Archive for August, 2011

Despite one of the worst summers of surfing in recent California history I still managed to bring my surfing back up to speed considering the crapper it took back in June (see blog: Oh That Summertime for more details).  In July I was determined to fall back in love with surfing again.  I found myself for the most part done with my whiny ass self pity and back to my roots: SURFING!!!  I had a few surfing adventures including a trip up north to Surf Beach (see blog: Return to Surf Beach for that story).  I battled the absurd crowds for a few days in Orange County surfing Lower Trestles (see blog: Orange County Can Keep Lowers for that story) and I experienced the adventure of the summer, maybe the year, sailing out with a buddy of mine to the Channel Islands (See blogs: A Sea Going Voyage, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 for that epic tale).

All I can say is that the surf gods gave me lemons and I not only made lemonade, but lemon meringue pie too.  Below are the stats and stand out sessions from July.  Oh, did I mention Rincon broke legit a few times as well?

Number of Session: 23
Days Surfed: 19

Time Spent in the Water: 44 hours
Number of Waves surfed: 634
Waves Surfed Per Hour: 14

 Spots Surfed:

New Jetty: 5
Emma Wood: 4
Rincon: 3
Lower Trestles: 3
Fruit Stands: 2
River Mouth: 2
Mesa Lane: 2
Surf Beach: 1
Channel Islands: 1

Top 3 Sessions:

3. 7/10/11 PM Session: 2-4+ft, Fruit Stands
Time in Water: 1.5 hrs
Waves Surfed: 33
Fruits stands is sort of a secret spot on the Oxnard/Ventura border that everyone knows about but thanks to an inconvenient hike  and no easy way to check it the place is seldom surfed.  This was actually the first time I ever surfed the spot always opting for the more easy access waves.  My boy Ryan called me and said there were killable little bowls coming through and surf enough the place was a fucking chest to head high skate park.  It was a little windy but for a 45 minute window I had a blast.  Did I mention Ryan and I had he whole place to ourselves on a beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon?

2. 7/5/11 AM Session: 1-3+ft, Rincon
Time in Water: 1hr 45mins
Waves Surfed: 25
Rincon in July!?!???!! I know its crazy.  I heard rumors all weekend that there had been been waves at the ‘Con and not just the usual little long board waves typical of summer, but actual short board-able waves.  This morning with the near negative low tide and some time for a change I thought I would give it a look.  Sure enough there were really fun waist to chest high waves coming through.  I was pumped.  I always forget how good Rincon is, even on the bad days.  I spent the entire session up at Low Indicator and High River Mouth.  If it were winter I would not have even entertained the session but in summertime with near piss warm water and 80 degree sunny weather, why not.  I was burning up in my 4/3 and almost shedded it for the trunks I had in the car.   Have I mentioned how much I love Rincon on this blog yet?  One thing is that will always hold true is that she will never leave me for some unworthy dufuss.  Yeah she is a whore, but she always sets aside her best for me.

1. 7/29/11 AM Session: 4-6+ft, Some Where in the Channel Islands
Time In Water: 4 hrs
Waves Surfed: 39
See Blog: A Sea Going Voyage:  Part II; Quality Ocean Time for details and See Blog: A Sea Going Voyage Part III; I Didn’t Expect that to Happen. 

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This weeks UCB makes a winner of John Mauriello who inadvertently made a suggestion on yesterday’s book club blog and spurred on an entire new segment I would like to call Chris’ Notes.  You remember back in high school and even in college when you would pick up those twenty page summaries of classics and used them to cheat with instead of reading the actual book.  I know I did.  I love reading, but when you have to read a novel or two a week it gets hectic.

So as most of you know in the Book Club portion of this blog I always write a summary of my feelings on the former book each time there is a new entry.  John had asked just recently with the Oliver Twist that I write a summary about the actual story.  I got to thinking that would make a most splendid new segment.  Instead of Cliff’s notes which may actual enhance your literary enlightenment of a novel we will have Chris’ Notes that will for sure cause you to fail if you use it as your primary resource.  John gets 2 points since his suggestion will become a new segment.

Oliver Twist, Charles Dickens

Oliver Twist is about this orphan who is born in a Christian workhouse, a bastard child from an unidentified mother.  She dies in child birth leaving him at the mercy of this corrupt place of charity that over works and starves the poor, while the parish heads rape the system.  Upon his mother’s death she bestowed one of the nurses with a locket and some other proofs of Oliver’s birthright, which get stolen and pawned by another nurse.

