St. Patrick’s Day Party At The Dip!

As I mentioned in my last post, I was up at Serendipity a few weeks ago and though I didn’t have nearly as much time as I would have liked, I was still reminded of how instantly relaxed you become when passing through its gates. (Or gate. It’s just one gate, but it’s electric and everything. It even has a little red button you can press and talk to people. Personally, I think it’s magic.)

This past winter in northern Georgia was just plain nasty. If you lived through it then I don’t need to tell you about its bitterness. It seems like all of my friends know someone who was stuck in their car for hours, even days. DAYS. I get impatient at stop signs. I would have been  like “Nell” when they found me, speaking some kind of language I made up and hissing when someone got close to me.  (She did hiss in that movie, right? I don’t know. I didn’t see it. I just remember she was a jungle girl or something and people liked the movie a lot. It looked sad and I refuse to watch something that I know will make me sad. Why do people do that? What’s wrong with you? Anyway, if you haven’t seen it, Jodie Foster played a girl raised in the wild without other people. Then some people found her and brought her to society, but they should have left her alone because she had an awesome life. If you ever find me wandering around in the woods and speaking Mayonese, please go away.)

So yeah. Cold winter. It’s coming to an end. Good riddance, I say. Good riddance. I’m ready to play naked in the sun, drink girlie drinks and sleep until I feel like not sleeping. I’m ready to relax and hang out with the people I miss. I’m just ready.

The St. Patrick’s Day party is this weekend, and if I remember correctly, wow. It was one of the best parties of last year. (I say “one of” because the awesome parties at this particular nudist park are plentiful, but this one had green hats. I remember wearing a green hat. I don’t remember much else, but if I’m wearing a plastic hat for hours on end, I am having an awesome time. I’m pretty sure that green hat is still sitting where I threw it when I took it off. It’s probably time to do a little cleaning. Cleaning is so boring, right? Do you think Nell cleaned? No. I bet they didn’t tell her about the cleaning part when they dragged her out of the jungle and tossed her into society. She was probably like, “Sooope? What sooope? vakum? Wos dishez? Huh? HISS!!!”)

Love Lost: A Tragic Story

If you haven’t noticed, it’s been a pretty cold winter at the park. And for the first time in a couple of years, I wasn’t there to experience it.

All I can say about that is, “Woo-hoo! In your face, ice and snow! Who’s your daddy? Uh huh. This guy.”

To further prove I made the weather my bitch this year, I came back to Serendipity Park for a couple days and it was 70 degrees. I mean, there were still patches of snow everywhere, and it was SEVENTY DEGREES.

It’s like weather said, “Hey. Mayo’s coming up. We need to clean this place up before he arrives. But leave a little bit of the prettiness here and there. He’ll like that.” And I did.

I figure it’s the least weather can do for busting a pipe in my bathroom, leading to a weary-eyed, coffee-less Mayo flooding his home, then spending much of his relaxation time pretending to be a plumber. And crying.

But alas, I defeated the faulty pipe with parts I purchased for less than a dollar. A dollar. And then I felt the enormous sense of satisfaction of fixing a pipe. And now I know how to fix a pipe. Isn’t that the most interesting thing you’ve ever heard in your life? I know. But wait… there’s more.

Hardware store lady: Can I help you?

Mayo: Oh thank you. God, yes. Check this plastic thing out. I think I need one of these. And a wrench.

Hardware store lady: Oh ok. We have those fittings right over here. What type of wrench do you need?

Mayo: Uh… a monkey wrench? I figure if a monkey can use one, I’ll figure it out.

Hardware store lady: You probably need a pipe wrench. Do you know what size?

Mayo: Ummm… pipe-size?

Hardware store lady: I think I know what you need. Be right back. (Ducks into aisle and returns with a wrench.) Do you think this will work?

Mayo: Probably. I don’t know. I love you. Are you married?

Hardware store lady: Um… nooo.

Mayo: You should marry me. I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, but you should.

Hardware store lady: I don’t even know you.

Mayo: Oh, but you do. It took you four seconds to find exactly what I needed. That’s the kind of help I need on an ongoing basis. I usually have no idea what I’m doing. Do you cook?

Hardware store lady: I’m really not interested.

Mayo: It’s always about you, isn’t it? I’m not sure this will work. How much is this plastic thing?

