Did you hear about those three teenage boys who took their dingy…God, I love that word…out into the Pacific chasing a girl. They were lost for 50 days.

Women are calling this is a stupid stunt,  men are wondering what the girl looked like.

How would three boys spend seven weeks, out  in the ocean alone with a bagful of coconuts and some beer?

Week One:  They were all scared.  Mostly because when they got back, their parents would just kill them.  No teenage boy thinks he is going to die by doing something so dangerously fun.  They passed their idle time by holding farting contests.  Which are not as much fun as you would think out in the open air.  You really need a ’66 Falcon Station Wagon, windows up,  for supreme farting fun.  I have heard that.

Week Two.  This was “Blame your Buddy” week.

“Only one sack of coconuts? You couldn’t have brought the Twizzlers? You dumbf^%&*!”

“At least I didn’t forget the oars, you sack of s&^%!”

“I think that girl went that way, over by those purpoises, you stupid @%^&, do I have to do everything in this boat too?”

“If we find her, I am telling her how you cried like a F*&^^*ng baby, you baby!”

“Seriously, we are lost at sea.  Dude, we can see you, can you give it a break?”

Week Three. They noticed, finally, they were getting a bit hungry.  They calculated and calculated how to split four remaining coconuts among the three of them.  Finally, tempers flared and they just gave up and threw one overboard.

Week Four. Got lucky this week, one of the coconuts that was thrown into the bottom of the boat happened to catch some rainwater.  SCORE!   They remembered every single glass of water they turned down back home.  There was some crying this week.  But alone, and each one covered it up pretty well.

Week Five. Thanksgiving time.  Jonathan Livingston Seagull found peace and nirvana on the edge of the little dingy that day.  There were no arguments over who got the white meat.  Tasted just like chicken.

Week Six. Full, they spent this week tanning and figuring out how they would split up the movie rights and book deals.  They would get millions, they reasoned.  Chilean miners, move over.  They brainstormed on how to get Brad Pitt’s email.

Week Seven. This was the week they made pacts.  Each one had been brave.  Each one had shared food and water.  Each one had great ideas.  Each one missed their families.  Each one didn’t really want that stupid girl. Each one wants to be a role model for other teenagers around the world.

Day 50, Found at Sea. “Thank you for finding us.” they said.   The boys had one question as they were last seen going into the hospital:

Has Conan called yet?