From infancy to kinder years Oliver is reared by the forceful and neglectful care of this bullshit despicable old lady who profits on starving orphans. He comes of age and is brought back to the workhouse where his life just mildly improves. The modus operandi of the house being to slowly starve the poor while working them to the bone.  Nothing but good wholesome Christian values being dished out there.

One day after being forcefully threatened by an older boy Oliver asks for seconds of the meager gruel that is dished out during lunch time.  “Please sir may I have some more?” For this heinous act he is sternly beaten and a ransom is put out to any tradesman who will apprentice the boy.  He gets picked up by the local coffin maker who sees in Oliver’s eyes a kind gentle soul.

Oliver is very happy to be put to a useful cause and gives his all to his new trade.  Unfortunately the coffin maker’s other apprentice this douche bag Noah Claypole feels threatened by Oliver’s eagerness to learn and winning of the boss’ favoritism.  Claypole frames the poor boy claiming he beat him up and the cleaning girl, Charlotte, even though Noah is twice the size of Oliver.  Twist is severely punished for his misdoings and decides to escape and make a run for London first chance he gets.

On his way to London he meets up with a boy around his age, John Dawkins or better known as the “The Artul Dodger” for his impeccable feats as a pickpocket.  Dodger recruits Oliver, by making him think he is going to a good home.  In reality it is basically an 18th century London version of a Detroit crack house where Oliver is unknowingly taught the trade of thievery by the ringleader of the gang, a Jew who goes by the name of Fagin.

Deciding Oliver is ready for the streets, Fagin sends him out with Dodger and another pickpocket, Charlie Bates.  When Oliver observes what is really going on he is appalled (a result of his predestined genuine quality) that his new friends are ruthless thieves.  In his shock he is mistaken for the actual perpetrator.  He flees the scene and is chased by an angry mob insinuated by both Bates and The Artful.  He is caught up with, tackled beaten then arrested.

Beaten so bad he can hardly walk he is taken in front of the magistrate.  The gentleman he is the victim, a Mr. Brownlow sees in Oliver’s eyes that he could not have been the one who robbed him and decides not to press charges, instead taking the boy home with him where he is nursed back to health.

Meanwhile Fagin, heartbroken with the loss of his new apprentice sends a pickpocket turned prostitute Nancy out to find the kid.  Once cured of his illness/injures Brownlow seeks a meeting with Oliver to procure his story, being that Oliver resembles the likeness of a close childhood friend of his.  Before getting the entire story, Brownlow sends Oliver on an errand to return some books to the Library and get some bread as a show of his trust.

In the process Nancy the little whore she is kidnaps Twist and brings him back to Fagin.  This other sinister Gentleman, Monks appoints Oliver along with this bad ass criminal Bill Sikes and his gang to go rob these rich people in the country.  The owners of the house are suppose to be in the country on holiday.  Turns out the whole thing was a set up and Oliver gets shot in the chaos of the fudged robbery.  Sikes drags the kid with him for a few miles before leaving him for dead in a ditch.  Some how Oliver survives and manages to make his way back to exact house he was forced to rob.

He is found passed out on the front lawn and is taken in by the Maylie’s.  At first the gentlemen of the house wish to turn him over the police till they are convinced otherwise by Rose and her Aunt that the boy was too gentle to ever commit a crime.  They nurse him back to health and then bring him with them to the country where he is educated.  In the process Rose is taken ill and nearly dies.  Upon her survival she is proposed marriage by Harry Maylie, whom she rejects in order to save his bright political career, being of an illegitimate birth herself.

Time passes and all the while Oliver is getting well groomed and educated by his new benefactors.  Him and the Maylies end up in London where Oliver searches for Brownlow to make known to him the particulars of his unfortunate disappearance.  At the same time Nancy the slut who captured Oliver from Brownlow finds news of some misdoings towards Oliver by Fagin, Sikes and Monks.  Unable to live with herself for the wrongs she brought to Oliver, she seeks out Rose and explains to her that Monks destroyed some artifacts that proved Oliver is of noble blood and entitled to an inheritance.

With this knowledge Rose and Oliver call upon Brownlow who is overjoyed to be reunited with his young countenance.  Brownlow hears the story and immediately puts the mystery to pasture.  As it turns out Monks is Oliver’s half brother and owed half his fortune to Oliver when his being alive was made known unless Oliver had turned to a life of crime.  This is the reason Monks set up Twist and Sikes at the Maylie house in the first place.  It also turns out Rose is Oliver’s aunt and Brownlow was entrusted by Oliver’s father to make sure he go his share of the inheritance that was to be split between him and Monks by a letter sent to him shortly after Oliver’s father’s death.