Hardware store lady: Thirty-one cents.

Mayo: Are you giving me a special price because you love me?

Hardware store lady: No. That’s just how much it is.

Mayo: Nothing is thirty-one cents. I think you’re just being shy, like Adrian in Rocky. I get it. Come on out of there, baby. Open up to me.

Hardware store lady: I think you need to leave now.

Mayo: I’m not going anywhere. You leave this time. You can stay at your mother’s.

Hardware store lady: I’m calling the police.

Mayo: Too late. I already did. I told them a crazy woman was attacking me with a wrench.

Hardware store lady: What? When?

Mayo: Before I came in. I thought it might go down this way. They should be here any minute.

I thought long and hard about whether or not to press charges. In the end, I decided it was best for her. I can’t always come to her rescue. Sometimes you have to face the music.

I visit her from time to time, show her pictures of the kids, tell her they miss and love her… things I think will make her time easier. She pounds on the glass and cries.

I know it’s because she misses us.

2014: Let The Fun Begin

I missed the New Year’s Eve party. Several things came up and it was just impossible to get there.  I’ll bet it was a million times better than watching Ryan Seacrest countdown to 2014, but at least there’s a big shiny ball and I like those. I think everyone loves a shiny ball. Anyone who doesn’t can’t be trusted.

So what’s new at Serendipity Park for this year? Pure fun. Fun on steroids. Horse steroids.

Take a look at the event calendar here:

Poker night is on 1/17 and that’s a great opportunity to have me hand you money while we play a fun game. I’m awful at poker. One member seeks me out each time she visits. I’d use her name, but I don’t have her permission and I’m too lazy to ask. So…

Member: Hey Mayo! Let’s get a poker game going!

Me: How about I just give everyone $20.00 and we sing karaoke?

And I’m not joking. I think it’s my poker face, which seems to be more of a mirror that reflects my hand so that all at the table can clearly see it. I think I have a tell, and I think it might be my entire face. I also say, “Did I win?” a lot and that’s another good sign I should be somewhere else.

I know the weather isn’t necessarily ideal, but there are some nice days forecasted throughout the winter. And if you’re like me and have been spending much of your time inside four walls then I’ll give you some advice that everyone gives me: “You need to get out of your house. You’re starting to scare me.”

New Year’s Eve Party At The Dip

So… hi? How have you been? Ok you go.

(Waits Impatiently.)

(Taps Foot.)

Fine. I’ll go.

Those who know me (and I’ve mentioned this before) know I am a hermit. And people often wonder what I’m doing all those hours I spend alone. Basically, I’m hiding from people.

Now that kind of sounds anti-social, because it totally is.  I mean no offense to you at all, but if you’re reading this, there’s a good chance you are a person and giving me the finger.

But wait… allow me to explain.

It’s not like I dislike people. I’m just kind of socially awkward. I’m uncomfortable in social situations because I’m more worried about saying or doing something stupid. I do it all the time, so I know it happens.  That’s why I just stay home a lot, type stuff, look on craigslist for things that I can buy, watch reality tv shows, and eat lots of candy.

I’ve been down in Florida for a couple months because I get chilly. I’m kind of like… I don’t even know. I am the new standard for wussy when it comes to cold tolerance. As soon as it hits 60, the equator starts magnetically drawing me southward.

For the people who live in the snow, I applaud you, but I’ve stopped so I can do that cuckoo thing where you revolve one finger around your ear and point in the direction of crazy with another. You can’t clap and do that at the same time.

So anyway, I miss The Dip a lot. I miss the people very much, and I usually don’t miss people. I’m sure there are all sorts of psychological reasons that led to why I avoid them, and probably all sorts of things that happened to me as a child and through my formative years. (Like the time when I was the only one who showed up to a high school Halloween party in a costume. Specifically, a diaper. Holding a teddy bear. Sucking on a pacifier. And crying.)

But the Dip is different. It’s comfortable. You can walk into a room full of people and feel instantly at home. There’s a camaraderie that’s hard to describe and sense of comfort I have not felt anywhere else. I guess what I’m saying is that I miss The Dip terribly, and despite the weather being below 60 degrees, I can’t stay away.

