Decisions decisons. I just can't decide what to focus today's bullshit towards. Should I go with...
a)Motherfucking Tron video game from 1982
"Fuck L Ron Hubbard and
Fuck all his clones.
Fuck all these gun-toting
Hip gangster wannabes.
Fuck retro anything.
Fuck your tattoos.
Fuck all you junkies and
Fuck your short memory.
Fuck smiley glad-hands
With hidden agendas.
Fuck these dysfunctional,
c)Me on vacation.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
This is the big morning I've been waiting for. Time to battle the ticket I got while riding my bicycle. Let me repeat....BICYCLE. I'm sticking it to the man right now at the Superior Court Of California, County of Santa Barbara. Check in time is 8:30. It's the classic struggle of Good(myself) against evil(that cocksucker, officer C W Kamin). Mano y mano.
I am officially a gigantic pussy on the stand. The fuzz had it mostly right, I agreed somewhat, explained that I didn't want to die wearing spandex and Italian shoes, and was found VERY guilty. I lose. But I also get a $250 bail reduction, got away from the desk for a morning, and I wasted some fuckhead cop's time. A little ying in my yang.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Whoo hoo! Feeling an early onset of job rage for 2010. The usual autumn cubicle hate has already begun and it's only mid-summer. Boring fucking desk job is destryoing me yet building my future. Mental battle is overwhelming. The urge to explode, throw shit, break things, and run away to the tropics to get completely off the grid wearing a loin cloth is overwhelming. Struggling to focus now. Must fight. Got to soldier on. Need waves.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
In the race to build the better death trap, back in the 70's some coked-out disco inferno decided to give the common Schwinn Krate an extra joint. Not dope, they added an extra pivot directly under your taint. Instead of stability, they thought it wise for the frame to be as stiff as wilted celery. Why not let the ass-end of the rig whip around on the edge of control? In this current time of Political Correctness and pussification, this design marvel would never get mass produced because part of the fun is jack-knifing and smashing the shit outta your shins. That's why I'm starting the hunt. There's gotta be one show up on Craigslist just fucking begging for me to crush myself trying to master the "cloverleaf".
I always ask myself...What Would Jimmy Osmond Do?
Monday, July 26, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Every once once in a while you do the right thing, you're a good person, and life treats you to something special. Well last night, nearly 9 long months of struggling paid off for me bigtime. We got some Cox. The cable TV is hooked up. It's a beautiful fucking thing. I love the idiot box, man. It will increase my hermitability by about 300%. Last night after stupidly grinning to myself for a while, then making a quick phone call to a highly distracted Tonto, I gave the couch a trial run of slothing. I watched about an hour of nothing but fell asleep right before the big climb up Torumalet. The leg-busting hillclimb I've be stoked to watch for months. Thank god for Youtube.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
My favorite teriyaki restaurant of all time is Yasuko's in Seattle. Big juicy heaps of succulent pork or chicken over a bed of rice drizzled with sauce along with a small pile of deliciously marinated cabbage to keep the pipes clean. I used to score that shit nightly. I love teriyaki. I also love Guayaki. It's yerba matte. That's tea. It's been helping me avoid napping in the afternoon. Yah sure, it's all hippy with the Fair Trade and Organic marketing scam. But more importantly...it brings on the afternoon sweats cuz it's got a shit ton of caffeine. Make it part of your training table. It's the beverage of champions.