With the fear of being brought to the gallows Monks signs a confession and agreement to pay Oliver half his fortune and leave England all together.  In the meantime while all this was happening.  Sikes brutally murders Nancy when Fagin has Noah Claypole (that’s right the old apprentice, now turned thief) follow her to disclose the information she gave Rose about Oliver.  As a result the whole gang gets busted.  Sikes accidentally hangs himself in attempt to escape an angry mob.

Fagin is hung for all his wrong doings, Dodger is hung as well although a few chapters earlier.  Harry Maylie denounces his position in life, opting to take up a parsonage at a small church in the country thus Marrying Rose.  Brownlow adopts Oliver and he moves there as well.  The tale ends with all of them happily passing their days in each other’s company.   I thought reading the book was exhausting, but summarizing a 600 page novel in less the 1500 words is just plain Masochistic.

Speaking of Masochism...

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Book XII: Gilead, Marilynne Robinson, 2004, 247 pages

I don’t know all that much about this novel.  I picked it up at a yard sale for around seventy five cents.  Its a bit more modern then what I am used to reading, but the book did win a Pulitzer.  A Pulitzer Prize is some serious shit in the literary world.  If a bunch of smart people over at Columbia University believe this novel is worth a read who am I to argue.  I guess we will find out.

Summary of Book XI, Oliver Twist:  

What a dreadful book this was.  Many of my literary friends had told me Oliver Twist was a tough book to stomach and a difficult read.  Countless other reading enthusiast told me they had picked it up and were unable to get through it.  Always being one to stick my hand in the fire and get burned to find out that its hot I decided to go for it.  All I can say is that reading this novel was exhausting, demoralizing, depressing, heart wrenching and down right despicable.  I love Dickens but this one was a bit too dark for even the likes of me.  I am talking chills up my spine.  It took me nearly four months to finish the thing.  I mean sure I have been a bit on the lazy side , but usually I make time to enjoy a good read.  If anyone actually read this one I would love to hear what your feelings on it were.

"Please sir, may I have some more"

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Where have I been you ask?  I really hope no one is posing this question.  There was a time when my life could have been like one of those “Where’s Waldo” books.  These days I am rather happily complacent (complacent is a stretch) at my quaint Santa Barbara home.  To be honest I am rather happy, at least the happiest version of Chris Lisanti I have yet to know.

For the last seven days I have been running amuck back in my old stomping grounds Manasquan, NJ and the East Village, NYC.  Life is funny, five months ago if you told me I would be sitting in an airport terminal at Newark, NJ in August writing a recap blog I would have made some strange PHSSSSST type sound effect and cruised.  Here I am.


How did I get here?  It all started with a night of depression drinking followed by a series of parties.  That’s right every now and again my reckless lifestyle puts forth an opportunity.  I met this incredibly nice guy, Ken at a party of a mutual friend.  We got to talking and next thing I know he was calling me to work on some music with him for this original play he was looking to put on over the summer.

At first I was hesitant, but I read the script and fell in love with the play, well I think it is the last few lines that always get me all choked up being a hopeless romantic despite my cavalier façade of a womanizer.  Then Ken played me some of the music and I was sold.  He had written one of the most fun contemporary scores I have ever heard for a show.  Being rather burnt out on doing any work what so ever for musical theatre this was saying a great deal.  I signed on not quite knowing what I was getting myself into.

I showed up to this potluck dinner at this ridiculous mansion up in the hills of Montecito, immediately thinking I was in the wrong place.  As usual I arrived about a half hour late.  I find it easier to walk into a party with everyone already there so I can case out the situation and make a stealthy escape if I find the scenario to be one of agitation.  Upon walking in the door I found myself being hugged by eight different people.

That was almost enough to send me running for the hills, but they seemed harmless enough and they were after all theatre people.  It was an amazing evening and the passion these young people had for their craft was mesmerizing to me.  They ended up sucking me in to their “family”, the Proximity family.  Being on my own again for the first time in two years it felt nice to belong to a group so full of goodness and love.

We delved into work and next thing I knew I found myself learning dance steps for a music video, on the beach dressed in all black running through the ocean like a banshee, playing saxophone at a benefit event in a group who’s style was deemed “electro-pop-funk” where I took the stage for the first time in eight years.  Then there were exhaustingly frustrating eight-hour rehearsals, tantrums, disagreements and finally the formation of a remarkable piece of work.

