Beach Music

I don't understand the phrase "blow this popsicle stand." I don't know about you, but I tend to associate popsicle stands with positive things - like popsicles - so why would I want to blow it? Yer, I mean, why would I want to blow out of there? Shouldn't the phrase be "go to this popsicle stand?" I vote yes. So in that spirit, in only two hours, I get to go to this popsicle stand. In my case, that means the beach.


Yeeeeeaaaaaaahhhh....beach music!

Things move a little slower down by the seaside. Tropical drink melting in my hand. I can hear the beach music right now. It's like a combination of steel drums, jaunty guitar, and 80s covers. Seriously, when you're down at the beach, why is it so completely impossible (and undesirable) to hear any song that was written after 1987? Example - I was down there for Memorial Day, and the local radio station played The Golden Girls theme song. Where else could you possibly hear that but at the beach? And what's more, me and my friend sat in the car and belted out the lyrics like it was the greatest song we had ever heard. What's that about? And when you go to the bar, it's all Def Leppard and Foreigner covers. I swear, if I walk into a beach bar or a beach club and hear "Tainted Love" one more time, well, I don't know what I'll do. But I can promise you this - it will be rash.

But in a way, you want the beach music. You want the 80s junk. It's all part of the getting away, the suspended reality -- the quintessential otherness -- of being at the beach. It's not just the waves and the sand people go for. It's the music. The beach music. THAT is the ultimate popsicle stand.