Unbelievably, the end of 2013 is here. Remember this time last year when we thought the Mayans had totally screwed us? Ha! In your face, Mayans! (Makes cuckoo motion.)  And with the end of this year comes the party of the year, and personally, I can’t wait.  For old time’s sake I might even dress like a baby.

If you haven’t attended a Serendipity Park New Year’s Eve party, I don’t want to say you’re dumb, but that’s only because I try to be polite and it’s mean to call people that.  Ok “dumb” is the completely wrong word. Let’s say you’re misinformed about the awesomeness that awaits you. So allow me to fill you in.

It’s awesome. The atmosphere is charged with positive vibes. I’ve been to a lot of New Year’s Eve’s parties in my day… wait. Scratch that. No I haven’t. I usually avoid them. And I think that’s a testament to the parties at The Dip, because I don’t avoid them. I guess that’s my entire point.

So if you’ve made plans this year other than to be at Serendipity, cancel them. Just call the people you made plans with and say something like, “I wish I could attend your party, but… I have to go to Peru.”  This way they won’t think you’re throwing them over for a better party. And if they ask, “Why are you going to Peru?” You simply respond, “None of your business! You don’t own me!” Then you slam the phone down. People shouldn’t pry. That’s just rude.

The Champions Of Breakfast

If you read this blog or have had the displeasure of being around me at 2 am, you’ve learned that I like me some breakfast. And if I have any words of advice for those who are around during this period of food tunnel vision, my recommendation is that you don’t say, “Yes, I’m sober” or “My car is right over there.”

If you make these statements in tandem, the next thing you’ll see is me standing in front of you babbling something about eggs and pointing at your car.

This behavior has earned me the prestigious position of 2 am breakfast coordinator, a role I take seriously and tackle with passion. It begins by someone walking up to me and saying, “Hassshhh broooooowwwwnns.” This is when the training kicks in.

My first step is to do an overall assessment of the room. I’ll ask myself questions like, “Who in here looks hungry?” and “Why does Morgan Freeman not age?” (ADD is a bitch.)

Then I begin the hunt for you, sober person with wheels. And if I find you, get ready for peer pressure you haven’t experienced since childhood.

Last night went much like this, and unfortunately, our sober person lets peer pressure bounce off him like… an adult. Well played, sober person. Well played.

And in truth, you do not want to be this person. Not only for fifteen minutes will I be pacing in front of you and waving my arms like a monkey, I might call you some names, apologize, tell you how much I love you and ask if we’re still best friends. It might go something like:

Me: But Steve, I love you.

Steve: My name’s not Steve.

Well played, Steve. Well played.

Undeterred and with a room full of hungry people, I began to execute plan b. This involves a second assessment of the room, but now I’m asking myself questions like, “Who here has food?” and “Who’s willing to cook me food?” and “I wonder what Morgan Freeman eats? That might be how he does it. I’m going to Google that when I get home.”

Last night, fortunately for all of us, the food team sprang into action. Jeff agreed to cook, Shannon agreed to help, Stuart agreed to open the restaurant to feed the people, and I agreed to eat. I’m not saying we’re heroes, but only because I can’t spell it.

The food was supplied by the men who slaved over a hot stove for the hungry masses. Bacon, sausage, eggs, hash browns… it was all there. There was more food than we could eat, but that didn’t stop us from eating almost all of it.  And despite being in a tremendous amount of pain from consuming an entire farm, I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. It’s just another great example of the spontaneity and good people you’ll find here.

Unbelievably, Labor Day is upon us. Wow. It feels like we were entirely robbed of a summer. Stupid rain. But no matter. The past is history, the future is a mystery, and today is a gift. That’s why it’s called the present.

I learned that from the turtle in Kung Fu Panda, a source of great wisdom and largely the basis of my life’s philosophy. And while Labor Day is technically the future, it will soon be the present, then it will be history. See how that works?

I know it’s pretty confusing. I’m confused. I just mean come here for Labor Day.

Again, I’d like to thank the awesome, awesome people who fed us. If I could saint them, I totally would. I’m going to look up how to do that. I’m sure there’s an app or something.

(Oh and one more thing. In about 2 hours, I have a massage scheduled. If you haven’t had one of those here, schedule it now. Now! It’s a must.)

