My brother was a lifeguard in a car wash.

The problem with the gene pool is that there's no lifeguard.

I've framed houses, worked on an asphalt crew, I was a cop, a lifeguard.

It is a gift to be a teenager, and I see a dad's job as lifeguard, not chaperone.

If your lifeguard duties were as good as your singing, a lot of people would be drowning.

When I grew up, my model of God was like a lifeguard: I knew He loved me, but He blew his whistle a lot.

I would be doing anything to avoid a 9-5 job and high heels. Lifeguard, beach volleyball player, whatever.

I was a lifeguard, camp counselor, the president of the YMCA Leaders Corps. I also took piano lessons. I was a dancer.

I was a lifeguard for three years, when I was around 16-years-old. So for my first job, that was awesome, working on the beach.

The first two pictures I did, I played a young student in prep school. When I did Lifeguard, everyone was saying, You're so Southern California. It was a surprise to me.

Football has that wonderful gift of being accessible. You don't need much gear, a coach, or a lifeguard. You just need your imagination, strong legs, and a couple of friends, and it's a game.

Sometimes the very best of all summer books is a blank notebook. Get one big enough, and you can practice sketching the lemon slice in your drink or the hot lifeguard on the beach or the vista down the hill from your cabin.

The year most of my high school friends and I got our driver's permits, the coolest thing one could do was stand outside after school and twirl one's car keys like a lifeguard whistle. That jingling sound meant freedom and power.

Let me put it this way, if you were drowning, you wouldn't really be in a place to lend a hand as far as being rescued. You'd be at the mercy of the lifeguard. Once pulled out, you may be a little out of it, not sure where you are, but safe nonetheless.

You know, I know a lot of lifeguards. Both my parents were lifeguards at a lake in El Paso, Texas. I was a lifeguard in a swimming pool in Portland, Ore. And I have known and met and befriended a number of oceangoing lifeguards in California where I live.

From fifth grade on, I worked at our public library. The pay, a pittance, was almost superfluous. All through high school, I looked forward to summer as the time when I could work at the library four or five days a week. I was never a camp counselor, a lifeguard, a scooper of ice cream.

The one thing I really lucked out on is that all through my teenage years, when my sister was a lifeguard and everyone I knew was out in the sun all day - I was in the theater. Everyone called me Casper because I never had a tan, and everyone else was tan all the time. I think that was the luckiest thing of my life.

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