We ran three shows in Santa Barbara for a packed house and were well received.  I had friends in the audience who never even knew I played the sax and were blown away.  From Santa Barbara we were rushed out to NYC to do the show all over again in the East Village, the first time I would play in the city in ten years.  Life can be amazing at times.


 I took full advantage to of the opportunity.  I usually only get to see my family once a year at Christmas time.  The last time I was at the Jersey shore in the summer time was when I lived there four years prior.  I decided to build a few extra days in before the show to go spend some quality time with my folks and sister.  Truth be told I had been feeling a little bit home sick the last few months and wanted to remind myself why I left.

All I can say is that NJ is a hellhole.  Its hot and sticky even at 2am in the summer and then in the winter you freeze your ass off.  No thank you, I will take the predictable moderate climate of Santa Barbara any day.  The surf was flat the entire time yet some how I managed to break my toe while fucking around in knee high surf finless.   If you want to know more about my Jersey surf sessions visit the surflog.

It rained nonstop for two whole days and was deemed by the weather service a record rain fall for that time of year.  Seriously?  Last time I was home for Christmas I got dumped on by five feet of snow and was stuck inside for three days.  The last time I surfed in NJ before this trip I cut my foot open requiring eight mattress stitches and severed a tendon that never really healed correctly.  That is what you get when you don’t have medical insurance boys and girls.  I am telling you New Jersey hates me.

I did have a grand old time on the party scene, getting to pre game with my boys Kiefer and Greg P at his pad in Asbury, met up with my old roommate and downtown SB partner in crime Cory Kisiel, which lead to a black out, old habits die hard.  Kooky Kyle brought me by the Porch to catch up with none other then Bojangles and Scotty B.  My friend Micheala took me to some fun bar in Asbury that had plastic sand pails full of rum (that was a mistake).  Kooky, Val and I went to some bar in Avon that had tiny little 8oz beers for a $1 where I ended up getting absolutely sloshed for $13.

Kooky and I hit on some random girls just to show my sister what a lurk was all about.  I pretended to be from California, but it went horribly wrong.  As it turned out they knew me from when I lived in NJ and call me out. “Your name is Chris Lisanti right? Weren’t you a pro surfer?”  We slunked away defeated into the corner and had a laugh and half about it.  They were ugly anyway and lucky I even talked to them.  It was only to entertain Val who was nice enough to be my designated driver.  I have a woman I am seeing back in Santa Barbara right now who as far as I am concerned is far better looking, intelligent and straight up more amazing then anything Jersey could even try and temp me with.

I even ran into former Jerseyite Beth Anne, now living in Laguna, but was in town visiting her family as well.  As usual we exchanged the same words “I hate this place, can’t wait to go back to California”.  I bumped into former Lisanti Land character Jiggles, who I barely recognized thanks to a major weight loss.  I guess we should not call him Jiggles anymore.

Catching up with my family was as good as it ever could be.  Besides a few tiny scuffles my mother and I got on famously.  We had some quality walks on the beach, I cooked a few scrumptious dinners, and breakfasts, including banana fosters waffles.  I think everyone gained a few extra pounds on my stay.  My parents and I played a round off golf at the course I used to be the assistant greens keeper at (I asked if the same horse’s ass owned it and I could immediately tell by the look in the girl’s eyes who took our fare that it was, look for an odd jobs on that job one of theses days).  Apparently they have been practicing cause they stomped my ass.  I was easily fifteen strokes behind.  I think it is just that I play better high and the chronic in NJ sucks, on top of being highly illegal.

On my last day I even got to catch up with my good old friend and one of my very first minions, Sorbo.  If you remember back to the myspace.com days he was almost killed in a horrific motorcycle accident.  Since then I guess he has been just floundering trying to figure out his next step in life.  We ended up bombing some hills in the Brielle Cemetery together.  I had not skated that since I was in high school.  I gave him a passport to Lisanti Land and an open invitation.  I really hope he takes me up on it.  A little time out in my world I think will do him a bit of good.


The last time I was in New York City was also four years ago and my time and a good deal of my money was spent at these gnarly ultra private clubs in the meatpacking district.  I am talking about places with no sign that look like an abandoned building, but then were super luxurious inside.  This time I was there on business to help tell the story of Shandy Wilkes through the melodic prowess of my soprano saxophone.

The show ran from Thursday the 18th to Saturday the 20th at the Robert Moss Theatre in the Village.  Initially I was far from impressed by the capacity of the small sound stage.  As soon as I pulled out my horn and began to blow I fell in love with the room.  By far one of the best sounding spaces I have played in.