Serendipity Park Reality Show? Maybe…

I’m not sure I’ve ever been a part of something that fills me with as much positive energy as this past weekend. I think most of us are still walking around on clouds. The good will was palpable, contagious, and permeated every inch of this wonderful place.

Television producers Kinga Philipps and Johnny Bell spent their first weekend here at The Dip. Not only did they seemingly have a great time, they left as beloved members of our family. I know I speak for most everyone here when I say that.

Ok, the serious part of this post is officially over. It’s time to move onto my trying to capture the fun that was this weekend. Activities included naked slip n’ sliding, Christmas caroling, karaoke, astronomy, painting a man’s nipples orange after he passed out… pretty much the usual and probably much like your own weekends at home.

I’m going to break a little rule of mine and publish some pictures of the happenings inside the park. Partly because my words won’t do it justice, and partly because I still can’t feel my brain.

If you haven’t guessed by now, there’s a potential reality show in the works and I can think of none that would be more entertaining. On Friday and Saturday, we laughed more than I can recall. On Sunday, I don’t know what everyone else did. I sat in my recliner and drooled on my remote control.

With that, let’s see some pics.

Here's Johnny and Kinga setting up in the sun for Gina's interview.

Here’s Johnny and Kinga setting up in the sun for Gina’s interview.


Here’s them all regretting that decision shortly thereafter.

Here's me content that we've decided to shoot my interview in the shade.

Here’s me content with our decision to shoot the remaining interviews in the shade.

This is Johnny and Kinga laughing at the story of the time Stuart temporarily blinded me. And also Mike's elbow.

This is Johnny and Kinga laughing at the story of the time Stuart temporarily blinded me. And also Mike’s elbow.

This is Gus playing the air piano we got him for Christmas.

Gus was there and playing the air piano we got him for Christmas.

Fergie was on vocals.

Fergie was on vocals.

This is Manny just sitting back and enjoying the show.

Manny was just sitting back and enjoying the show.

This is Mike shortly before he climbed into a tree naked and cut down a limb. Later he would explain that wasn't a good idea.

This is Mike shortly before he climbed naked up a tree and cut down a limb. Later he would explain that wasn’t a good idea.

This is me explaining to Johnny where aliens come from.

This is me explaining to Johnny where aliens come from.

The interviews took most of the day, though some activities were shot. Like Mike in a tree naked, for example. Later that evening, we started to cut loose a little, a long-standing tradition here at Serendipity Park.

This is Johnny getting into the swing of things.

This is Johnny getting into the swing of things.

This is Johnny well into the swing of things.

This is Johnny well into the swing of things. (If you’re wondering why I have paint all over me, it’s because I hugged Gus after we painted his nipples. Duh.)

This is our new boy band, Johnny and the Sacs-a-phones.

This is our new boy band, Johnny and the Sacs-a-phones.


This is Kinga singing Swing Low, Sweet Chariot. I'd have never pegged her as a baritone.

This is Kinga singing Swing Low, Sweet Chariot. I’d have never pegged her as a baritone.

It was the first of 2 great nights. Regrettably, much of the next day’s shoots weren’t caught by our photographer, Mike, because he was busy naked slip ‘n’ sliding or trying to mount Manny’s inflatable killer whale in the pool. Like I said before, just your average weekend activities. But he was able to get some stuff.

This is Stuey finally getting an opportunity to sit down and do his interview.

This is Stuey finally getting an opportunity to sit down and do his interview.

This is Stuey recanting one of the most epic speeches regarding quantum physics I had ever heard, to which I replied, I like boobs.

Here he is reiterating one of the most flawless and brilliant definitions of quantum physics I have ever heard, to which I replied, I like boobs.

This is moon doing what Moon does, and that's having everyone doubling over from laughter and trying to keep their spleen from rupturing.

This is Moon doing what Moon does, and that’s having everyone doubling over from laughter while trying to keep their spleens from rupturing.

This is Gus wearing a hat I plan on stealing from him.

This is Gus wearing a hat I plan on stealing from him.

Later that night, Stuey would masterfully command the DJ booth after coordinating the entire day’s events. He’s unbelievable. There’s nothing more to say.

This is Kinga capturing shiny, happy people holding hands on  the dance floor.

This is Kinga capturing shiny, happy people holding hands on the dance floor.


