Saturday, August 28, 2010

Business or Pleasure?


The Lifeguard took a ride, to Ogunquit, Maine, to enjoy a tanning opportunity in the waning days of this New England summer.

The sun was bright, the air temperature was close to 80 degrees, and the beach was crowded. The Lifeguard did a brief talent-check, and found things to be seriously lacking.

Three observations from the Lifeguard's beach towel.

First, if you are over the age of sixteen, you probably should not wear a bikini (unless you make a living by appearing on the pages of Vogue (or Playboy)). The Lifeguard noted exactly one (that's right, one) woman who had the figure to pull off her bathing suit choice. Wait, bad choice of words. One woman who could actually wear the bikini without looking like a tramp (or a fucking retard).

Now, face it, bikinis are nice; but, The Lifeguard prefers one-piece bathing suits. (Are you paying attention, ladies?) Not only are they sexy, they leave something to the imagination. (And, The Lifeguard has one hell of an imagination.)

Second, men (with the possible exception of Michael Phelps at the Olympics) should never wear a Speedo. Ever. Especially if you are fat, forty, and French-Canadian.

Finally, tattoos on fifty-something women Remember that, ladies. That tramp stamp that looks good at twenty will look like a UPC symbol when you are fifty. Especially if you are a sun-worshiper, and your skin has taken on the colour (and texture) of fine Corinthian leather.

All right, ladies and gentlemen, The Lifeguard is going sailing.


Sunday, August 22, 2010


Stupid Is As Stupid Does...

The Lifeguard is never at a loss for words. Of course, blazing stupidity causes an occasional moment of silence; but, then, he recovers. (And has a lot to say.)

Several years ago, The Lifeguard was in Nashville, Tennessee (for business, of course) and he was sitting in the hotel bar. There, off in a corner, was a karaoke machine (not unlike the ones found in bad Japanese movies) and a very drunk woman clutching the microphone like a crack whore clutches her pipe.

"I want to shing you a shong that remindsh me of thish wunnerful city," she said with a drunken lilt.

The music started...

...and she sang, "Walking in Memphis."

Which reminds The Lifeguard of a former client (and heroin addict) who gets liquored up in his local, then proceeds to slam his (rental) car into a telephone pole (just avoiding the local marked police cruiser).

Approached by the officer, the dazed (and very intoxicated) client stumbles to the back of the car and leans on the trunk, which has sprung open in the crash. Thinking it is latched, he stands and the trunk pops open. All the way open.

Their eyes meet, then turn to the trunk, and the gym bag containing 454 individually packaged hits of heroin, and his works.

Before the officer could say anything (or the client could say, "How did that get in there?"), he utters those immortal words, "I know what you are thinking. It's all mine."

Then, the officer uttered the other immortal words, "You have the right to remain silent."

Thursday, August 19, 2010


In the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, it is possible to get extra time to take the written portion of one's driving test if you read slowly (or can not read).

In a state where driving a car is a blood sport (with unreasonably high automobile insurance rates), it seems that this is one of the most ill-conceived feel-good plans ever. Really, do we want a (possibly illegal) driver trying to negotiate 128 (at 80 mph, in a Toyota Corolla POS) while trying to read road signs?

This is reason number thirty why illegal immigrants (and the faint-of-heart) should not be allowed to operate a motor vehicle in the Bay State.

It also troubles The Lifeguard that a person with no licence can own and insure a car. The Lifeguard understands the rationale for the aged; but, for others? It's motherhumping insane.

But, then again, Massachusetts is the home of the late Senator Edward M. Kennedy. And that's all that needs to be said.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Things to do at work...

...When You Are Bored At Work...

The Lifeguard was waxing nostalgic this morning, thinking of a life way less ordinary.

Some thoughts from the deep, dark recesses of The Lifeguard's soul. (The names have been changed--but not by much--to protect the innocent...or the unwilling.)

Being funny is like hitting a 325 yard drive or a 95 mph fastball. If one tries to hard, the likelihood of a spectacular whiff or a long, loud out is virtually assured. That having been said, The Lifeguard's attempts at 325 yard drives and 95 mph fastballs are pretty fucking hilarious.

There is a reggae song about Barack Obama. Like his presidency, it has a beat that is, at first, catchy. Then, it just gets downright annoying. "Move to Switzerland" annoying. At no point do the lyrics mention his illegal alien aunt, his absent father, his "typical white" grandmother, single-payer health care, or the Reverend Jeremiah Wright. Listening to the song made The Lifeguard dumber. It also made The Lifeguard want to kill whitey.

Why is there Black Entertainment Television? Do they play slasher movies and provide an opportunity for the viewer to scream, "Don't go in there, he got a knife!" (Judging by The Lifeguard's recent trip to the movies, he thinks not.) Shouldn't there be White Entertainment Television? (The Sundance Channel doesn't count.)

Saving someone's life should earn a thank you, or a pat on the back, not a gun in the face. (Thank Christ it was a .25 and not something in the .30s or .40s.) In defence of The Lifeguard's crazy-ass client, heavy-duty anti-psychotics were involved.

And, if an employer can't legally hire illegal immigrants, why is said employer not allowed to ask a suspected illegal for his papers, especially since federal statute requires the holder of a green card to have it in their possession? Why does our legal system allow said illegal to sue his employer?

Which brings The Lifeguard to border security in general. Why not just shoot them as they come across? And, the United States government wants to build a fence on the southern border. Why not the northern border, too? Fucking frostbacks.

A half dozen years ago, The Lifeguard could have had a Social Security card, a birth certificate, and a driving licence in under an hour. I presume that if a white guy in the 'burbs could do it, an immigrant can as well. Target the purveyors of the phony papers and enforce the laws, as written.

Of course, that requires resolve.

Finally, The Lifeguard is reminded of a friend who dips Skoal. His wife, after years of hectoring him to quit, said, "Fine, if you want to die a slow, painful death, go right ahead." His reply? "I already said, 'I do.'"

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Ripples on the Water

The Lifeguard Speaks

It is hard to believe, but The Lifeguard is frequently annoyed (and amused) by the actions and words of the world around.

The driver of the Prius, for instance, who had a "Somewhere in Kenya, a village is missing its idiot" bumper sticker, caused a good eleven minutes of mirth. That said Prius was on a Boston street made it all the more delicious.

A bag of airline peanuts bearing the warning, "Processed in a facility that processes peanuts" is just plain stupid. From where The Lifeguard sits, the deal with peanut allergies is this: If a person with said allergy can't look at a packet, marked "peanuts" and know that this is an item to be avoided, then said person might just need to go into anaphylactic shock (and, if they survive, be sterilised).

A bar with a sign out front that says, "Shot and a Beer, $2.00" is an oasis for The Lifeguard. Especially when in the company of a beautiful woman (or six).

Flight attendants who are obese and rude are rather annoying. Not only is air travel a service industry, it is a (generally) poorly managed enterprise, at that. That being said, why not hire folks who are polite, cheerful, and in shape. (The Lifeguard does not want to rely upon a nasty blimp to evacuate the airplane. And, if that is how The Lifeguard is going to leave this life, he wants to be looking at a hot chick, not an ugly, miserable fuck.)

And, please tell The Lifeguard why he can't buy his own beer and carry it on the plane. He'll drink responsibly.