Taking the train in everyday was quite the three-hour adventure, driving from my parents’ home in Manasquan to Metro Park, 45 minutes.  Taking the train from Metro Park to Penn Station another 45 minutes, then finally walking from 32nd street to 4th street in the village around another thirty minutes or so.  It was fun for the three days I had to do it.  If I had to commute into the city every day like most workers do I would kill myself.

Friday night’s show went down in front of a packed house, standing room only at times.  I felt in my opinion it was the best I had seen the actors perform the show.  I was blown away and that is saying a lot for me.  Saturday I went into the city with my parents, where we met up with my aunt and ejoyed a nice Italian dinner before heading over to theatre.  It was the first time my parents have heard me play live in ten years.  They really enjoyed the show, although no comment was made about my personal playing either way.  From my mother that means it must have sounded good cause although not apt to give a complement she is the first to criticize.

All in all I would have to say it was one of the more enjoyable trips I have had back to my childhood home.  Still it is very nice to be back in California, which really feels like home to me. One thing I will say and maybe this is me getting sentimental in my old age is that I felt a bit sad to be leaving my family behind for another six months till Christmas.

A special thanks goes out to Micheala for filling Nick the Kook’s shoes in his absence, being in Chile, driving me to surf, lending me a board and helping me stay in the party.  Sorbo gets a salutation for helping me pack and ship some new threads I bought. For those of you who don’t know him, Sorbo is a master at the art of packing and shipping.  Kooky Kyle and Cory Kiesel for buying me one two many drinks and my folks for being decent to me.   And my boy Ryan back in California for holding down the fort.  Thanks everyone, with out you Lisanti Land would be not half as fun.

Here are some really terrible photos I took with my cell phone.  Enjoy and thanks for reading.

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Nick the Kook gets two points towards his UCB tally this quarter by wining this month’s Power of Ten, a new monthly bonus UCB segment here at surfingruinedmylife.net.  It was between him and Kooky, but Kooky’s topics were just for the most part too involved, many good enough for a stand alone blog.  Sorry Kooky, so sorry.  If your lost on what this is, basically you throw down ten one word or phrase topics and once a month I will pick one list and write a short answer style blog on each.  Only one list of ten per reader, per month please.  The Power of ten is worth two points.

1. Before We Had Cell Phones: I love cell phones. I think they are a great invention at the same time they piss off the fuck out of me.  I really hate the fact that anyone can get in touch with me anywhere at any given time and even worse they know that if I don’t answer more times then not I am blowing them off.  There was a time only about 10 to 12 years ago when cell phones were a rarity set aside for FBI agents and movie stars.  Back then calls to me sometimes went not returned for weeks.  Ahh, the good old days.

2.  People That Sing Too Much:  I don’t really know what this is pertaining to.  I mean Kook sings way to fucking much.  The guy always has some tune going in the water, in the car, walking down the street.  Fucking choirboy, which team are you playing for chief?  Then again I do my share of singing too.

3.  Should Kooky Get a Blog?:  Why shouldn’t he.  Everyone else I know seems to have one these days.  That is the beauty of the new bloging craze, any idiot can give his two cents on the internet and publish that bullshit for anyone to read.  Kind of like this website here, man that Chris Lisanti is a moron, I wish some one could put an end to his terrible blog.  But no one can. Ha ha ha ha ha ha.

4.  Dutch Oven: I used to have a Dutch Oven. I bought it at yard sale for like $12 bucks.  I cooked so much good shit  it was not even funny.  They are basically giant cast iron crock-pots.  Then one day I put it under the sink while it was still red hot and it cracked.  I was super bummed out.

5.  Surfing Naked: I have never done it.  Personally it seems to me that with all the wax and what not it would be a rather adverse experience.  There is this story about this crazy surfer from back in NJ, super devote hard core guy, and one hell of a wave rider.  As the story goes he had just got out of the water at Gunnerson’s, an incredible sand bottom right hand point when its on (this day it was on!) and was changing on the beach.  He saw the set of the day rolling in from way up the point.  Instead of admiring the perfection of the place from the beach this dude ripped off his towel and jumped back into the water, paddling into position just in time.  Turns out he got the wave of the day completely buck naked, getting barreled twice.  I guess it is all right since Gunny’s is a nude beach anyway.

6.  Organic Wax: Organic Wax sucks.  It does not stick to your board and does an even worse job of sticking to your feet.  Give me good old carnauba wax any day.

