It’s summer, which means it’s time to hit the beach. Which means it’s time to hit the bottle — of Corona Light after Corona Light after Bud Light Lime-A-Rita. Which means it’s time to hit the head. Oh dang, is that the line for the ocean? Forget that noise.
The benefit of packing the 54-quart Coleman with 6-packs — other than drinking those 6-packs — is that I have a place to pee when there are too many people in the Atlantic. I just pop open the lid, pop a squat, and make the ol’ bottle deposit. Some days, the cooler’s fuller on the drive home than it was on the way here. Really active bladder, y’all.
Sure, there’s that actual bathroom 20 yards away, but c’mon, this is the Jersey Shore — you know those toilets are gross as yuck. No, thanks.If I’m squirming from more than just sand in my bathing suit, I’m gonna be pee in the ocean, like a real American. And when that line is too long — the line to pee in the ocean, which every beach has — I’m gonna pee in my own cooler, like a real impatient American.
What are you dummies lookin’ at? Just parking my rear over the beer and Diane’s half sandwich from WaWa that she wasn’t gonna finish anyway. Ahhhhh, sweet relief. The sun is out and my bladder’s empty. Time to stick my hand in for another bev — oh, that’s a little warm. Crack this baby open and — hey, who took a dump in my sunhat?
Nikki Palumbo is a New York-based comedy writer. She writes for the UCB team, Charles, and for herself, @nikkipalll.