Below, you will find the much-anticipated, long-awaited, Memorial Day weekend spent in OCMD photo epic. It's not a regular story, nor is it a short story, it's an EPIC. Why? The last two pictures and the story that accompanies them make this a photo epic. Read on and see for yourself:
|Rob and Dan are friends, word.|
|When you need some space to primp, take over a laundry room.|
|I could say I rarely make this face, but I'd be lying.|
|Not 25 or 27, and don't you forget it.|
|Yum, stay away from the soft shell.|
|A true wilderness girl takes pictures with her prey before she consumes it.|
|Pepsi is in no way affiliated with pepper&poppy...or are they?|
|It's fries, relax.|
|I ate this.|
|Average thieves wouldn't dress in iridescent; but, he's too slick to be caught.|
|The End! Wait..|
Not the end! Readers, you need to hear the story of Centerfudge. Who is Centerfudge, you ask? Centerfudge is one of Ocean City, Maryland's finest boardwalk folk. The OCMD boardwalk-folk range from a one-man band who stands on one-leg to a portly dude who spray paints trippy space scenes while listening to crappy techno. These people are the salt of the earth and Centerfudge wasn't even working, he was entertaining people on the boardwalk out of the goodness of his own drop-kicking heart. Instead of re-write the story that is Centerfudge, I cut and paste my original telling of this tale from an e-mail I sent to a friend after my vacation. Unlike the original recipient of this e-mail, you, dear readers, get an illustrated version. Read on and enjoy:
Have you ever seen those boxing video games in bars or arcades where a speed bag comes down and you have to hit it as hard as you can for points? If not, you're going to all the right bars. These games are very popular with the jersey shore crowd, many a no-neck orange skinned bro will hog this machine for hours to see just how high his punches can score. It can be pretty hysterical to watch, especially if the puncher has been drinking. This particular OCMD boardwalk-er who wanted to score some points was a little different than others I'd observed. The puncher was not a meathead with a terrible ed hardy t-shirt, he was a scrawny skater with dredlocks. He also had a voice similar to Sean Penn in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. I loved him already. The puncher was also not going to punch the speed bag, he announced the very loudly to his group of friends, he was going to "backwards cyclone kick" it. Unbeknownest to him, my camera was ready to document his feat. I'm not sure if he was drinking, but he was hilarious anyway. First he had some trouble getting the machine to accept his dollar, to which he said, "C'mon baby! Pleeease take my dollar!" Nothing like sweet talking a video game to make it do what you want. Secondly, when it came time to choose whether a man or woman was punching the speedbag, he pressed the button that said woman. **See arrow below**
When his friends started laughing at him, he said, "Umm, I'm kicking. It's just like a girl punch." Good point. I've been told after I punch someone that it feels just like a backwards cyclone kick from a man. Down came the speedbag, skinny skater dreds took a very dramatic step back and jumped about five feet off the ground and literally "backwards cyclone kick(ed)" the crap out of this speedbag.
I was so proud of him. My hopes weren't high for him either, I thought he was going to either completely miss or seriously injure himself in a way that would have prevented future generations of skinny skater dreds frequenting the OCMD boardwalk. The story doesn't end here, (sorry if you're bored). I got a perfect shot of SSD, in mid air, backwards cyclone kicking the bag. I'm pretty sure the woman button is lit up in it, too. I was perfectly happy keeping this shot for my own personal enjoyment, but my friend Keally (who is much too friendly with strangers, in my opinion) begged me to show the shot to SSD. I did and he was ecstatic. He took one look, backed up and jumped up in the air repeatedly. He then proceeded to high five me several times while saying, "Will you add me on facebook so I can make this my default?" No, but I will take down your e-mail so I can send it to you. "Ok, its center, c-e-n-t-e-r, fudge, f-u-g-e, 2003, I know I had this for a hot minute, at..." I wonder if he knows that his email could actually be a real word if he spelled it correctly? Is that what he was going for? Or did he misspell fudge? I don't know or care, I'm just pleased to have provided his new default pic.
There you have it, readers. The story of Centerfudge. He still hasn't responded to my e-mail, either. Oh well, as long as he's still drawing a crowd with his backwards cyclone woman kick, I'm happy.
I'm going to a workshop on blogging tomorrow. I wonder if I can still get professional development hours for "reading up" on all of my blogs or catching up on the two bridal shower photo stories I haven't had chances to post? Something tells me the abnormally tall woman hosting this workshop, whose oxygen levels I worry about since she is so very high up, wouldn't be okay with this. Sigh.