7.  Voting:  I don’t Vote.  I believe I address this issue every election day.  Long story short I don’t watch the news, don’t follow politics, have for the most part decided one useless liar is as good as the next one and until a candidate comes along I actually believe in I shall not cast a vote in any direction.  And yes I know that I am part of the problem.

8.  Best Cereal:  Hands down it’s Honey Bunches of Oats, any variety, although I find the original to be my favorite.  If I had to pick a second it is cinnamon toast crunch, but eating that every day would kill me.  Where as I feel Honey Bunches of Oats is at the very least a tad healthier?

9.  Income Taxes:  I like indirect taxes.  Sure I get mad every paycheck when it is like $100 bucks or so less then it ought to be.  At the same time I would much rather it that way then have to be responsible for figuring out how much I owe at the end of each month or year and save for it.  Plus I make so little money and live so far below the level of poverty that I get a full refund every year anyhow.

10.  First Website I Visit Other Then This Site and The Book: First site, the one my computer home page is set to is surfline.com.  The first and foremost priority in my life is knowing when and where my waves are at.  Not to mention keep up with the global surf gossip.

The exciting world of cooking with a Dutch Oven

Gunnerson’s on a small day. Just look at the potential of that point.

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I wrote this blog back on March 2nd 2009.  At the time I was living in an unofficial fraternity that I had started to enable myself to live rent free.  My ex-wife whom I wrote about last night in Feeling Awkward and I had split up only  a few months prior and I was for all extensive purposes drinking myself to death. This was initially published as a segment I used to call “Week in Review”, which is the equivalent of “News from Lisanti Land” now.  Initially it was a two parter, but I do not have part 2 currently at my disposal so you will just have to wait for it or got searching for it yourself.  I will tell you what, if you do find part 2 and are the first person to post the link in the comments it is worth 3 extra UCB points!  As always anything in red is added hindsight for this blog.

Well this week was a pretty big blur of a 6 day party fiasco, a ridiculous amount of surfing, a ton of visitors from the east coast and way, way, way, too much gnarl.  So I know I said I was going to take it easy on the party scene, but this week was a special exception.  Monday was my boy Brennan’s Birthday, Tuesday was Mardi Gras, then Scott got into town Wednesday and we had to celebrate, Thursday two friends of Cory’s came into town from Pennsylvania, and then it was Friday and Saturday so of course I had to keep on cruising.  Plus Pixie Rixon came up from San Diego to party on Saturday.  Rather then going day by day I’m just going to grab the highlights from the week.

Monday, Feb 23rd, afternoon:  After surfing some of the worst Rincon ever I was pretty much over surfing for the day and headed over to J7’s work shop to fix some boards.  3 hours later Brennan calls me and says he would be super amped  if he could surf a session on his birthday.  I tried to dissuade the guy knowing it was going to be on shore, super low tide and tiny.  Never a man to truly stomp on stoke we ended up cruising to C-street.

We get there and its like knee to waist high and side shore, but no one was out and there were a few lips that looked worthy.  We get out there and I soon realized wearing a 3/2 was a bad choice, the water was freezing and you know that once I get cold I just sit there.  Then there were these two little grommies who were constantly paddling me up the point add up all the adversities and I was pretty much over it.  Brennan got on my case about the whole little kids surfing circles around me thing so I made an effort in the last 30 minutes to school the kids which I did thanks to a 3 foot backside air on a knee high wave.

I got out of the water and my stomach was all cramped up.  These are not your average cramps.  Nope, these are those dreaded explosive diarrhea cramps.  Now I was surfing at the top of C-street and it was low tide leaving me a good 100 yards of rocks to walk over and then another 300 yard dash to the bathroom.  I charged that shit. I don’t think I have ever hustled that fast for anything in my life.  I get in the bathroom, the dirtiest public bathroom probably in all of Ventura County and rip my suit off as fast as humanly possible.  Of course I wore  the new Body Glove Vapor front zip, a very warm and comfortable suit but a bit on the difficult side to take on and off.  Not the sponsor plug, yeah I did my job back when I was a professional surfer.

I managed to get my suit down to my knees just in the nick of time before pissing out my asshole for a solid 15 minutes.  I mean I have had some pretty gnarly diarrhea before but this was crazy.   Straight up nothing but liquid was squirting out my hole.  To make matters worse I was dripping wet and freezing contributing to making this one of the top 3 worst bathroom experiences of my life (shit maybe I will write a blog about that on one of the free days).  Back in the myspace.com days I used to poorly attempt to adhere to a daily blog schedule.  It failed miserably.  I mean look how well I keep up with the UCB and that was suppose to be every Thursday.

