Super Hefe 2010

New Hefe goals for 2010. In no particular order...


Get completely healthy and stop my body from constant little stupid annoying breakdown injuries that only non-athletes should get.

Talk to any female.

Quit being a such a fag and dawn patrol when there's surf.

Use more colon cleanse.

Gain control of my career once again by either quitting my job and making my own future, dropping out and moving back to Idaho for a lifestyle filled with shooshing and spandex wearing, or making my boss realize I'm not retard.

Quit eating sugar for 3 months and see how the body reacts. Not candy type sugar, but more like the Chai latte, sugary teryaki sauce, etc kind of hidden sugars.

Getting a stable place to live and have a homebase to dominate.

Living without cable TV for as long as possible. It's been great reading shit and learning. My brain was mush but it's helping me focus for long periods of time.

Commit to the gym 6 days a week, every week. Become more jockish and don't be a pussy and bail when I feel tired.

Get on the bike a shit ton this summer and climb Gibralter at least once a month.

DO NOT GIVE ANY OPINIONS AT WORK. They don't care. Spend my time work on my career away from the office.

Learn more Espanol.

Leave this continent.

Death comes thrice

OOOooooooo!
Guess what?
Guess what?
I've been out of loop due to no interweb at the trailer park. That's part of being trailer trash that I'm getting used to, pal. But I'm sitting here at Coffee Bean logged on like a common vagrant, and I read about the beloved Sports Machine operator, George Michael died. Not to be confused with George Michael, the more arsty, bathroom humping half of WHAM. Poor guy. He was on late sunday nights pressing imaginary buttons on a crappy green screen while it sounded like the whole show was dubbed in Turkey. Sports this, jocks that, blah, blah blah. I watched it anyway because back then, we only had 3 fucking channels. That's all. But what this dying really means is another tri-fecta of death. First it was Brittany Murphy, now Mr Michael. Who's next? Who leaves this mortal coil and completes the circuit? Maybe it's old man Farve who takes a licking on an icey LAAAAAAMMMMBBBOOOOO FIELD. Or maybe Lindsay Lohan blows out a nostril and heart valve simultaneously on New Years Eve. Could it be one of the Jersey Shore guidos head literally fawkin pops. That Charlie Sheen is a loose cannon. Dear god in heaven, I wish it was Carrot Top. I've been hoping it was him forever. My previous picks of chain smoking Swayze and Ted Kennedy have sadly, passed away, so I've got nothing. I'm grasping at straws. I know I'm forgetting about someone. Who can it be? If you guess correctly, you get 1 free bar of Surf Wax, and a douching in Holy Water, you voodoo loving spawn of satan. Time's a tickin, lock them in TODAY!

Happy Feats of Strength

From my humble little homestead by the sea to your beautiful home, Merry Christmas (Happy Hanukkah to all my non-gentile friends). May we all get tremendous swell of some kind tonight, manana, and forever.

Revenge of the Synth

Take a nice Kajagoogoo, grab your Bananarama and hunker down to nice spot of British Synth. Parts 1, 2, & 3 of 10.

Ski Maui

I feel like I should hate this. I don't. It's not my bag, but it's more legit than SUP dorks.

*UPDATE-6 HOURS LATER AND NOPE, STILL NO HATE SWELLING.

Let's dance!

Not a whole helluva lot going on around Recluse Headquarters. Just your normal levels of rage and anger followed by extreme mellowness and joy. Surfed Rincon all fucking weekend and had a great time. For the most part I was able to surf the rivermouth all by myself. Everybody was up top or in the cove. Not sure why, but it was great. Lots of gay-ass waves in the waist to shoulder high range. A few topped out at around head high. And super clean. Eventually some a-holes took notice and tried to steal my thunda. I kinda burned some backpaddling, stink-bugging, Pit Crew dork. I let him get all his yelling out of his system and laughed in his face with barely saying a word. Then his buddy burned me. Touchee, my friend. Last friday, we had our Company Christmas party. Didn't really feel like going, but I felt I oooowed it to them. So I sat quietly, spaced out, stuffed my face, and watched the clock till an acceptable time to bail. Then I made my break and never looked back. We might have a solid week of surf coming through, so I've pulled the plug on driving to Sun Valley, Idaho. It would be rad to see all my olf friends up there, but they'd don't have squat for snow. Instead, I'm staying in Santa Barbara and hope to surf myself out over the next couple weeks while on vacation. Happy surfboarding!

Understanding the ho-hoo

It's important to go into negotiations with as much information as possible.

Homelessness 101

One thing I've learned while being homeless by choice, is that I've got plenty of spare time. There's no couch to sloth on for a couple hours each night. Obviously I'm single. Add to that my lack of TV, I've got plenty of minutes to kill. So I go to gym more often and work on my pecs. I've also found the time for more yoga for stretching out the hammy's. I call and bug friends. Or read. Or just stare blankly and think funny thoughts. Or I hang out at coffee shops more than usual. Which leads me to another thing that I've learned. Lord-loving nutbags drink a fuckload of coffee and kill their time at Starbucks in Montecito. Last night, this old windbag and her daughter started chanting then yelling about her old man, a Jewish carpenter bum named Jesus. As she was saying her goodbye's to all of us, yet nobody in particular, she took the words right out of my mouth...."I'm bringing you a nice almond bread whether you like it or not." I might've ended it with, "now go fuck yourself". But to each their own.