Monday, July 19, 2010
There's been a bit of a lull around Recluse Central. Nothing going on really. Surfed The Ranch yesterday, but not much for waves. Being in the water is always fun, but it wasn't anything outstanding. With all my extra free time I don't know what to do with myself. I've been hitting the road cycling hard and stinking up the gym. I'm a world class sweater these days. We had a little heatwave, so I've been out bronzing the fat. And I've also been trying to figure out life...unsuccessfully. So it's now monday, I'm back at the desk, plugged into the soul sucking machine. We have some waves coming this week, so cool shit will start happening again. I need it. Really bad.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Fucking desk jobs...don't ever get one. They are the worst. Sure, steady cheese and a future is nice, but it sucks your soul dry, like a mudguppy in a desert. One of the few enjoyable things to look forward to is WCT webcasts. Pro jocks, slashing waves and getting pitted so pitted at epic locations. All delivered to my desk throught the magic of the intenet, glowing a foot from my face. Warming my innerds. Filling me with joy. Making me whole again. Fantasy Surfer makes it even better. We've had 2 long months between the last contest and this one, and I'm fired up. Nap time is over, let's get it on. J-Bay starts thursday and 8 foot swell is predicted. My team is set to dominate...Kelly(the Champ), Mick(fastest surfer alive), Jordy(strong as an Ox), Dane(world's most exciting surfer), Andy(if he can keep off the Colmbian Marching Powder), Dusty(Hawaiian), Simpo(dark horse), and Sean Holmes(local boy). Don't go cheatin and copy my team.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
I spent the last couple days as a slave to The Man. I was road ragin in San Diego and repping my balls off. Even ran into Douchebag McGregor and again forgot to get his actual name. The timing for this delivery run was perfect to make a slight detour to pick up the new shred stick that I ordered a couple months back. Hank Warner shaped me up one of Terry Fitzgerald's Hot Buttered Surfboards Modern Drifta. I'm sofa king stoked on how it came out. These used to be only available in Australia, but Hank picked up the US licensing. Having never seen a Drita in person, just in videos and mags, I didn't know what to expect. It's got some funky wing like things right by the sdiebitters that look like some gnarly-ass eagle talons for mega gripping green room walls. It's overall a bit thicker at 2.8, and the nose is a big stump. Can't wait for the next swell to christen this bitch.
Big Red(Classic Drifta) makes an appearance at 1:55...
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Today's hatred is focused like a fucking laser beam directly on the retards at the California Department of Motor Vehicles. Schwarzeneggar seems like a genius compared to you fuckwits, no wonder he shitcanned thousands of you then dropped the remaining fuckers' salaries to minimum wage. But minimum wage is double what you inbred, 3rd grade educated, Walmart shopping, assholes deserve. You jerks are the absolute unemployable worst, except you managed to get hired by the State of California. Great! Now we're responsible for you. If you asshats don't know the difference between "mailing" address and "physical" address, find someone who does. This state is a shitpile on incompetence. And your fucking hold music makes me wanna kick midgets.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Epic tube time yesterday. Spent a few hours on a gloomy day-off shredding a right point break between Santa Barbara and Ventura with basically a peak and a reeling sandbar all to myself. Logged some time in the green room, which is rare for me, and took lots of beatings, too. The bottom dropped out a few times at some critical junctures and I got drilled into the sand. Stoked on my self-shaped board fitting into pockets after late, grab rail drops. Foamballs make you go faster.
On a side note...I need to $ell an Audi Convertible for a buddy and makes some cheese. Who needs a nice new/used rig? The thing is well cared for and in great shape for $14K. It's perfect for a divorcee, hot chick, mid-life crisis victim, or homo dude. Tonto...you listening?
Friday, July 2, 2010
Since I've been cycling a bit more these days, I'm in need of new gear. My circa 2001 things are wearing thin, I ain't gettin the needed support, and stuff's about to flop out. It's been a long time since I've been in the market for cycling shorts. Back in the day, we were gay enough because we rode in spandex shorts. Shaved legs and tights were bad enough. Now they've completely emasculated us and stripped us of every last shred of dignity by making it acceptable for dudes to wear bibs. Strapy meshy suspenders and all. Next thing you know we'll be wearing Aerodynamic Racing Manzeers and Bros. As I investigate purchasing $200 new shorts, it's become apparent that if you're a serious roadie you're now expected to rock the bibs. Like it's cool and shit. Fuck that. I'm staying old school. Spandex short shorts for life, BITCHES!
Thursday, July 1, 2010
-Dinosaurs frolick and hump.
-More dinosaurs humping.
-Dirty humping dinosaurs get crushed by meteor.
-Dinosaurs turn into oil.
-Oil sucked out of ground by Arabs, Venezuelans, and Sarah Palin.
-Oil magically turns into paraffin.
-Paraffin mixed with top secret goo to create Worlds #1 Greatest surf wax in 1972.
-Surf Wax retails for $1 in 1990.
-Surf Wax still retails $1 in 2010.
-Surf Wax Coporate Desk Monkey gets phonecalls all day long from surf shops complaining that rise in wax wholesale prices will drastically cut into Tavarua trip funds because said shops can't charge more for wax for fear of another great surfer revolt like in 1986.
-SWCDM epathizes and consoles, but would like to tell people to grow a pair.
-SWCDM needs surf trip again or might lose mind.