Revolt in Monmouth County

First of all, anti-intuitively, Monmouth County ocean fun is created for people who cant survive in the ocean. Let alone, swimmers, surfers and body boarders.

If you display any ability of swim talent, you're whistled out for swimming. Welcome to America.

Shrewsbury Township, on one of two All-Star RV surf ships equipped with X-Boxes, ear-splitting stereos, porno stars and 70-feet of typical limo-like luxury doing 110 MPH through the infamous Exit 116 trooper barracks 65 MPH speed zone on the parkway. Did I mention the bunks and the big circular bed which was the reason why we hoarded Linen’s N Things and Bed, Bath and Beyond coupons for sheets and mattress pads because it got boring fucking women in fresh wet spots. (Though, I know for a fact that a lot of women get off on it...) My technique was lots of towels.

Time warp.

Then, suddenly, dark side of the moon ninja surfing. Wiped out a lot, but still got away with it. Then parked in front of the White St. Bagel place with the engines idling. Just for balls sake. Cops are either lazy or dumb. Our vans were parked. We changed in the dim moonlight, bright streetlight. If a cop (especially a certain one in that very town) showed up he’d be all over us, calling for back up and frisking nearly nude surfers. (Almost a homoerotic cop moment… handcuffs, kneading of butts and dicks, them fingering the dude under the guise of looking for “hidden” narcotics. Then said cop goes home to his wife. Why is there an abnormally erotic fingering thing among cops? Cop wives smell those stinky fingers every night, then sleep with the anonymous human male anus scent digitally inserted into their precious orifices for those traditionally cross-contaminary cop innocent excuses.

Good thing I crashed at my place, a mile up the road.