Where 2

So after dwelling on the past yesterday, it's time to look towards the future. Think futuristically. I need to plan my next vacation. March or April. I need a warm water surf vacation and I need to get away from my desk. The last few years, its always been Mexico. Several little towns north of Zihatenajo is where I've burned 100% of my sacred vaction time and long weekends. Honestly, I've got that shit wired. And now that my buddy is putting the finishing touches on his El Stabbin Cabana, I've got a free place to crash and an F150 to drive. It's all too easy and pretty cheap. No struggle. Not really an adventure. It feels like coming home and people down there know me. It feels like Southern California, only less Mexicans and more aging Parrot Heads and Stand Up Paddle Dorks. Which is why I may have to switch it up this year. Some place new to me. But in April? I'm not much of a boozer or partier these days, so I don't need night life. Maybe a mellow coldie or two at some bar with a sand floor and I'm good to go. Where should I go to focus on surfing and sleeping? Bali, too early? Peru, too early, too cold? Pavones? Sumatra? Oz? I'm thinking warm water, good swell in April, relatively budget, and mellow crowds for 3 weeks of decompression. That's all.

End of Oh Nine

Holy FUCK! Can you believe it's the end of the world...ooops I mean end of the decade. 10 years ago I had never even held a surfboard, broken a bone, been outside the US (except for Cananda), had a hemmoroid, driven a $900,000 car, flown in a private jet, shot rabbits dead, sunbathed naked, driven over 140 mph, lived in an Airstream, survived Y2K, lost damm near everything in the stock market only to gain it all back a few years later then lose most of it again, freaked out quit the job and taken a 3-month sabbatical, seen the mainland US get attacked by terrorists, been homeless, had a roommate that gets 2 hookers in the same night, knew a true Mass-Hole, seen a grown man stuff his junk into a wedding ring box for the old Dick-In-A-Box trick and still have room inside left over, surfed The Hollister Ranch, seen Oprah in person or had conversations with any Baldwins, thrown a good punch, yelled at a 10-year-old loudmouth surf kid who was yelling at me and felt like punching him, showed up to work at 8:00 am Vegas trade show still drunk from the night before, slept in the middle of a Vegas trade show booth, had to piece together a night at a trade show in Vegas from my strip club reciepts all of which I later expensed (thank you Bruce), had a stupid Facebook page, been to 20 year high school reunion, or had so much fun complaining about everything in my fucked up life via this retarded blog. Good times, assholes. And here's many more from 2010-2019.

Dr Bone

I've driven past this car so many times. I laugh my face off every time. This slick, sick bastard. Dr Bone plates on a pimp ass, James Bond looking Jaguar. I'm sure he's some orthopedic surgeon who gets some twisted pleasure outta callin himself the Doctor of Bonein. "Come see the good doctor, and let me cure what ailin ya", he says, with pile of boufont chesthair peeking over of the top of his seductively unbuttoned doctor's jacket. Cue the porn music, lean back in the chair, pour some Colt 45, and dim the lights. It's on.

The Urban Camping Experience

Brothers and sistas, I have some exciting news. I'm breaking up the 1 man hippy commune and grooving on down the road. No more lurking around bars and coffee shops until the cover of darkness affords me access to the Silver Bullet. No more waking up before dawn just to get off the property before the tenant wakes up and notices a squatter. And no more FREE camping. Unless I find a new killer pad, see you at Faria for the next couple weeks, man.

The McShit is back

I was drivin around LA, MAlibu and The Valley delivering orders yesterday listening to Mark & Brian on the radio. Funny shit. They were talking about the McRib. Saying it was strange that it keeping coming then going, appearing, then disappearing. They said it was some kind of cult thing. People get stoked when it's back. People were calling saying they were heavenly. So I had to try one of these fuckers, stat! $2.69 later I had one of these piles of shit resting on my lap. I pulled over along Washington Blvd in Marina Del Rey to really get down with myself. It was like opening the Ark of the Covenant in Raiders of the Lost Ark. GLORIOUS! BEHOLD! It's beautiful. First thing was the BBQ sauce. It was really fucking good. Probably full of hormones, MSG, and really bad shit. Next was the meat like patty of death. The shape of that thing was very wrong. It was like the mcnuggets that come in 3 distinct shapes every time. It was shaped like Madagascar with a tumor on each end and 3 mountain ranges. The texture was like a silky, crinkle cut Salsbury Steak that tasted like a mystery meat product. Not really rib like, yet not very burgery. It was good, It went down great and I could've shoved a couple more in the piehole, but I already felt dirty and cancerous. My gut was already asking "what the fuck?" And I continued to feel like ass the rest of the day. I doubt I will ever need one again. You should try one.

