August 13th, 2005
|11:26 am - The Coolest State Park Name Ever|
Part of my Saturday work fun involves researching campgrounds in New Jersey. It's interesting to see the attitudes towards campgrounds as held by the Garden State's thriving tourism industry -- up north in the Skylands, of course, campgrounds are more traditional, lakeside jobbies, while down on the shore the big draw of the RV-only places is "Only 1 hour to Atlantic City!" I also found a nice, stately-sounding Goodland Country Club which, upon viewing, turned out to be a "clothing-optional resort" with a discreet and hard-to-discern picture of some clothing-optional folks enjoying a nice clothing-optional "sit a spell" on the resort's clothing-optional front porch. Well, howdy neighbor!
But that's not what I came to talk about today. Today I want to report that I've found the coolest state park name ever. Ladies and germs, I give you Cheesequake State Park.
Wow! What a pip! Who cares if the place is crummy, or falling apart, or infested with rabid animals? It's called CHEESEQUAKE! And the best part is that the official state website blithely keeps attention away from the kickass name, not even bothering to explain or justify it. Cheesequake just is, goshdarnit. Nobody's going ape over it, much like nobody's demanding explanations for Hacklebarney ("Other explinations[sic] come by way of the area’s iron-mining history. The first concerns an iron mine foreman named Barney Tracey, who was lovingly but persistently heckled by his workmen – hence the name “Heckle” Barney. Another tradition says the name came from the Irish miners and their home village in Cork County"), Double Trouble ("Originally a cranberry farm and packing plant, the former company town called Double Trouble is a window into past and current industries in the Pinelands") or Jenny Jump (no idea, but I bet there are some really cracking yarns about someone named Jenny jumping off the mountain.)
Except me, that is.
I had to look up Goodland Nekkid Country Club. I think it is so hilarious that their website shows lots of hot naked chicks, when we know what most nudist-resort-regulars bodies look like. They should have showed Uncle Mel and Aunt Enid, or Mr. Wobbling-Apron-of-Fat, or Mr. Don't-Mind-Me-And-My-Boner.
Hehe! You have a cool job.
Aunt Enid's Law of Nudist Colonies
The kinds of people you meet at the nudist colony are not the kinds of people you went to the nudist colony to meet.
Uncle Mel's Collorary to Aunt Enid's Law, Pertaining to European Nude Beaches
My, but them Germans never tan.
Among Aunt Enid's Most-Told Nudist Resort Stories
...so there I was in a lawn chair by the whirlpool pavillion burning the hair off my legs with a cigarette lighter and minding my beeswax, when suddenly everyone was fighting to get out of the water. All except old Dr. Zaikowski, that is. I don't even think it woke him up when his bowels relaxed.
That just makes me want to go to Dairy Queen now.
There's a rest stop near Cheesequake that's known for it's... er, anonymous gay sex options. Supposedly.
|Date:||August 17th, 2005 12:04 pm (UTC)|| |
It would be disappointing indeed if the locals pronounced it, e.g., chess-a-queek or something.