Barley surviving I cleaned myself up, pulled back on my cold wet wet suit only to do a sorry walk of shame all the way to bottom free lot just above the pier.  I felt so violated and disgusted by the whole experience.  I got back to the car to a very jubilant Brennan ready to jive the shit out of me.  If it were not his birthday he definitely would have made it onto one of my lists.

I got dressed thinking the whole ordeal was over only to find out 5 minutes later as we are pulling out of the parking lot that the same dreaded cramps hit me again.  I was like dude we have to stop or I’m going to blow the seat out of my pants.  Luckily we were right across from the Habit Burger on Ventura Ave.  I got in there just as this haggard ass homeless lady was walking out.  I open the door and the bathroom is a mess, shit all over the place.

Clenching my ass closed with all my strength I quickly brought the toilet up to a bare bones level of cleanliness for me to sit on the seat.  Once again I took another ass piss.  While I’m in complete digestive agony this Mexican guy keeps banging on the door.  Finally after the 5th  time I scream at the dude that I was in the middle of the worst diarrhea of my life and to get off my fucken case.  Dude backed off.  Finally I guess I must have shitted all that was left in my stomach cause I was good to go, but the whole night out I was in constant fear of the shits coming back with a vengeance.  Luckily for me the whole ordeal was left behind in Ventura.

On a side note this whore I was seeing at the time ended up going home with my boy Brennan. Her excuse “It was his birthday Chris, everyone should get laid on their birthday”.  Somehow that did not make me feel much better.  At least I sort of had a hand in getting my boy laid.

 Wednesday Feb 24th 9pm:  While pre-gaming to go to the bar Face manages to pound 8 beers in a matter of 45 minutes.  Drunk as shit Scott, my Swedish neighbors and I persuade him to table dive through the pyramid of empties he build on the coffee table.  He goes for it belly flopping flat on the table after which I proceeded to poor beer all over his head.  From there he put on his dirt bike helmet while Scott and I hit him over the head with these two broken surfboards that I was going to hang on the wall.  Needless to say he was even more fun at the bar where I’m pretty sure he managed to hit on and aggravate every girl there.   I think one girl even slapped him across the face.  It was classic.



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First off let me apologize to everyone for the lack of writing this month.  In my defense things have been a bit crazy with the play opening, my New Jersey/New York trip/performance, breaking in a new roommate and some other incidents in my personal life I have yet to address here.  All I can say is I have been busy for me. This weeks UCB makes a winner of my boy Kiefer, whom I got good and shitty with Saturday night.  He asked, “What is the most awkward situation I can remember being in”.


Awkward situations! Awkward situations?  My whole life is a series of awkward situations usually brought on by bad decisions.  I never have been a very good decision maker after all.  As everyone knows when faced with a logical option I in most cases will choose the illogical.  The propagation being I always want to see, as I like to put it “what could happen”.  Thus is why we have so many entertaining stories and moments in Lisanti Land.


Believe me this system works both positive and negative. Back to awkwardness, I find just about every social situation I enter into to be an awkward situation.  It sounds absurd right?  Its true, my coping mechanism used to be to avoid them like the plague.  Then one day a few years back I realized I was letting life pass me by and decided to step up, dig down deep, find some self-confidence and grab the world by my hands.


I find my worst moments of awkwardness always seem to revolve around women I care about, particularly when I make a frail attempt at actualizing my innermost feelings.  During the end days of Adrienne there were plenty of awkward moments including when I found out she was cheating on me.  When I showed up and met the guy she was cheating with to see what I was losing out too.  When I decided to try and win her back while she clearly had already made up her mind.  There is nothing more awkward then watching the person you love walk past you, smile, say goodbye and then go off to be with another.


Truthfully I don’t really care to dawn on that moment of my life anymore.  Looking back I know it was silly to let another bring me to my knees.  Now my life is amazing and I am happier then I have ever been.  They have that expression “God closes a door and opens a window.  In my case he torn down a wall and I could not be more grateful.


Kiefer asked for a story of awkwardness and thus far I have just talked out of my ass.  I am going to tell about the first kiss between Sindia (my ex-wife for my new readers who have not been following since ’06, yeah this shit has been running for over five years now!!) and I.  Nostalgia is great and I think it may have been the most awkward I have ever felt in my entire life.


I had been hanging out with Sindia for about two months with the predisposed hope of us dating.  We were both really backward in the department of romance.  Myself I was still carrying a chip on my shoulder from the atrocities performed towards me thanks to my very first girlfriend and her because she had never really been romantically involved with another.  Strong feelings had grown between the two of us, but neither had brought them to contrition and things were getting very awkward as a result of the confusion.