Dude is such a dick

Fucken Bill Dough, that lucky mother fucker. Dude got the best news ever last week...he's gettin shitcanned. And it's E-L N-I-N-O! His suit and tie job was killin him anyway, so good riddence. They blocked his internet so he couldn't receive the necessary porn and Facebook to make each day tollerable. It also looks like he couldn't time it any better with this monster storm headin our way. Now he has all the time in the world to eat at Burgerville, drink PBR, and slash some waves. Too bad Oregon has no surfing.

Mexico 2010

December's so rad. Next week I make the last 2 delivery runs of 2009. A few days on the road slapping high fives ain't so bad. Then a week of inventory bullshit followed by a mellow couple days before Christmas Vacation. This year I'm headin to God's Country....Sun Valley, Idaho. Nearly 2 weeks of catchin up with old friends while shooshin, eating, swillin, and chillin is in store for me. If I can find some other rallyers, I might hit up Jackson Hole and Soldier Mountain while I'm in the area. Then once I get back, the 2010 Paid Vacation fund gets a full refill. Next thing you know, it's Mexico in March. And all along we've got El Nino throwing storms at us every few days. Here's Bye Bye Bybee and I waiting for the rig at some Mexi Jiffy lube. Just days before the Pig Flu explosion and we're lurking directly in the hot zone. Maybe next year I won't come back.

half & half

So the Warren Miller Dynasty flick wasn't so bad. Nothing great. It didn't piss me off, so that's good. But it was once again, predictable. The editing nearly pissed me off, by just barely escapes my wrath this time. Usually they go real slo-mo and show one turn or don't show the landing. This time they had a few full runs mixed in with lots of short clips. Many classic fottage from the 40's & 50's and shit. Lots of skiers wigglin, but very little shreddin. Probably a 95/5 ratio, shred to wiggle. The shred shown was decent, but by no means epic. It's as if WM wants to continue with the 1993 era that all about baggy, rave style pants, wide stances, and angry shooshers. Also, I wanna strangle that little 9 year old rat that rides for Burton. She already needs to get punched. Hard. Overall, I give it a 5 out of 10 mainly for it's big mountains, production quality, and pow shots. I also liked the basic story lines. They're only skiers, so nothing deep except for the China bit. It's just dudes riding shit, living a great life, having fun.

Speaking of fun, I haven't said it lately, but day jobs SUCK BIG HAIRY DONG. It's the antitheseis of living a great life and having fun. That's basically what kept going through my mind during the flim. Every asshole who's ever lived in a ski town then went back to the real world has said..."they were the best years of my life". Fuck that. I don't understand why the best years have to end while your still living. Fuck. I may have fallen into that trap, kind of. I'm borderline real-world job guy. Hopefully next year I'll finally grow some balls and create a way to shred the hils for 6 months and the tropics the other 6, like I've always wanted. And still make some dinero. I've got the mountain job dialed in. Now I just need the Indo gig. Maybe I found a New Years resolution for once.

DyNASTY

The 2009 Warren Miller movie is in town tonight...WHOOPIE! I've been attending these things every year for about 25 years. First in Porkland, where Warren would get on stage and narrate the movie. Then Sun Valley, Idaho, where, in 1939, he lived in a teardrop trailer for the winter, shot rabbits to feed his face, and lived off ketchup soup and $39 the entire winter. Then in Seattle, and now Santa Barbara. Year after year, they seem to be getting shitier and shitier. Everything about the WM movies seem so stale and stuck in the 90's, before Teton Gravity, Mack Dawg, Robot Foot, Standard, etc, came along. It's mostly stupid 2 plankers, with a little snowshreddin thrown in. And usually, the shredding they include is boring as fuck. I hope they don't include some of the stupid aerial fags gettin all twisty and stuff. That shits gotta go the way of ballet skiing....dis-a-fuckin-pear. But attending the flicks is a habit. It just seems like the historic kickoff to ski season. Plus we don't get any of good shred movie premiers around here. So I'll plunk down the $20 and dream about traveling to giant mountains, with gnarly chutes, and endless fields and pillows of epic, fluffy pow. I'll start do math in my head to see if I can justify spending $6K on a weeklong heli trip to Alaska. It'll make me tear up a little when they say..."if you don't do it today, you'll be one year old when you do". I bought lottery tickets yesterday.

2 down-21 to go

Second night of urban camping in the Airstream was as rad as the first. 9 hours of solid sleep in a toasty warm, quiet, man-cave shaped like a Coors Light Silver Bullet. Actually, it's not really camping at all. But since I'm wedged between 2 hedges, a couple big water tanks, and a yard debris trailer, on a large estate in Summerland, it feels like camping. Only no fire pit, midgets, or strippers. My mission is to slip in after dark and leave before the people wake up and notice a random car parked. Keeping the lights low and the noise down. Shower at the gym and just come back for sleeping purposes. If they notice, no big deal. I'll fire up the truck and drag the mobile condo down to the beach and live at Faria. It's just easier and free this way. Oy!