Life Is A Beach: Boobies

Yeah, the beach. Love the beach. Love sand between my toes and the water smell. I like the heat that comes with summer that comes when you start thinking about the beach. I like beach food and beach grease, beach salt, and beach fashion.

Goin’ to the beach. Goin’ to the beach.
Super day ahead, goin’ to the beach.

Pack. Always pack for the beach. Need a towel, and the sunscreen stuff, and shades, and a pail, and shovel, and a floatation device, and a book, and some backup munchies and some water, and binoculars—because going to the beach is an excursion, an adventure with nature—drowning, eating sand, walking on glass, dog piss, screaming kids—and an opportunity for personal public exposure. Gettin’ skimpy.

Gettin’ skimpy, baby. And some get wimpy, and frimpy, and frumpy, bumpy and lumpy. oi. The beach is a whole lucid bath in the human experience. Bought myself a loin cloth.

Why not? No laws. It was that or big baggy surfer dude tent pants. And no Speedo on this boy. That’s like advertising.

“Hi, yes, we all know there’s no actual, sanctioned swimming race on today, but I do enjoy prancing my Lycra swaddled woggle in a lively fashion for everyone’s shoreline eye-level reclining pleasure.”

Jerks. I am embarrassed for those guys. Maybe two seconds, and then I’m annoyed. But a loin cloth has class. In two seconds you feel like you’ve lived in one all your life. Like cowboy boots. If you wear cowboy boots for a couple days, you’ll be climbing trees in them. Though, don’t wear cowboy boots and a loin cloth to the beach. And don’t climb up trees at the beach in your cowboy boots with a loin cloth and binoculars.

The reason I decided on a loin cloth was because of my elder cousin’s reaction the first time she saw a guy in a loin cloth. We were at a family outing to the beach and we passed some guys tossing football in the park. One particularly beer-bellied participant was sporting a loin cloth. She stopped mid-route, ice chest tote in hand, and gawked. No—leered. She babbled for a bit about how this was the greatest thing a guy could wear, ever, and we gathered her a nice lawn chair with the rest of the bridesmaids. I thought it was all kind of gross. Very revealing. Even obscene in it’s jarring challenge to the traditional printed cotton bathing trunks. But as I looked around, other women were staring, too. You know those eyes, see ’em at night with a flashlight, hyenas.

Yeah, got me a loin cloth. First I need to march around the yard with it on, get into the swing. I know there’s a double flap routine happening and people have warned me that only native braves can run full tilt in a loin cloth. Well, maybe a little frizzbee.

So yeah, boobies. Great finds at the beach. Short, long, big, bouncy, tweeny, jiggly, sway, shuffle, wiggle and wag. Swim with a buddy.


Boobies © 2011 Gaboo. Read Gaboo’s latest on Are you sure you want to do that?

3 Responses to “Life Is A Beach: Boobies”
  1. Steve says:

    What an awesome idea. I’m off to find me a loincloth.

    • Gaboo says:

      A studly dude like you best dress down for the beach, wouldn’t want to read about you in the newspaper. Be careful!

  2. Steve says:

    hmmm….dress down further?…..ok…away with the loincloth then! onward!

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