If you can put up the beach umbrella with one hand behind your back, you're probably ready for Weird Contest Week. Well into its second decade, the event offers vacationers five days of weird contests ("wacky but not tacky" is their motto) at the Music Pier, where Moorlyn Terrace meets the boardwalk.

The first three days are for the artists. Monday, salt water taffy sculptures. Winning works have included a unicorn, a ferris wheel and the leaning tower of Pisa. (Asking all art buffs: Is it any less of an achievement if the sculptor secretly wanted to make that freaky wizard tower from Lord of the Rings, but the thing just keeled over?)

Tuesday and Wednesday continue the squishing of art and food with, respectively, French fry- and Tastykake-sculpting contests. Memorable Tastykake creations? A map of New Jersey, Elvis and a seagull. This last one presents the priceless opportunity to do as Ozzy would do: stumble confusedly around on the sand for your victory lap, then bite the thing's head off. In the name of family togetherness, of course.

Thursday brings the wet T-shirt contest. No, not like that. A wet T-shirt throwing contest. Disappointed? Don't gripe. Seize that wet T-shirt and incinerate 1 percent of the calories City Paper knows you've put on while eating your fast food masterpieces for the past three days. Can you beat 165 feet?

Finally, Friday rounds up the weird, the talented, the beautiful and the loud with several different events. Little Mr. and Little Miss Chaos pageants invite kids aged 3 to 5 to bang pots and pans and generally make a commotion in any way they see fit. Bless their hearts.

The judges of the Mr. and Miss Miscellaneous competitions fete those who can do, well, whatever they want. Title-seekers usually include musicians, singers, would-be comedians and acrobats, but anything goes. "One woman got dressed up as a cat, and she started to meow," says Mark Soifer, Ocean City public relations director and organizer since the first Weird Week. "I never quite got the point of that."

Some events have been abandoned over the years, adds Soifer, such as the Putrid Pun Contest and the Miscellaneous Sun Tan Tournament. (Best Left Arm Tan one summer turned out to mean Best Squamous Cell Carcinoma the next.) They've also been experimenting with new events like hermit crab wrestling. No bloodshed, and only a little cruelty—two hermit crabs are flipped on their backs and the first one to right itself wins.

"We do test them for steroids, give them little cups," jokes Soifer.

But all the old standbys should be going strong; the food contests usually exhibit the talent of about 100 sculptors each day. The Miss Miscellaneous competition even has its own hymn of praise: "Miss Miscellaneous, so, so spontaneous, never extraneous, even if it would rain on us, it wouldn't be a pain to us, because we adore you, we adore you, Miss Miscellaneous."