Tag Archives: beach

#45 The Weightroom Screamer

So you know it's good.

So you know it's good

What’s more eXtreme than lifting weights, sweating, and screaming at the same time?  If you said “nothing”, give yourself a pat on the pecks.

The Weightroom Screamer is the most intense, meaty, and vocal of all gym-going men.  Every set offers them not just the ability to push their muscles to the limit, but also a chance to show the world they have the vocal pipes of a castrati.  

And screaming bloody murder is not something they take lightly.  Most of the time, you’ll notice they utilize the “grunt-scream”, which is a hybrid noise ranging somewhere between an ejaculating bull and a dying dog.  This is chump change to them.  It’s filler. 

But the REAL scream — the one that makes everyone stare and uneasy — this is what the Weightroom Screamer lives for.  Max Weight. And they refuse to do alone.  They will undoubtably ask you for a spot, grab that weight in their greasy hands, and scream into your face like a drunk girl doing karaoke.  

Can I get a spot please?

Can I get a spot please?

Yet, it’s not all for nothing.  Their mindless screams function much like a bird’s mating call.   The shrill and uncomfortable vocals are merely a signal — letting all the ladies in the room know that he’s the strongest man in the room, and yes, he’s ovulating.

Fresh off of a gallon of Vanilla Whey Protein Shakes and a shot of “5 Hour Energy”, the WRS is ready — at any moment – to have a bench press competition, ask you “what the f**ck are YOU looking at?”, or to straight-up punch you in the face.   If you’re a female, spotting a WRS before they scream is not difficult — they’re the only one in the gym more interested in staring at their own ass over yours.

You can find the WRS at any location where free weights are found. If you live near a beach, you may find an increased ratio of WRS, as their screams hope to attract a hot bittie walking by the ocean. They feed off of lifting wrought iron, and if they even see a BoFlex or any of this other mechanical bullshit, they’re liable to scream in anger and throw a temper tantrum.
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Also Known As:  The Meathead Scream, The Weight Room Diva, Whey Warriors, That Dude At The Gym That Won’t Shut The Fuck Up, Braveheart

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Filed under beach, body, friends, guidos, gym, sports

#35 The Guido

I'm a douche bag!
Nothing says strong like a gallon of LA Looks X-Treme Hold Hair Gel loaded onto the scalp of an Italian twentysomething. Sure, the bottle says it will hold that hair in place for six hours, but…will it also be able to withstand fist fights, sea water, skank juice, and Busch Lite?

Such is the everyday battle of the Guido. Will the hair gel hold? Did I pout my lips out enough in that picture? Does this tramp have herpes?

Yet, in the family tree of skeevy, greasy-haired douchebags, the Guido is the Godfather. They are the patriarchal head of East-Coast shitbricks; with popular sects including, but not limited to: The Blowout, The Fake Tan, The Double-Popped D-Bag, The Pencil Chinstrap, and The Meathead.

Yet, while all these sub-sects can be used and utalized individually, the Guido is the sack of sorrys that holds them all. They not only embody all of these traits, but add to it a sense of VD-filled pride and unadulterated support. It’s blind nationalism, and their nation is the New Jersey Shore.

Their main objective: live each day as if it was Spring Break on Muscle Island. They do not aspire for marriage or love, but rather one-night stands and donkeypunches. And while they want money to buy new Polos and pink-striped shirts, they often lack the incentive to stay employed. Many will work as Bouncers or bartenders, since this suits their busy schedule of drinking and lifting weights.

Still confused? This piece, entitled Guido Beach should fill in any gaps of the Guido portrait:

The Guido will be predominantly of the Italian decent, possibly on steroids, and definitely be a douchebag. As a full-blooded Italian man myself, they invoke a self-loathing that would rival a German Jew. Yet, they’re not alone in this world. Their female counterpart, the Gino, will happily oggle their muscles, pound down Heinekens, and slob on some knobs like corn on the cob. Just like Mom taught ’em.

If you see a Guido, point down the road and yell, “Hey! Is that Vin Diesel?!”. When they turn to look, kick them in the nuts. This is unfortunately the only hope we have of stopping them from reproducing.
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Also Known As: The Defining Douchebag, Meat Warriors, Gigli, The Jersey Junkies, Italian Cancer, Shore Whores

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Filed under beach, douche, friends, guidos, new jersey, tans, trashy

#33 The T-Shirt In The Water Guy


“Man, it’s hot today! So I decided to head to the beach for a refreshing dip in the water with all of my clothes on. I just love to soak my body in the cool waters of the Pacific. Let the ocean fill my Jenco jeans, and the the cold waters wash over my Mickey Mouse Shirt. This is heaven, and I’m glad I’m dressed to impress.”