But that didn’t last too long.

Just off the dance floor, I'm reciting some of my haikus to Johnny.

Just off the dance floor, I’m reciting some of my haikus to Johnny.

Then I did this, which looks considerably cooler and more athletic than it did in real life.

Then because he seemed bored, I did this, which looks considerably cooler and more athletic than it did in real life.

Most of us were also able to get some photo opportunities with our newfound family members.

This is Gina and Kinga after a long, but very fun couple of days.

This is Gina and Kinga after a long, but very fun couple of days.

This is Mike, Gina's husband, naked tree-trimmer, and photographer extraordinaire.

This is Mike, Gina’s husband, naked tree-trimmer, and photographer extraordinaire.

This is a Kinga sandwich on white bread.

This is a Kinga sandwich on white bread.

This is Moon, still doing what Moon does.

This is Moon, still doing what Moon does.

And this is the self-proclaimed happiest man in the world.

And this is the self-proclaimed happiest man in the world.

To echo many of our sentiments, whatever happens from here is irrelevant. Whether or not The Dip becomes a show, this past weekend will be emblazoned in our memories for the rest of our lives.

We’d all like to send a sincere thank you to Kinga Philipps and Johny Bell, two of our newest favorite people. They didn’t just document the experience, they became a part of it. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Another Awesome Weekend

I don’t want to brag, at least not in writing. When I brag I like to use my hands to point at my biceps. That’s hard to do while I’m typing, so just pretend.

As promised, my partner and I brought home the Serendipity Cup in the annual Petanque tournament, an honor which includes your names forever engraved on a 3′ tall trophy. In other words, the most awesome thing ever.

So now we are immortalized. I don’t know about Mike (my Petanque partner), but I’m already pretty bored. I’ve been immortal for a little over a week and I’m starting to understand the endless monotony the other immortals complain about. I’m thinking about joining a support group.

But enough about me. (Yeah right! As if I’d really stop talking about me. You fell right into that one.)

This past weekend was the kan jam tournament in which Stuey and I rode a string of forfeits to the championship. We are just that good.

You see, there’s a thing around here called “Dip time” you’ll hear a lot of the members mention. It basically means, “If you’re having fun doing something else, don’t stop doing it because you have to be somewhere else.”

Speaking of fun, Ratz In The Attic performed Saturday night and they were excellent. When I wasn’t listening to them I was stumbling into things and saying excuse me a lot. (I’m pretty sure it was excuse me. It might have been, “gggmlieeeeee”.) At one point (I was told), I accused a pole of attacking me.

I don’t drink beer too often, but when I do, I prefer it not be Dos Equis. I actually don’t drink beer because I like girlie drinks. I’ll admit it. Slap a little umbrella in it, maybe a cherry and name it “The Mary Poppins” for all I care. I like sugar because it’s delicious and best disguises the taste of alcohol.

On Friday night, we sang karaoke. I performed songs like… poorly.  Others sounded exactly like the original artists and I almost remember some of them. Honestly, if you want to get the details of this past weekend, the newsletter will be your best bet.

I do remember going to Waffle House at 3am on Sunday morning and eating what can only be described as… 3 giant plates of food. (I’m a writer.)

The others ask where I put it and the answer is, “I jam it into my stomach until it hurts really, really bad. Afterwards, I come home, hate myself, watch infomercials, then pass out in tremendous pain.” It’s a process, but if I’ve learned anything it’s that I don’t learn anything.

When I drink too much, I get the “1,000 yard hash brown stare” and think of nothing but food. The only thing that will curb that insatiable hunger is… food. So I start asking everybody, “Hey, we dfe go brfast?” and everyone usually knows what I’m talking about because they’ve come to understand 2am Mayo-nese.

I don’t want to paint a picture of a bunch of drunk people running around making asses of themselves. I’m trying to paint a picture of me doing it.

Like I said, I’m not a big drinker. I’m pretty much like a party groundhog. I pop out every 6 months, drink a ton, then disappear for the rest of the season. But every single time I emerge, I have an epic time. Each party is better than the last.

The other night, Stuart said to me, “I’ve been throwing a party for my closest friends every weekend for the last fifteen years.” I can only attest to the last couple of those years, but I can tell you that attending a Serendipity Park party should be high on your bucket list.