Dairywimple clocked in at San Onofre Surf Beach for a 2006
update. The changes for next year are as follow. In order
for the State to pave the old dirt road, it is going to budget
in the form of a Annual Pass increase to $215.00 Annual, or
$18.00 daily. Southern California Edison has allowed a 425
maximum car allowable, up from 324. Public latrines will cost
.75 a shot. For night surfers SCG&E will contract high
visibility pole lights for illumination. Haw'n Gardens will be
widened for as many as ten cars for ease and comfort when clogging
the road. All fee increases will be accepted pursuant to 12/1/05.
On the bright side, in conjunction with the NSSF SOSC BOD is sanctioning
a multi-unilateral surf squad competing in West Coast Exhibition
matches concluding in 2008.
Written by Raul Santos "Nachito" Macias
BRUCE SAVAGE SAND ASSOCIATES.
5 Comments:
“Kids, get your boards!”
“Yes, Mom!” my sister and I yelled as we ran up the beach.
“Oh, boy!” Marisa said as she slung her pink and purple board carrier over her shoulder. “Going to Uncle Tubesteak's is always so much fun!”
“Totally!” I agreed, making sure my voice was heard over the chorus of four excited flip-flops rushing back down the sand to the SUV at Dog Patch. “His stories are the best!”
“I know! Remember how he was a clown in the army?”
Marisa, you don’t get anything right. He was in the navy. Don’t you remember how he told us how boats used to be able to go over land, too?”
“Oh…yeah. What was the name of the Italian guy he captured? You know the one who had the lasers that could kill the President from another country and the spaceships that used to go around the Sun? Musselman? Muscling?”
“Mussolini,” Mom chimed in. “You know, you can’t believe everything your great-uncle tells you. The things he says about his past usually aren’t real, much less the present. Now buckle up!” She turned the key and the SUV roared to life. We were on our way up the beach's not-so-carefully preserved primative dirt road.
I looked at Marisa and rolled my eyes. “I heard about Mussolini in school,” I whispered to her. “He was on the same team as that Hitler guy.”
“Oh!” Marisa shouted, the recognition sparkling through both her eyes and her tone. “Wasn’t he the guy that Uncle Tubesteak said used to create animals with really long necks that could jump really far and breathe underwater?”
“Yeah, the giraffaroo bass!”
“I wish we still had some of those around these days. All we have now is boring ol’ zebras and lions and elephants.”
“Yeah, things were so much more funner back then.”
“More fun,” Mom interrupted to correct.
“Yes they were!” I enthusiastically agreed. “Mom, you’re old! Do you remember back then? When every house was made of gold and every store sold candy?”
“Suzie, it’s disrespectful to call people old. Don’t do it again.”
I didn’t understand what she was talking about. Uncle Tubesteak was very old and he was one of the coolest people I knew, besides Al Gee from the beach of course. I decided to look out the window.
Soon, Marisa was pulling on my sleeve. “Look, Suzie! There’s the house that used to be a castle with knights and princesses and horses! We’re almost there!”
"Mom, mom, can stop by the San Clemente pier?" Uncle Tubesteak had built a walkway to Catalina one summer when the surf was low, back in the olden days. Two winters later, a big NorWester slammed into it and now all that is left is the San Clemente pier and the landing pier at Avalon. The remains of the pier washed up on the shore of Southern California for the next 2 years. Uncle Tubesteak collected the wood and used it to build the Hotel Del Coronodo and the Del Mar Race Track for his friends, Bing Crosby and Tony Curtis.
"No, dear, we are running late. No stops." Mom replied.
"Ah mom" Marisa and I both said in unison.
Look! The laundromat!”
“Yeah! Uncle Tubesteak used to take his clothes there and get them all washed in fifteen seconds for only a penny. And they would get them way cleaner and brighter than any washing machine these days does.”
“Yeah. I know.” Marisa scowled.
Her frown quickly washed away, though, in the flood of glee that came over both of our faces as we parked by Uncle Tubesteak's house. We were out of the SUV and running towards our great-uncle even before Mom shut the engine off.
“Uncle Tubesteak!” we yelled as we reached him, wrapping our arms around his frail, but rather large, torso.
“Now, now; be careful, kids,” he cautioned us. “My body’s not what it used to be. It’s all these modern-day pollutants! Did I ever tell you about how cars used to be? They ran on grass clippings, and you could cook a three-course meal with the exhaust! And speaking of meals, did I ever tell you
about the time . . .”
CHECK GRAPHICS WHEN DOING NARRATION.
p.s. Graphics are commas, descriptions, people "say", not "ÿelled".
who gives a crap
harry - thanks for nothing
There's a frog in rectum, there's a frog!
There's a frog in rectum, there's a frog!
There's a frog in my rectum,
It'd be a shame if I eject him.
There's a frog in rectum, there's a frog!
No movement for a half hour. Gotta go sit on a mirror and check.
Later.
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