If you are ever in dire need of a churro on a Friday night, you can find a really greasy one on the Santa Monica pier.
Its an especially dicey move to do this at the beginning of the evening.
Because then it has a chance to percolate, becoming a gastro-intestinal time bomb, and you never know when it will go off.
If you can be sitting on a toilet at that moment, all is well.
If not, clamp your asscheeks together and run like hell, because your rectum is not fucking around at this point, it means business and its loaded for bear.
I have tried for the last five minutes to figure out how to include the phrase “Shitting like a grizzly bear” and failed.
It still makes me giggle as is.
Back to the pier.
You have to ask yourself, why would you do that to yourself, the whole eating the churro thing.
Its one of the few foods out there that you instinctively know its bad for you, you don’t even have to ask.
But they are nauseatingly good.
Deep fried AND rolled in sugar? How can you go wrong?
And just to make it even more thrilling, kind of like rectal bungee jumping, you go to a place that has few bathrooms and the ones they do have look and smell like a ferrets cage.
Roll that one around in your head for a moment.
Anyway, even with the gurgling stomach the pier is always fun.
Mainly because they have rides.
Not even great rides, but the same cheap rides that any low end carnival will have.
Even the ferris wheel.
I love ferris wheels.
I know, I know, before you say it, I know.
This is deep seated, early childhood imprinting here, don’t fuck with it.
Anyway, the tickets are about 10 times what they were when I was a kid, but I do make a lot more than what my allowance used to be.
We get on and are soon a few stories up.
And then I see it.
Pointed at me.
I begin to feel a little creepy wondering what the hell has gone on all over these plastic seats that prompted them to put in a security camera.
The mind boggles, but the first thought is ewww.
Suddenly, for the first time ever, I want off of the ferris wheel.
Now, it is kind of like being in a nasty public bathroom, one of those ones that are so nasty you don’t even want to sit down on the toilet.
So you hover your naked ass over the bowl.
Same thing now, except for the naked ass part.
I get off the ride and make my way down the pier, dejected and sad.
You rotten bastards.
A little piece of my childhood is gone. Taken away by the freaks of the world in general and the pier specifically.
I have to go to the bathroom anyway.
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