8 Perfectly Good Reasons to Despise the Beach
Two young women with the souls of grumpy old men have a ping-pong match of negativity about the beach.
So, my friend Paige Danger Triola and I don’t really understand all the mirth about going to the beach. In fact, we’re so mystified by beach worship we staged a Google Docs powwow detailing various reasons we think the beach is hellish. For your entertainment…
Michele: No one ever asked what killed the protagonist of “Footsteps in the Sand.” I’d argue it was the sand.
Paige: Know what else sand kills? My appetite. Nothing like chewing on a Twizzler studded with rock fragments to make you forget your hunger.
Michele: Not to mention walking to the car feels like a pilgrimage to Satan. Poor, unfortunate soles!
Michele: I don’t know about you, but I prefer my water not to rise up in giant walls.
Paige: Let’s not forget the sinister threat of an undertow dragging you to a watery grave. I’m not sure I want to gamble my life for a few moments of frolic.
Michele: There is no frolic. There is only terror.
Paige: “Hey, who’s ready to get violently thrown around by freezing cold salt water? I need a break from sweating out all of my bodily fluids on this chafing towel.”
Michele: Who knew vacationing could involve my face being smashed against the ocean floor?
Paige: Clingy spandex underwear that leaves nothing to the imagination? No thanks, I’ll leave that outfit where it belongs: my nightmares.
Michele: I can’t have fun when I’m wet and nearly naked and surrounded by strangers. I just can’t.
Paige: I want to know how a skin-tight bodysuit still manages to accumulate 3 pounds of sand that pours all over the floor when you take it off.
Michele: Nothing like swimming with tasers.
Paige: At least you can avoid jellyfish when you see them approaching! Wait…nope, they’re invisible.
Michele: And if you get stung, someone has to pee on you. Where does a relationship go after that? I just don’t know.
Paige: I’ll be ready to relax on my towel — just as soon as I’ve covered every inch of exposed skin with a chemical shield so I don’t get fried by UV death rays.
Michele: USE THIS OR YOUR SKIN FALLS OFF. Waiting for a sunscreen company to market their product with the truth.
Michele: Shameless criminals.
Paige: “OK old lady, hand over the Doritos and no one gets hurt.”
Paige: Who’s up for a game of beach volleyball? It’s just like regular volleyball, except you’re barefoot and the ground is a smoldering desert plain!
Michele: How about sunbathing? It’s just like regular bathing, except with amplified melanoma risk!
Paige: Where’d the frisbee go? I was searching for it in the sky, but then I looked at the sun and now I’m blind.
Michele: This girl understands that awesome “beach hair” is the stuff of CW shows.
Paige: I have never once left the beach without looking like I’ve been wandering aimlessly in the desert for weeks. It’s not a good look — unless you’re into cracked lips, tumbleweed hair, and dead eyes.
Michele: That sounds like a GOOD day of beach hair for me. Mine loses its curl and then explodes into a shapeless hair entity.
Paige: I almost enjoy the look on men’s face when they’re scanning the premises for bikini-clad beach goddesses. I guess my seafoam-encrusted afro and haggard, sunburned grimace isn’t quite what they’re looking for.