Avoid the Southern New Jersey Beaches at All Costs Part 3

by the Juice


Finally, gettin’ to the good stuff! There’s nothin’ worse than an idiot who just drones on and on. It’s like porno. Who needs all that talkin’? All that actin’? Maybe you puritanical “couples” out there need a reason justify the sin of watchin’ a porno. Like the lord really cares you’re watchin’ people goin at it. The big guy’s probably got better things to do. My preference? I luvs the compilations. Mr. Tweed's Mouth Lovers 15 or No Holes Barred pt 3245. No worn out fast forward button there. Just like that soda company says… “only the best stuff on earth.”

For the stupid out there, I’m gonna tell the story as best I can. Then I’ll offer my comments. This probably won’t all be done in one post. Like that’s a surprise. I told you about Monday here . On Tuesday, it rained all dang day. No lie. All day. On Wednesday we went back to the beach. To make up for starin’ at each other the day before, we had stay at the beach all day on Wednesday. Believe you me, it was as painful as you can imagine. Nothin’ but chasin’ Lucifer around. The kid can not be contained. If I didn’t know any better, I swear that kid was doin’ some sort of baby version of coke. It’s probably in fun, chewable tablets of the latest cartoon stars like Petey from Dragon Tales.

Now, the Juice didn’t exclusively chase the lil tike around. The missus did shoulder half the responsibility. Still, there are 3 other beings out there that have this penchant for callin’ “daddy” incessantly. So, it wasn’t like the Juice was ever off duty. No starin’ at bikini-clad asses for the Juice. No sir!

After a gloriously tirin' day at the beach, what do you do next? Rest? Take a snooze? Sit on the couch and watch some TV? Shut the fuck up for 5 seconds? You normal folks might do that kinda stuff, but the Brockman’s head back for more painful adventures in….TADA…Ocean City. OC should have a tagline like: Ocean City: The driest fuck town! Or Ocean City: We like your money! But good like finding a drink you sorry bastards!

Before we step foot one on the boardwalk, Sara gets pooped on by a seagull. I didn’t know it at the time, but this was God’s way of foreshadowin’. What can the Juice say? It’s not like I got better than “D’s” in English. In any case, I gotta hand it to Sara. She handled it like a champ. No tears, no cryin’, nothin’. She was probably to stunned to do anything, but the doesn’t matter. We all know, there ain’t many things worse than bein’ pooped on. Especially by those varmits named "seagulls". The missus took her to the bathroom and cleaned her up. When they came back I told Sara to look on the bright side and gave her a piece of advice. I told her at least it didn’t crap in her hair, right? That sucks. My advice: never, NEVER keep your mouth open when lookin’ up. That kinda advice is just priceless. You don’t learn that shit in school.

That kinda reminds me of the story that happened last year. Remember that whale that beached itself on the coast of Japan or China or some place like that? The whale was so dang big, they had to haul the dead carcass on a flat bed trailer. Anyway, as the flat bed is travelin’ thru the tiny streets of some crowded backwater Chinese town (turns out that not all backwater towns are located in the ol’ US of A) the whale explodes! Somethin’ about the pressure of all the gases and the heat and whatever, I ain’t no scientician. Tell me, though, how much would this suck: you’re standin’ on the street, watchin’ what you think is a parade. “Where the hell Mickey Mouse anyway?” you think to yourself. All the sudden, this thing explodes, sendin' all sorts of decomposed whale nastiness all over. Yea, the bites. And how much more would this suck: you’re standin’ on the street, watchin’ what you think is a parade, wonderin’ where the hell Mickey Mouse when all the sudden this thing explodes, sendin' all sorts of decomposed whale nastiness all over and YOU HAD YOUR FUCKING MOUTH OPEN?

Back to the boardwalk…After the shit incident, “We” decided to eat at Mack and Manco’s. For those that don't know, it's a pizza place. The pizza there ain't bad. Now, I ain’t killin’ anybody if they suddenly up and closed, like a buddy of mine would. I tell ya, my buddy, let’s just call’im Beat N. Down, would probably shit his pants on the spot if he found out Mack and Manco was closin’. Then again, he’d probably shit his pants on the spot if he couldn’t buy his favorite brand of BBQ Sauce. And I ain’t sayin’ the dudes got weak bowels. I’m kinda sayin’ the dude’s got a bit OCD in ‘im. Now, I don’t subscribe to the Mack and Manco newsletter, but I enjoy it nonetheless.

As good as the pizza might be, the dinin’ situation sucks. There’s like 5 counter seats. Then, they crammed as many tables as they can into an 8 x 8 section. Oh, and no air conditionin'. Nice. Who’d want air conditionin’ when it’s a zillion degrees out? There goes the Juice again. Makin’ too much sense.

With all that bein’ said, the line to sit and eat at Mack and Manco was clear to the other side of the boardwalk. No stretchers here folks. I repeat, the line was to the other side of the boardwalk! One more time? No? Ok… The take out window was just as long. Here’s another word problem for ya. You’ve got a wife, four kids (idiot) that want to eat like it was yesterday. But, the lines are out the wahzoo…What do you do? I know. I know. You think the answer is run til you hit the other ocean, change your name, buy a new identity and live the rest of your days as a Norwegian Velcro tester. I'd probably say the same thing. See, you didn’t get the right info out of the question. I have the same problem with word problems. I fuckin’ hate word problems. The real answer to the question is: You eat next store at the Promenade.

Next: The dirty hole that is the Promenade…