Water Parks, Wheaties, and Whole Foods – the W’s of my life……
Thank you, Whole Foods….you went ahead and ruined my perfect Saturday with your defective, brown shopping bag. I was having a great day until Maciej and I went to Whole Foods. After a dining experience at the salad bar, with an interesting oil free, tangy dressing, I purchased the following; (1) a container of black licorice to bring to Neighbor Table that night <more about black licorice later>, (2) protein bars, (3) two containers of fat free, plain yogurt. In the parking lot, the fucking brown bag bottomed out, but don’t panic. Almost all items were salvageable with the exception of one container of yogurt who sacrificed itself through the bottom of the brown bag to the asphalt parking lot Gods. Poor thing, it deserved better. (Shakes fist)…darn you Whole Foods – why can’t you screw the environment and use plastic bags????
Actually, I do not feel this way and (as most of you know) I am a champion of the environment. I have to be – Dad Van Der Wall spends his retirement days leading North Haledon’s recycling efforts. I could dedicate an entire blog entry just for Dad Van Der Wall and his favorite sayings, phrases, words of wisdom, philosophies, etc. At the Recycling Center, that my mom has termed “the Dump”, he bawls at landscapers each day and holds recycling offenders accountable for their transgressions (wonder where I got it from) all while wearing a fake, tin police badge on his chest accessorized with a police hat. No, really, he does (Exhibit A):
More about Dad Van Der Wall in a later blog – because let’s face it – he treats the bad ass landscapers as if they are Michael Vick types running illegal dog fighting rings and deserve the most relentless of penalties from the Higher Powers of the Recycling Center. Back to Whole Foods, after some empathy and Passion Fruit Tic Tacs from Maciej, we headed to Neighbor Table. I thought Kerry enjoyed black licorice (yes, I judge her for enjoying the Devil’s Jump Rope), but as it turns out I got it all wrong and she likes the black jelly beans. What’s the difference between black jelly beans and black licorice? Who knows – but Kevin decided to descend on the container as if it was his last meal. I seriously do not think his body had time to send a message to his brain that said “These are nasty, stop eating them.”
Speaking of nasty things, I’ve been asked to offer some commentary on my experience at a water park. Christopher and I recently vacationed together at the Jersey Shore and decided to experience the thrills and spills of Breakwater Beach sponsored by Dr. Pepper. Firstly, I haven’t been to a water park since I was probably 13 years old. For those of you doing the math, that is around the time when LL Cool J was just making the scene, loving vampires was not cool or mainstream, an abundant accumulation of key chains for one single key (the key to my house) was in order, and I was watching filmstrips at school on “my changing body.” Secondly, for the trip to Breakwater Beach sponsored by Trident, I did not own, what I perceived to be the proper swimwear for such a water park experience; therefore, Christopher and I headed to Kohl’s (insert heavenly gate music here) for both of our swimwear needs. The day before, Chris (and his new, skinny ass) decided it was a good idea for the innocent sunbathers at Seaside Heights to experience a full moon. I did not have the proper coverage above the equator that might be kid-friendly at Breakwater Beach sponsored by Coca-Cola. Once I arrived and observed the numerous “mommies with pasties as swimsuits”, I quickly realized that my halter top bathing suit would have been more than appropriate for Breakwater Beach sponsored by Rex’s Bar and Grill. Christopher thought I purchased a swimsuit that was A.) Exceptionally repellent in the attractiveness department. B.) Simulated an athletic Mary Lou Retton - a la the Wheaties commercial circa, post –Olympics 1984. C.) A little butch, okay a lot butch; oh God, I pierced the toast.
Thanks Chris – you just tagged me as having a fresh, perky, and girl next door personality. I can only hope that my Vandercheese blog captures the hearts of Americans (much like Mary Lou) and I can score a role in Scrooged II.
Back to the water park and my top 5 philosophical objections:
1. Skin on skin contact with strangers; Hate it, don’t look forward to it, think it’s gross and contemplated taking a bath in Purell. Bring on the chlorine – I will suffer a headache and dry, hacking cough for weeks just to make sure enough dangerous chemicals are permeating the waters…thank you Breakwater Beach, sponsored by Dansanti.
2. Fantastic – a band aid is floating in the pool! As Chris pointed out – we needed to be fearful of the floating band-aids. They all find each other – like a band-aid magnet – and form ONE BIG GIGANTOR BAND AID. Somewhere there are children and adults with open, bloody wounds – frolicking in the water. People – this is what we can SEE - imagine what we can’t see?
3. I feel like I am swimming in boogers, mucus, urine, and feces. It’s a weird sensation of having fun and being gross at the same time. Basically, a water park is a blast if by “blast’ you like swimming in a toilet. Diarrhea soaked diaper, diarrhea soaked diaper, diarrhea soaked diaper. I love summer!! Chris and I read every rule, every sign, every waiver, every map, and every directional pamphlet. We are judicial affairs and we never quit. Remember from an earlier Vandercheese blog – “hakuna matata (no worries)” – not a Swahili phrase we readily embrace. When you have to be told not to shit in the water – there is a major problem and major worries. I don’t care if a meerkat and a warthog danced their animated asses over to me – just as they did singing Hakuna Matata in Disney’s the Lion King – to convince me of there being no worries in the water park. Unless they were offering me a hygiene dip to rid me of any current infestations – they’re dead to me.
4. I constantly smelled, hot, wet, nacho cheese Doritos. Everywhere. Chris didn’t smell a thing which only solidified the “she who smelt it dealt it” theory (great). I smelled wet Doritos all over Breakwater Beach sponsored by the McRib, including at the tippy top of the ten fucking flights of stairs for the big water slide….wet, hot, Dorito smell. To be honest, maybe being here is getting worse by the minute?
5. Do not speak to the lifeguards stationed throughout the dangerous and risky Lazy River. I attempted to talk to one kid (we’ll call him Aviators) and was sadly put in my place since the Lazy River conditions were treacherous. Aviators sternly told me through a series of charade inspired hand gestures that he wasn’t permitted to speak to the guests. I couldn’t wait to make a full cycle around the Lazy River, because now it has become my mission to make Aviators speak. Sure he was just doing his job, but I had important things to discuss with him like “what’s the annual rainfall in Seaside Heights” or “how does the moon control the tides and my period at the same time” or “Team Jacob or Team Edward?” or “why is there a light in the refrigerator, but not the freezer?”
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