Let it go, let it go, let it go...
Now playing: Cowboy Mouth - Jenny Says
Just when did 80s music suddenly become so hip? And how did I miss the memo? I guess this is probably happening in conjunction with stripes in men's shirts coming back, here I am with a closet full of solids. Lovely. Perhaps it's just a beach thing, but from the stage at the Windjammer at the Isle of Palms SOUTH Carolina (thanks for the heads-up, Skip, duh.), all the beautiful babies _loved_ the cover band playing, to the tune of getting up on stage and hanging on the guys of Weird Science (who even dressed the part, with a longhaired guitarist to the sweatshirt and tied-off bandanna lead singer, to the white-blazer-and-shades bassist.) I do have to say that they werte pretty spot-on with most of the covers, with the guys switching crooning duties to sing different styles of whatever song they were doing.
Saturday brought weather that was completely unaccomodating for any type of beach activities. Indeed the whole of the nation enjoyed a bright, sunny day, save the area immediately surrounding Charleston, SC. Lovely. We spent the day enjoying a late breakfast (barely making the 2pm service cutoff), driving back over the connector bridge to downtown Charleston, taking in some of the rainy historical landmarks, wardriving a bit to get e-mail and google maps for navigational purposes, then lunch and drinks on Shem's Creek (sp?), an aborted attempt to find a strip club that was open at 6pm (all but one dive opened at 8, pity), lively debate regarding dinner plans for the evening turn into a completely spontaneous decision to attend a local charity fish fry. As the resident city boy, this is my first such event, and I have to say, it was an experience. Pity there were no photos, although no photos could adequately capture the rankness of the band playing. Pink Floyd at a fish fry? Really guys, gotta know your audience...
Post fish fry, wander into the 'jammer to scope out the scene, we take in the aforementioned retro band, and meet two lovely creatures in the form of Brenda and T...crap...Tamara? No, that's not right...it'll come to me...anyway, we get to chatting these two up, and it appears that they're there with dates who they seem to kinda like, but aren't crazy about. They proceed to throw Skip and Lin(!) and I some vibe in varying degrees, (they would whisper to one another constantly, and when I told them that every time their heads approached one another, I thought (and hoped) that they were going to make out...they both tittered at this idea, but both said it wouldn't ever happen, then got all huggy and touchy with me, yay) and we, out of some kind of misplaced respect for these guys we don't know, just kind of sat back and watched, taking in the situation. Now I am generally as laid-back as laid-back gets, but for some reason, something about these two just motivated me to take some kind of action. My plan was to suggest that we all hang out tomorrow, Sunday, then give them some numbers, or get theirs...that way they'd be free to do whatever with their dates, and it gives everyone a chance to back out gracefully, if they so choose; in fact, I say just that to both of them individually. As the evening wears on, I'm pondering my approach (I've decided to put a bug in B's ear about getting in touch), she wanders off to find T. The thought briefly crosses my mind that maybe I should duck afterher and make my move, but I don't want to appear too stalkerly, so I hang back, waiting for another opportunity. You see where this is going, right? Some time goes by, and we start to notice their dates walking by now and then, sans the girls. We conference a bit, and decide that the girls have ditched their dates! Alas, this means that the proverbial boat has sailed for us, too, but at least they were able to give their less-than-ideal dates the slip. I think the moral here is clearly that no good deed goes unpunished, and if the opportunity presents itself for one to mack (as the kids say) on designated receptive flirty hotties, one should always strive to do just that. Perhaps subtly, but definitely in such a way that said hotties will be able to find you once they've ditched their primary date(s).
Tricia! That was the blonde's name...whew, that would have bothered me forever. Kinda like all the 80s songs that came on, and knowing the titles and artists, even for some of the one-hitters. It was actually somewhat frightening, mainly because I knew who they were, but also for not being able to get some of the easy ones, perhaps due to...well, I dunno, but there must have been a reason...the Romantics, ("What I Like About You") for chrissakes! How could I not remember that? I knew they were both wrong, but I kept wanting to say the Ramones, and/or the Replacements...sheesh.
