Way back in January 2010, I was claiming all kinds of New Hefe shit. I was gonna be big and strong, not broken down and gimpy. At the risk of jinxing my shit, I'm gonna have to say...so far so good. Here's the rundown, north to south....
The neck is nice. The right shoulder has some bursitis issues that might get cortizone'd later. The back's all strong and stable. The relating sciatica is gone. The legs are geting stronger. The right knee is a little troubling, but not bad enough to whine at a doctor. The left fake hip is great, no problemo there. The left big toe's gout-like bullshit showed up briefly last week, but disappeared just as fast. With the exception of my face and random staph infections, all systems are GO for the Mexican Pharmaceutical and Slash Fest in 2 weeks. Just fine tuning the quiver is left.
Epic little pocket+burn from bro+nose of board=7 stitches. Fucken Fauk Hawk Bro whose name I can't remember. The good news is that my eyeball is intact. At first I thought I had scooped it right out. The board's nose point-of-impacted upside my grill and slid into my eye socket. I'm betting I get a nice little shiner in a couple days. No vicoden to ease the pain.
Victim...notice the fuckedupness About an hour ago I got home from the world's greatest movie, Hot Tub Time Machine. I wanna party with those dudes. So I get home and hunker down with a nice bowl of granola and the cunpooter. You know, the normal saturday night. And I think to myself...it's sure gonna be a mellow boring night. Then FUCKIN WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM! WHAT THE FUCK? IS IT TIME TO GRAB THE ASSAULT RIFLE AND UNLEASH THE FURY? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? SHOULD I HIDE THE COKE? DID A PLANE CRASH INTO MY SHITTY FUCKING APARTMENT COMPLEX? AM I GONNA SEE DEAD PEOPLE? All sorts of crap is racing through my mind. I jump up, look out the window down towards the street and see some truck trying to drive away form the scene of a tremendous three car pileup. But his whole front end is smashed to his dash. And his right front tire ain't rollin. The tire is just dragging along the street. His axle all done fucked up. He's tryin to make a getaway, but he's leavin a streak down the street. We give a slow, OJ Simpson chase because he's barely moving and the drunk lives just one block over and one block up. The fuzz arrives...he falls all over during the tests...and they haul his staggering boozy ass to jail. It was quite obvious what had happened. He had been driving along and failed to avoid 2 unoccupied parked cars. One poor red Chrysler is FUBAR.
Just when I start whining about my immune system that's filled with AIDS and Ebola, I hear news that makes me think my life ain't so bad. Back in Sun Valley Idaho, there's a benefit tonight for a friend's brother who's battling a systemic infection. Dude had some crippling back pain that got extreme, called 911, got MRI, found pockets of infection, life flighted to Boise, CT scan found six more pockets of death. 7 surgeries later and 2 months bedridden in hospital on IV antiobiotics he's escaped death so far. The more I read about Staph infections the more I'm freaked out. Don't fucking touch me...any of you filthy creeps. HFL bitch.
Oh, and it looks like we might get some really fun sized waves out there the next few days. Let's party...from a distance.
Keep off the junk, unless you've got the good stuff. I'm back on the junk, but it ain't for fun. I'm infected with the MRSA again. My shits all gangly green. Had another pimple zit lookin thing on my leg and knew right away that I was fucked. This is #3 since last September. I'm horkin the strong shit from the get go...Rifampin and Doxycyclene. I may go in and demand a shot of the nuclear bomb antibiotic called Vancomycin. I'm sick of being a carrier. But we slashed fun surf last night and lots more today. Wahhooooooooo!!
Aaaaaaand....we're off. Cycling season started for me last weekend because of the flat surf. One day on the saddle so far and the legs felt great spinning along. This now means several months of pain, spandex, grueling hill climbs, and yelling at dickhead motorists. Awesome!
Attempted muay thai clench to crappy spinning back fist at :37...
Today's post has absolutely nothing do with that fat pig from yesterday, it's purely coincidence that today is Bill Dough's birthday. I think he's about 44 or 45 years young, Happy Birthday bro. May you get all the beef and bacon you've been dreaming about. Born and fed near Lake Minnetonka, he's currently keepin it real without cable TV or a full time jobby job in a Portland, Oregon suburb. After many frustrating foam rides, this dude was a witness to my very first down-the-line at Shy Shy beach in Warshington. He reminded recently that we also peeped our buddy's girlfriend's spectacular titties that day. So it was really a win-win for me.
