Thursday, July 29, 2010

Shoobie, Doobie, Do's . . .and Don'ts

So the computer Gods have smiled on me again and - just as suddenly as my lifeline to the blogging world was severed due to signal-interruptus - the wireless network which I have been pilfering returned this morning to its unsecured state.


But the lack of signal strength yesterday forced me to go in a direction I don't normally go while here at the Jersey Shore. I went to the beach.  And though some folks may head to the beach with a metal detector, A Mom on Spin went - instead - with a Shoobie detector just so I could bring the following post to you. . .

The Rules of Beachgoing for Shoobies at the Jersey Shore

  • Footwear - As I recall, we covered this topic in yesterday's post. Sporting black socks and sneakers on the beach are the very thing that earned you this moniker in the first place and serve as an immediate red flag, alerting all other beachgoers that a Shoobie has landed.  Much better to try to sneak onto the beach unannounced donning flip-flops or the occasional sandal.
  • Beachwear - When I suggested yesterday that Shoobies should consider wearing thongs to the beach, I was referring to footwear, NOT swimwear.  All folks who travel from land-locked states to come to the Jersey Shore should be banned from wearing any form of beach regalia that boasts of a string as an integral part of the attire. And, yes, that counts for you men in your Speedos.
  • Umbrellas - Word on the sand has it that attacks by Shoobie Harpoons on innocent beachgoers are on the rise.   How many times do I have to tell you that one cannot stick an umbrella in the sand like a bartender floating a cocktail garnish in your pina colada?
  • The Sand/Land Grab - Aside from footwear, nothing screams Shoobie faster than failing to maintain the prescribed six-degrees-of-separation while on the beach.   If I wanted my extended family with me on my vacation, I would have invited them to join in the fun.  And anyway, last I checked I didn't have any long-lost relatives from . . . like . . . North Dakota.  I'm tired of spreading buffer blankets out around my stuff to prevent the dreaded Shoobie Cousin Encroachment.  I'll have enough of that when the tide changes and your fellow Shoobies  belatedly realize that what goes out, must come back in. . .
  • Beach Chairs - Various kitchen and family room chairs dragged over to the shoreline from rental property are not appropriate for use as beach chairs. Perhaps you can return that ridiculous floppy hat you purchased for a suitable place to rest your backside while on the beach.   Or - on second thought - you can sit on your hat instead.  By all accounts it appears to be cavernous enough.
  • The Dip in the Ocean - Please ensure that all bathing suits are buckled and secure prior to take off.  I am tired of trying to avert my tired eyes while you emerge from the water revealing body parts which are traditionally viewed only by your proctologist.
  • Food - Now I understand that you like to bring enough food to feed an army, because you took the trouble to employ the family mule (a.k.a. the man of the family) to haul your entire household to the beach with you, but feeding the crusts of your peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to the seagulls is strictly forbidden.  It may be good luck to have a head full of gull-crap where you spawned from, but let me assure you that your fellow beachgoers do not agree. 
  • Another Tidbit You Might Find Useful -  Life guards do not blow whistles at you because they think you look buff in your thong.  If a guard is blowing a whistle at you, chances are you're doing something incredibly stupid . . . .or lifethreatening. . . or downright Shoobie-ish.   

Oh, and if by chance you have any cold beer in that cooler, you owe two to the nearest cousin whose land you have so thoughtlessly grabbed. . .