As you might have ascertained from the link above, the Windjammer is pretty much THE place for island/beach event on the Isle of Palms. They've got some webcams where you can check out the goings-on on stage, on the deck, on the dace floor/bar area, sand volleyball action, or even the surf conditions, but more importantly, beach means bikinis, and we were fortunate enough to be there on a day when the Budweiser Bikini Bash was scheduled. Unfortunately, due to other opportunities intervening, we ended up missed the contest. However, here are some representative photos of this year's contests gone by, an indication of what we missed:
They don't seem to have the photos from the contest on the 26th that we could have been in the crowd for, but hopefully they'll be up soon. I take some solace that in missing the contest, I got more action than everyone at the contest for the duration combined. (If that makes sense...) Apparently though, this is an annual thing, and they're seem to be OK about documenting it, as the photo journal of events past can be found here
Even beyond the bikini contest, the women at the beach and on the island as a whole, damnation! Two separate examples come to mind. The first, as we arrive on the island, we trek down the beach, take in the sights, and end up at Coconut Joe's rooftop bar. While we're ordering drinks, these two women (say 21-22, one much cuter than the other - olive-skinned and extremely exotic-looking, wearing a ramones t-shirt and a short loose jean skirt,) sidle up to the bar. As the less cute one orders them drinks, jean skirt and I make eye contact. She smiles and sticks her hands in her pockets. Naturally, my eyes are drawn downward, in time to see that her hands have been pocketed with enough enthusiasm that I'm now privy to the fact that she shaves. Crikey! It's going to be a good trip! Two days later, at the 'jammer, another lithe bronzed vixen is walking around the deck in a bikini top and (again) loose khaki shorts. Only in between her tugging them up, we're treated to just the slightest tease of what appears to be a flame tattoo peeking out from the area of the mons venus. Why do they torture us so? Most of midday Monday is spent lounging on the beach in obvious lecher mode, digicam blazing. A couple/few will be posted when I get aorund to downloading them from the TiBook.
At the various watering holes, I resist the urge to dine on previously legged meats, (somewhat unsuccessfully, I consumed not one, but two steaks while there) choosing instead to sample the divine seafood for which the east coast is known. I'm told that stone crabs are a local showcase delicacy, but alas, they're only in season during months featuring an "r", and they tell me June isn't one of those months. pity. Many varieties of fish are consumed, along with shrimp and conch fritters, various types of crab and lobster dip, and several pounds of fresh (allegedly just caught that morning) jumbo (21-25) shrimp. Yum.
In the year or so since relocating to the Carolinas, I'd hardly seen anything. In the space of eight or nine days, I've finally managed to at least visit the "High Country" of the Appalachians and visited the marshy "Low Country" coast. The irony in the return trip was, of course, that after we'd been rained out Saturday, we did finally get to enjoy two days of nearly unencumbered sunshine (I'm quite pink at the moment), only to drive home through and to what was possibly among the heaviest rainfall I've ever experienced.
More exploration is called for...
Just when did 80s music suddenly become so hip? And how did I miss the memo? I guess this is probably happening in conjunction with stripes in men's shirts coming back, here I am with a closet full of solids. Lovely. Perhaps it's just a beach thing, but from the stage at the Windjammer at the Isle of Palms SOUTH Carolina (thanks for the heads-up, Skip, duh.), all the beautiful babies _loved_ the cover band playing, to the tune of getting up on stage and hanging on the guys of Weird Science (who even dressed the part, with a longhaired guitarist to the sweatshirt and tied-off bandanna lead singer, to the white-blazer-and-shades bassist.) I do have to say that they werte pretty spot-on with most of the covers, with the guys switching crooning duties to sing different styles of whatever song they were doing.
Saturday brought weather that was completely unaccomodating for any type of beach activities. Indeed the whole of the nation enjoyed a bright, sunny day, save the area immediately surrounding Charleston, SC. Lovely. We spent the day enjoying a late breakfast (barely making the 2pm service cutoff), driving back over the connector bridge to downtown Charleston, taking in some of the rainy historical landmarks, wardriving a bit to get e-mail and google maps for navigational purposes, then lunch and drinks on Shem's Creek (sp?), an aborted attempt to find a strip club that was open at 6pm (all but one dive opened at 8, pity), lively debate regarding dinner plans for the evening turn into a completely spontaneous decision to attend a local charity fish fry. As the resident city boy, this is my first such event, and I have to say, it was an experience. Pity there were no photos, although no photos could adequately capture the rankness of the band playing. Pink Floyd at a fish fry? Really guys, gotta know your audience...