Recently, it's been super easy to point out the shit that pisses me off or disgusts me. The innernets been blowing up with tales of idiots and assholes. Now comes this epitome of why the world hates America. This Donna Simpson broad has the goal is to be the fattest, sweatiest, ugliest, laziest piece of shit ever. We're all disgusted. If you're not, you should be you sick twisted swine. She's got more fat between her teeth than the entire wretched nation of Haiti. But I gotta like her gumption. Donna's stuffing her piehole with everything she can get her stumpy little mitts on. Who hasn't dreamt of spending a day in bed, naked with several pounds of bacon? But we've got a little thing called THE WILL TO FUCKING LIVE!!! She's systematically cleaning out the potato chip ailses on the entire Eastern Seaboard. Nom nom nom. Shockingly, she lists eating, going to restaurants, and being fed as her hobbies. I guess walkin, breathing, and being able to wipe your own ass aren't some of them. She's roped in some little 150lb chubby chaser named Phillipe to get the dirty work done down unda. Geesh. No doubt his co-workers laugh at that poor sap. I'll take the under on her reaching her kids 10th birthday.
make luuuuuuuv to the camera, baby...
I'm just gonna scoot down to the sore and grab aaaallll the potato chips..
You wanna read a wicked funny tale about how some folically challenged, lactose intollerant, east coast BMX asshole heads west and ends up marrying a human female, sprouting 2 rats, and living the dream running a worldwide snowboard conglomerate? Click the linkage below. Maybe if you don't know him, you won't find it as funny as I did. During 2000-2003, he was the comedy show at Northwave North America (in it's prime). I think he was technically my boss. Maybe it was Gumby. Fuck I don't know. I was up to my broken collar bone in warranty issues, Phenix jackets, and booze. So it's all kind of a blur. I had what some would call a "breakdown", but I prefer to call it a sabbatical. I quit the jobby job, left Seattle, and drank...oops, I mean surfed...heavily in Costa Rica for 3 months. And now, here I am. All better.
Last weekend I saw some full-on assclown retard rockin the headphones out in the lineup. Dude couldn't barely paddle, but damm if he couldn't accessorize well. Must've had the Japanese Motors maxed out while the rest of us surfed. At the risk of sounding like a smelly hippy, can't you assholes enjoy the beautiful sounds of mother nature instead of always listening to crap? I understand rockin it at the gym or whatnot. But cruizing on the bike, shredding the gnar, or whatever, the sweat rush of wind and water flowing through your long, wavy, blond, scarlet begonia tucked hair is so groovy, man. Are you really so bored with nature? Plus you can hear imminent danger and react accordingly. Like...say...duck at the waist and let a plane fly over you and make an emergency landing. Instead, runners are getting landed on by the airplanes and kids are getting run over by trains...cuz they didn't hear them coming. Are your for real? Didn't hear an airplane rattling your fucking skull apart six feet above your earbudz, bud? There's no fucking stealth-like Prius of planes or locomotives, they all loud as fuuuuuuuck. "Whap Pap, sinner!" Says the heavy hand of the Lord as it reaps it's terrible vengence upon thee. Thyne herd hath been thinned.
Vegas is such a horrible rotten shithole. I really hope I never go back there for any reason ever again. No need for me to head to a desert to prove I can drink 43 gallons of booze. No necessito. I am pefectly able to get wasted and hork the goofball off some skanky hooker's ass crack here in Santa Barbara, if that's really what I need to do. So last summer, instead of wasting my dinero the old fashioned way, Indian Casinos, I decided to get a little more serious with the real casino...Wall Street. Lots of shit hitting all time lows equals lots of opportunity. Plus I had plenty of time for researching at my desk. I've been on a decent roll with a bunch of buying low/selling high. All just plain luck, really. Today, via Quiksilver, I've cashed out my chips with enough to cover both of 2010's surf vacations to Mexico and Bali, and I'm pretty stoked. These trips ain't nothing extravigant. Just dirtbaggin surf trips to get my wiggle on in tropical waters. Now it's time to parlay that shit? The Chumash tonight? Who's holding?
That last week of wind of stirred up some ice cubes and brought down the water temps to the Cold As Fuck range. My shit was freezing last night. I thought I was being a big crysack as I was sqeezing into the 4/3 in the porking lot. Felt like it was little overkill. El Nino's been keeping it super warm all winter. I haven't needed anything more than the 3/2. Lots of days I could've gotten away with a spring suit. I slapped on the booties and waddled out. Lots of fun, lots of pockets. I needed every bit of that neoprene to keep my grissle warm. I was defintely NOT toasty. Hands were actually cramping into useless, shovel-like structures. Water temps in the low 50's are uncommon around there parts. Use the purple wax. Hope it warms up soon so we can jump back in the three/two and get to yelling at folks properly.
There ain't shit going on today. Just sunny and windy. After an incredible 2+ month run, the surf's been laggin for a few weeks now. They've postponed the Rincon Classic a few times already trying to find a decent swell window. Wind and weather have been screwing up anything that's been coming through. We're gonna need something STAT before everybody starts freaking again. Including me. The crowds have been huge this winter. And it seems like these crowds have no respect for each other. Just a little bit would be nice. I've been surfing some less-inhabited, shitter waves to avoid the bullshit as much as possible. Sometimes it's impossible to get away from. I'll take shittier waves and less clowns. Spring is almost here, though. Day light savings time is next week, which means tons of after work surf. Most of the a-holes will be "over it" soon. And we'll get plenty late winter peelers. It's gonna be fun.
