Sex Wax: The Best Stuff for Your Stick

Reposted from June 6th, 2011

Or to state it properly: Mr. Zogs Sex Wax. At first I didn’t know why they called it that because I, for one, would never use anything in my sexual escapades that imbeded a gooey mess into all the tiny hairs on my body worse than any brand of super glue I’ve ever had the displeasure of tangling with. But that’s what Frederick Charles Herzog, III, better known as Mr. Zog, calls the wax he invented for surfboards. Zog liked the name because it was attention-grabbing, absurd, and a spoof on advertisers’ not so subtle attempts to use sex to sell a product. It worked.



How we want to look

Now let me backtrack a bit here so you’ll know why I even bring this up. Labor Day 2010, my husband and I attended the National Kidney Foundation Pro Am Surf Festival at the Cocoa Beach Pier. We watched in amazement as a local couple competed in the Tandem Surfing event. He was 63 and she was 59! We met the couple and the other contestants and immediately fell in love with their Aloha spirit. My hubby is a long time surfer. I grew up doing gymnastics and cheerleading…the perfect complement for tandem surfing. Woo-hoo! So we decided to give it a try. Our first competition was to be Labor Day 2011.

I was immediatly hooked. I spend hours perusing web cams to see what the surf is like at our various beaches. We surf on the weekend, during the week, whenever we can get to the beach. We’ve even braved an invasion of Mauve Stingers, a small reddish jellyfish that killed the beaches here over the Memorial Day 2010 weekend, suffering numerous stings in the pursuit of our passion. I was amazed when we caught our first wave, more amazed when we first both got up to a stand on the board. My excitement spilled over when we accomplished out first lifts this last week. I screamed out my first surfer jargon.

“That was so narly! Let’s do it again.”

My hubby snickered.

What I don’t like is things that wiggle under my feet or come in for a closer look.

How we look right now

“Oh God! I stepped on something. Let me get on the board.”

“We haven’t gotten past the break.”

“I don’t care. I want on the board now! It’s moving.”

“Tamara, it’s the ocean. Of course it’s moving.”

Then there was the manatee he stepped on when he fell off the board. I held on for dear life, just knowing that the sea cow would come up under the board and flip me off into the group of stingrays that decided to see what we were up to. I had visions of ending up like Steve Irwin. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if we had clear water here in our part of Florida. But we don’t. It’s always murky and dark. Hiding unknown creepy crawlies intent on scaring the bejeezus out of me. Or eating me. The Caribbean, I like. You can see the bottom, see all the fishies and other things before they get you. But not here.

I won’t even go into my phobia of Jaws coming up to take a chunk out of me. I know it can happen. That’s why I keep my feet up on the board. At all times. Thank goodness I get dumped off in the shallow water.

And we have to practice our lifts on hard ground first. Nothing like trying to catch a tiny wave on a monstrous, slow moving board, and then try to figure out how to do a lift as well. So we practice in our front yard. To the continued amusement of our neighbors.

We were attempting a lift, and not well, and as I was unceremoniously dropped to the ground, I screeched and giggled as I hit the grass.

“I love this. Free entertainment and an excuse not to do yardwork.” Our neighbor sauntered up with a big grin on her face.

“Oh fine, be amused at my expense,” I grumbled as I pulled clover out of my teeth.

“But it’s so entertaining!”

Yeah, right. I’m sure my hubby thinks that as I accidently plant a foot in his nether regions, or lose my grip and throw my arm around his head in a move not seen outside the wrestling ring. But we’re having a blast with it, and learning new lifts each week. We’ll probably get knocked out of the competition in the first heat, but we can sit up on the pier and knock back beers with the best of ‘em, discussing the virtues of scented surf wax versus the original.

*****