking? Why did he give boobs to people who clearly weren’t gonna use them? Like that girl in the pigtails…she’s not going do any good with them. Me! I’ll do good!”

My biggest pet peeve: People who wear their everyday, casual or premium attire, even exercise crap, into the salty, grimy, seaweed filled ocean water. Look, even I’m not proud to get down to my skivvies and prance around the beach, but seriously. My head jumps to conclusions: do you wash said clothes before you wear them again? Obviously, if you can’t afford a bathing suit, have you even a washer and dryer? Maybe you’re just lazy…then if you own said washer and dryer, do you rise to use it on occasion?

I decided to cart it to Zuma Beach in Malibu this morning with four other girls; P, Coco, Caro and Bri Cheese. In this blog, you will be meeting a lot of fun and not so fun characters and are lucky to now be introduced to four of the fantastic ones at once. P is Paige, she is my sister. Nuff said. Coco is Courtney, also my sister. ‘Notha nuff said. Caro----no she is not a fan of syrup--- she is Carolyn. And last but not least, there is Bri Cheese, not to be confused with they type of cheese known as Brie. Lovely enough, my four year old niece, Grace, assigned all of these lovely nicknames to all of these lovely girls and they seem to have stuck. Further on, I will be referring to such things as “Graceisms”.

So Zuma….a wonderful beach. Not a soul usually around, but of course, the day it is a complete white out as if it were snowing out of the sky’s ass, and the beach is flooded with clothed people, hungry seagulls, and kittens. Yes, I said kittens. One particular group is so easy to survey as they set up camp right to the left of us. At the beginning there were only about four or five people, however, they seem to keep multiplying. As they do, the outfits grow stranger as do the behaviors. Next, these people are going to pull a 3-ring circus out of their industrial size Igloo cooler. Let’s see: They’ve boogey boarded, surfed, blown monstrous sized bubbles (some of which were landing on a sweet new teenage couple as they tried to lock lips), and now are flying a six foot tall parrot kite. Bri Cheese’s face was priceless when she finally looked up from her sun-full slumber with squinty eyes and noticed a tropical bird of paradise coming far to close to our setup. Let me not forget the fact that we parked it far from Seagull Stand (Lifeguard Stand 3) as to not be bothered by the cawing of random beach going crows, and so we were able to eat our Safeway sandwiches in peace. But alas, the family value pack of Kentucky Fried Chicken, which I believe they actually brought with them from Kentucky, put off such a scent that seagulls are now swarming even to our camp, where we have a measly bag of BBQ potato chips and Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. I know, we’re hardcore.

“Is that a kitten?” Courtney guffawed. Yes, yes it was. Cute little black kitten on a leash, mind you, and it was literally this close (I’m putting up my pointer finger and thumb to show you an inch space) to getting snatched up by one of the brown seagulls. I find them to be the meanest of them all…white and gray, not so bad. Damn, I wish I brought my Alka-Seltzer. So all that aside, I am seriously waiting for a mini car to come screeching down the boardwalk with eight horrifying clowns in it. However…mmm..yes, I do wish I had a chicken thigh right about now.
Coco is desperately trying to tan her “London white skin” as she calls it. She said it’s “as if I’ve lived in a windy, rainy city all my life!” to which I said, “you did spend a lot of time in Seattle”. Caro is reading one of her many fashion mags she brought along and P…well P gets grumpy in the sun, and she didn’t like it very much when Courtney and I dangled a long seaweed with the little bulb things on it above her leg. Bri is a natural sunbunny and doesn’t mind using sunscreen, unlike us Crutcher girls. We need all the help we can get. She looks like she’s jammin’ to the iPod but occasionally starts to talk to herself, until I finally realize her music maker is actually an iPhone and she can get calls through her headphones. Eeeesh, technology these days.
The sun is finally coming out as the Fillmore/Moorpark fire smoke that looked like sky poo is passing and dude at the blanket next to us in the two sizes too small wet suit is on his last Original Recipe Drumstick. Winding down makes me want to reflect on what I have learned today.

1. Courtney likes to drink her water bottle while laying down, hence the splash of Refreshe Purified Drinking Water in her eyes.
2. Caro’s mom subscribes to a LOT of magazines.
3. Bri Cheese does NOT like tomatoes, onions, or jalepenos…all the better my sandwich was, my dear…
4. Paige’s car does not unlock with the sensor button more than a hundred feet away (This I learned because I already made the feat of walking back through the sand to the bathroom but forgot I kept my tampons in the car)
5. And finally, it is extremely hard to type when the sun continuously moves (pshaw!) and my feet keep getting fairies on them. (Graceism for: My feet are tingly and have fallen asleep)

Thank you very much for tuning in, I will now, instead of just listening to the must-be socially challenged people to the left, commence with my “Oh, look at that smoke over there!--Shit, they saw me staring again--” looks. Amen to you and your brothers where for art thou. And to Carolyn: Pigtail girl will one day need those boobs, trust me. However, you don’t. You’re beautiful as you are. Apparently, God did know what he was doing… (Cue the Full House sentimental “let’s learn a life lesson” music).

---Sidenote: I rest my case. Adheem and Marimba just walked onto the beach in full Sari garb and white linen suit. WHYYYYYYYYY?!?!?!?

Introduction to Tadpoles

Some might think that I call myself a tadpole because he is a confused little guy. Poor thing is born with no legs or arms but..they occasionally pop out. And much like myself, they don't have much direction. They just follow with the current. All of a sudden this spermy sucker has appendages flailing, then hops, croaks....even eats insects for criminy sakes. Damn, Taddy really figured out his way in life.

Think of me as a tadpole in this blog. 'Tis my first, and heck, I don't even know if I'm publishing this. (Obviously, if you're reading this, confidence struck me somewhere....so feel free to 'kudos' me at anytime). I am a tadpole in this blog, in this story, and in this life. Hopefully by, mmmm, somewhere around 80 years old, I'll finally croak.

Welcome to------------"Trials, Tribulations and Trivial Tales of a Tadpole" (Then again, maybe I chose 'tadpole' for the witty alliteration)