Post fish fry, wander into the 'jammer to scope out the scene, we take in the aforementioned retro band, and meet two lovely creatures in the form of Brenda and T...crap...Tamara? No, that's not right...it'll come to me...anyway, we get to chatting these two up, and it appears that they're there with dates who they seem to kinda like, but aren't crazy about. They proceed to throw Skip and Lin(!) and I some vibe in varying degrees, (they would whisper to one another constantly, and when I told them that every time their heads approached one another, I thought (and hoped) that they were going to make out...they both tittered at this idea, but both said it wouldn't ever happen, then got all huggy and touchy with me, yay) and we, out of some kind of misplaced respect for these guys we don't know, just kind of sat back and watched, taking in the situation. Now I am generally as laid-back as laid-back gets, but for some reason, something about these two just motivated me to take some kind of action. My plan was to suggest that we all hang out tomorrow, Sunday, then give them some numbers, or get theirs...that way they'd be free to do whatever with their dates, and it gives everyone a chance to back out gracefully, if they so choose; in fact, I say just that to both of them individually. As the evening wears on, I'm pondering my approach (I've decided to put a bug in B's ear about getting in touch), she wanders off to find T. The thought briefly crosses my mind that maybe I should duck afterher and make my move, but I don't want to appear too stalkerly, so I hang back, waiting for another opportunity. You see where this is going, right? Some time goes by, and we start to notice their dates walking by now and then, sans the girls. We conference a bit, and decide that the girls have ditched their dates! Alas, this means that the proverbial boat has sailed for us, too, but at least they were able to give their less-than-ideal dates the slip. I think the moral here is clearly that no good deed goes unpunished, and if the opportunity presents itself for one to mack (as the kids say) on designated receptive flirty hotties, one should always strive to do just that. Perhaps subtly, but definitely in such a way that said hotties will be able to find you once they've ditched their primary date(s).
Tricia! That was the blonde's name...whew, that would have bothered me forever. Kinda like all the 80s songs that came on, and knowing the titles and artists, even for some of the one-hitters. It was actually somewhat frightening, mainly because I knew who they were, but also for not being able to get some of the easy ones, perhaps due to...well, I dunno, but there must have been a reason...the Romantics, ("What I Like About You") for chrissakes! How could I not remember that? I knew they were both wrong, but I kept wanting to say the Ramones, and/or the Replacements...sheesh.
As you might have ascertained from the link above, the Windjammer is pretty much THE place for island/beach event on the Isle of Palms. They've got some webcams where you can check out the goings-on on stage, on the deck, on the dace floor/bar area, sand volleyball action, or even the surf conditions, but more importantly, beach means bikinis, and we were fortunate enough to be there on a day when the Budweiser Bikini Bash was scheduled. Unfortunately, due to other opportunities intervening, we ended up missed the contest. However, here are some representative photos of this year's contests gone by, an indication of what we missed:
They don't seem to have the photos from the contest on the 26th that we could have been in the crowd for, but hopefully they'll be up soon. I take some solace that in missing the contest, I got more action than everyone at the contest for the duration combined. (If that makes sense...) Apparently though, this is an annual thing, and they're seem to be OK about documenting it, as the photo journal of events past can be found here
Even beyond the bikini contest, the women at the beach and on the island as a whole, damnation! Two separate examples come to mind. The first, as we arrive on the island, we trek down the beach, take in the sights, and end up at Coconut Joe's rooftop bar. While we're ordering drinks, these two women (say 21-22, one much cuter than the other - olive-skinned and extremely exotic-looking, wearing a ramones t-shirt and a short loose jean skirt,) sidle up to the bar. As the less cute one orders them drinks, jean skirt and I make eye contact. She smiles and sticks her hands in her pockets. Naturally, my eyes are drawn downward, in time to see that her hands have been pocketed with enough enthusiasm that I'm now privy to the fact that she shaves. Crikey! It's going to be a good trip! Two days later, at the 'jammer, another lithe bronzed vixen is walking around the deck in a bikini top and (again) loose khaki shorts. Only in between her tugging them up, we're treated to just the slightest tease of what appears to be a flame tattoo peeking out from the area of the mons venus. Why do they torture us so? Most of midday Monday is spent lounging on the beach in obvious lecher mode, digicam blazing. A couple/few will be posted when I get aorund to downloading them from the TiBook.
At the various watering holes, I resist the urge to dine on previously legged meats, (somewhat unsuccessfully, I consumed not one, but two steaks while there) choosing instead to sample the divine seafood for which the east coast is known. I'm told that stone crabs are a local showcase delicacy, but alas, they're only in season during months featuring an "r", and they tell me June isn't one of those months. pity. Many varieties of fish are consumed, along with shrimp and conch fritters, various types of crab and lobster dip, and several pounds of fresh (allegedly just caught that morning) jumbo (21-25) shrimp. Yum.
In the year or so since relocating to the Carolinas, I'd hardly seen anything. In the space of eight or nine days, I've finally managed to at least visit the "High Country" of the Appalachians and visited the marshy "Low Country" coast. The irony in the return trip was, of course, that after we'd been rained out Saturday, we did finally get to enjoy two days of nearly unencumbered sunshine (I'm quite pink at the moment), only to drive home through and to what was possibly among the heaviest rainfall I've ever experienced.
More exploration is called for...
posted by Gene at 4:31 AM
3 comments