The above passage was an excerpt from “Wet Cotton XXL: The Diary of a T-Shirt In the Water Guy“. The publication, which has sold hundreds of copies worldwide, is hailed as the unofficial bible for all things water-resistant.

But despite being waterlogged, the T-Shirt in the Water Guy is not a weak link. They are determined beasts, ready to break conformity, and forge their own rules. Because with the T-Shirt Guy, it’s not just a “dip”, it’s a day. For the next 5 hours, his shirt will be soaked to the core. Sand will stick to every orafice like stink on a monkey.

That brief swim will cause chaffed nipples and thighs, wet car seats, and draw stares of disapproval. But it’s worth it. Because they just did their laundry AND went swimming at the same time. What did you accomplish at the beach?

Just taking a dip before my 5PM Meeting

Just taking a dip before my 5PM Meeting

They are the daredevils and bad-asses of the swimming world. They pee in their clothes (in the water), and scoff at the rule about waiting an hour after you eat to swim. In fact, many eat while they swim.

It’s largely understood that the T-Shirt in the Water Guy’s desire to stay clothed comes from a deep-seeded place. Many tend to be larger individuals; some may be embarrassed by their moobs (man boobs). However, in many countries, the notion of swimming fully clothed is a normal one. Here, the T-Shirt in the Water Guy reigns supreme.

You can find the T-Shirt in the Water Guy at your local beach, floating around in the pool, or showering at home fully-clothed. Now while certain members may cross over, it’s important to note that for the most part, T-Shirt Water Guys are NOT part of the “never nude” camp. You may also notice that Hippies really enjoy swimming while dressed.

If you see a T-Shirt in the Water Guy, I recommend you give them a high five, or slap their ass good-sportsmanship-like. It’s important to encourage their behavior. Otherwise, they’ll just stay at home and spray the hose on themselves.

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Filed under beach, body, clothes, idiot accessories, tans

#22 The Sandal Sock Guy

Look at those tighty whiteys
In a world where socks are for shoes and sandals are for bare-feet, one socially inept man struggles to bridge the gap. This is the Sandal Sock Guy. And god damnit, he’s going to fit that flipflop over his knee-highs if it’s the last thing he does.

The Sandal Sock Guy is the “never nude” of footware. And in the realm of foot fashion, he is the retard king. He makes the conscious choice to take a comfortable sandal and turn it into a battle of cotton vs. leather. In fact, he’s more than willing to endure some hardcore toe-chaffing to maintain that style.

Sure, they look like idiots. But the Sandal Sock lacks total self-awareness. It’s not that they don’t care, they’re too old to care. And if you’ve learned anything from The Bucket List, there’s nothing worse than an old man set in his ways. That’s the way he put on that sandal, and that’s the way it’s going to stay.

Where am I?The Scale of Sandal Sock Superiority was created by the German’s in 1966, and it’s based on a weighted scale ranging from -73 to 0. A man’s rank depends solely on the footwear they sock-rock. The Teva velcro fashion will put you at the low end (-70), Birkenstock leather style will keep you in the midrange (-35), and the standard flip flop, or the “Plastic V”, will get you the highest rank (-1). A full vacation sock-rocking the V can get you some serious street cred, and in certain German villages, can make you royalty.

You can expect to see the Sandal Sock Guy near or at the beach. He will undeniably be an elderly man on vacation, or “on holiday” as he might call it. The older the man, the higher his tube socks will be jacked up. And he will more than likely have all of these: a map, a fanny pack, clip-on sunglasses, and a look of bewilderment.

If you see a Sandal Sock, and he stops to ask you directions, do one of two things: a) If he’s 40-63 years old, regardless of where he’s trying to go, give him directions to the nearest shoe store, or b) If he’s over 63, just point him towards the beach. He’s made it this far, and you might kill the old bastard if you confuse him any more.
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Also Known As: The Old Man Camel Toe, The Sandal Battle, The Cotton Sleigh Ride, Teva Toes, That Idiot Wearing Socks and Sandals

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Filed under clothes, idiot accessories, IdiotPantsParty, old people