Too Much GQ

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July 20, 2011 by Manny Wordsmith

There’s a beach somewhere in this world that I need to be at.

I’m not positive what prompted me to make that statement. It might be the Pandora station that’s played a healthy dose of Jack Johnson, Colbie Caillat and Bob Marley for the last hour. Or it could just be my instinctive need to travel in the summer, something I haven’t been able to do.

I can’t even swim. Well I can, but not well. If someone needed to be saved, I’d probably be the last person to hop in the lake, pool, giant martini glass, etc. It’s more of the feel and atmosphere of a beach I like. But not just any community watering hole, I’m looking for more of an adult-only spot that serves frozen alcoholic beverages that makes the blazing heat nonexistent. The kind of place where the wind and waves are in sync and you forget about that homework or that project at work that’s due. I need a cove where restaurants crowd the edges of the beach, fighting for my attention by signaling their shot specials with bells and air horns. There aren’t many places in Michigan that have beaches with bars or beaches where fat kids with ice cream cones are turned away from.

It’s a lot to ask for I know.

“Why can’t you just go to the beach like regular people?” My brother exclaims.

I chuckle as I turn another page of my GQ magazine, and answer back.

“Because they don’t have Mai Tai’s at Stoney Creek or a day care side of the lake for the children to be locked up in.”

“Really bro?”

“It’s like going to a watery zoo with no cages! Water balloons flying everywhere, clumsy games of ultimate frisbee…one game of soccer with a couple of teens can turn a regular night into Karate Kid. I’m not looking to be roundhouse kicked in the stomach by Johnny again…not again!”

My brother usually flicks me off and walks away before I can get to my awesome Karate Kid reference, but I think he gets the point.

I go to the beach to forget that I’m at a beach. Now you can call me rude, old, pretentious, but I’m correct. Every one wants to party in a spot that feels like a Mexican coast without the bad water, the cartel or jail time. Ok maybe not a Mexican coast. But you wanna go someplace different, I know it! You just don’t have a blog to write in to tell everyone and Twitter can only allow so many characters. So I suggest you just agree with me and and follow me to something great! Just in my mind though. Because I’m way too poor to afford to go to anything I’m describing. Pinkies up bitches. Peace.


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