Snowboarding is fun. After slothing most of the day on saturday, I needed to get my shit together and find something fun to do on sunday. Being a weekend warrior for the most part, I only have two full days a week to cram in the gnar. It came down to shredding Mt Baldy. Solo mission. Up at 5am, coffee, and on the 101 south by 5:30 am. Rolling past Rincon in the moonlight it looked like mellow peelers were rolling through. I almost turned around to avoid SoCal traffic time. But I'm so extreme, I kept on target. Set the cruize at 75mph and made it to the porking lot by 7:30 am. Me and the Lezmobile passed many retards going 10 mph or chaining up after sliding out. I was getting my wiggle just right after 8am. The mountain was totally empty, so I just started lapping the shit. Wiggle, scrape, slash. Wiggle, scrape, slash. That little hill is pretty fun. Just the right vert for my weak ass legs before they cramp up. The snow was perfect for layin out big arcs and sprayin shit. Big PSIA LEVEL 3 arcing slashes are about all I've got these days. Popped a couple mini-airs, but my shit may have never broken 100% contact with snow. There were no double-didlo mccock & balls 7000's. Oh well. Back in the car, stopped forlunch and gas, and back in Santa Barbara by 3:30 pm where it's 70degrees. Coulda surfed if it wasn't completely blown out.
Last monday, I yelled at some stand up paddle dork. There were 3 of us surfing a little break. He kept paddling 5 feet on top of me every time. In cycling we call that move "the half wheel hell". In surfing we call it unacceptable. I'd move 5 feet further...and he'd paddle 5 feet more. After a couple times I said "dude, there's 3 fucking people out here...don't padle on top of me every fucking time". He of course didn't get it and said he had to be lined up with a certain spot each time. Yah fuck you buddy, so do the rest of us. Sometimes we don't get what we want. That's why I burned you, guy.
So it got me to thinking about the few times I've gotten worked up enough to yell at people while surfing. It's in the 5 or 6 range.
2006-Campus Point @ wave hoggin chick. Shitty day of surf,just needed one wave, but this chick kept paddling around everybody and wouldn't stop. People tell her to let a wave go by. Had to burn her.
2007-2009-Must've yelled at someone once or twice, but I can't remember particulars.
December 2009-Rincon @ asian, stink buggin guy-I didn't really yell, but I burned the fuck outta this dork and made him stew over it. I'd been sitting solo at the rivermouth for a while and wave appears. Dude walks up the beach, paddles out and immediately backpaddles me. But I'm determined. Super steep take off, grab rail right in front of him, tuck under lip and watch him flail about as he looses his leashless board. He paddles out later and says "you're (meaning me) not good enough to drop in on me (meaning him)". He's probably right. Calmly I say "oh, are you the guy that back paddled me?". He's can't think of an answer and mumbles loudly as he paddles off. His buddy comes over and immediately burns the fuck outta me a couple times. Buzzkill. I get it and leave.
January 2010-Rincon @ Daniel Graham-I didn't really yell. Instead I shoved his board after he back paddled me/fell off that wave/then snaked me on the very next wave. Suck it, pal.
February 2010-Mira Mar @ stupid stand up paddle lady-I was locked into a good wave for a long time and she tried to jump on it on the inside without looking. I shoved her board out the way. She yelled at me for not yelling at her. So I told her to "open your fucking eyes, retard".
I'm minding my own buisiness, making the sales run today. Nothing out of the ordinary until I'm cruizin up Venice Blvd. Off in the distance, somthing is shiney, green, and swerving in and out of traffic. So I quickly reach for the camera of course. It's my usual reaction in time of danger....quick get this shit on film!!!!! And it is Venice afterall, so there's a good chance it's something fucked up. Sure as shit, there it is pedaling his ass off towards la playa for a long day of boozin and smokin. Even bums are getting into the tight pants craze. Am I next?
So we've all seen the video of Epic Beard Man smash Amber Lamp's face. I'm loving that first, straight left he lands upside dude's grill. Devestating from the get-go. Tough to recover when half your face springs a massive leak after the first punch. It's great when a bully gets beat down and ends up in pathetic heap. Now somebody's put together this 70's remix...
Fuckin road rage man. One day I'm killing things above my buddies no-fly zone, the next day some asshole tries to run me off the road. He came out of nowhere and was hauling ass in the emergency lane on the drivers side. I noticed him when my ass end broke loose a little. He had clipped my back left bumper. It was definitely intentional. I have no idea what it was about but he was flippin his lid when he swerved around me and passed me on the right. Now here's the problem....I've got his license number and description. I called the California Highway Fuzz and they said it's just an insurance issue since nobody was hurt. So if I contact my insurance, I've got all kinds of hassle for a minor repair. I'm not even sure I want to dick around with it. Fuck.