Finally I had reached my breaking point and knew I just had to step up.  We met my father down in Trenton, NJ to go see this jazz combo play.  It was a fun show and a good time was had by all.  We drove back to the shore and the whole drive both of us were completely silent.  I was nervous the entire night and now full on in understanding that I had to tell her how I felt was a near basket case of nerves.  My hands were shaking so much that I had to clutch the steering wheel with them both in a death grip.


Sindia and I got back to the beach where she had parked her car. I think we must have surfed before going to the show.  We ended up having one of those lingering goodbyes where you basically say your leaving more then ten times but no one actually goes anywhere.  Conversation had hit a complete impasse and the both of us were just gazing into each other’s eyes.  It was a perfect moment for me to kiss here, that I stewed on for nearly 15 minutes.


In her frustration Sindia blurted out “so what is the deal between us anyway? Are we friends or more or what?”  “DAMN, she beat me to the punch” I thought.  By that point it was nearly 2am and there was surf.  I mean the whole time we were sitting there we could see giant walls of white water in the darkness.  My fight or flight instincts had taken over and flight was winning.


The larger half of me was pushing for me to jump back into my car, drive away and never call her again.  My face was so red with embarrassment that I had blown the perfect moment I could have passed for a turnip.  After about another very awkward five minutes I responded with some nearly inaudible dribble pertaining to the fact that I thought we should be more then friends, after which we hugged then had this terrible teeth knocking kiss.  That was followed up by an almost proper kiss.


We both sort of looked at each other as soon as it was done with a bit of awe that we let things get to that point.  Next morning we met up for a surf way later then we should have even though it was going off cause we kept each other up till 3am trying to express our feelings for one another.  There you have it, the most awkward I have ever felt in my entire life.


On a side note for anyone wondering: Sindia now lives in Whales, UK and is I believe a world renowned Scientist in the field of chemical paleo-oceanography or something to those regards.  I never quite got her actual field of specialization.  We broke up on mutual terms I guess around four years ago.  Our lives were just going in different directions.  We still keep in touch and from what I can infer she is doing very well for herself in both life and love.  I could not be any happier for her.


As for me well I don’t feel I need to fill you in considering I write about everything here on a daily basis.  If your lost there are over 485 blogs on this website alone and thousands on the old myspace blog.   Go nuts reading if you feel that inclined.  All I will say is that I too am happy.

Now that is an Awkward situation....

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That was probably one too many exclamations points, but then again there is proper reason for excitement.  Tonight is the opening night of the play I have been working on for the last month or so with the theatre group PROXIMITY.  You remember back in July when I was fundraising for this cause?  Well if you don’t we needed to raise $20,000 to get the show off the ground and into the theater, see I am Not a Whore and Im Calling Out to You for more details on that.  We got the money during our benefit show at Soho, read About Last Night for more on that one and have been since working very hard on putting the play together.

When I say very hard I mean it.  These folks have been practicing eight to twelve hours a day for the last month at least.  I did not have do even a quarter of the work they had to and just that little bit was exhausting.  Tonight is the culmination of all of our hard work, Opening night at the Center Stage Theater.  The show starts at 8pm and tickets are $20.  I can personally vouch for the validity of the  integrity of the performance and you have yours truly on the soprano saxophone, so you know you can’t go wrong.

Come and check us out tonight 8pm at the Center Stage Theater in Downtown Santa Barbara.  If you cannot make it tonight or love it so much you need to see it again Shandy Wilkes will be running Thursday (8/11) and Friday (8/12).  For my east coast friends you can catch us next weekend at the Robert Moss Theatre in NYC Aug 18-20.  Hope to see you there.  Don’t miss out on this wonderful opportunity to have a grand old time and support the arts.

Here are some videos for a sneak peak at what you will be missing if you do not come out:

Shandy Wilkes Promo: Burning Dance from Proximity Theatre Company on Vimeo.

Shandy Wilkes Promo from Proximity Theatre Company on Vimeo.

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Every year Santa Barbara throws a giant five day/night street party downtown for Fiesta.  It is basically our version of Mardi Gras, although we celebrate pretty hard for the real one in March too.  Ok, lets face it, Santa Barbara can celebrate a Wednesday hard.  It does not take much of an excuse to get this town made up of a majority of alcoholics to break it down.

Fiesta is the end all be all for the SB party scene.  A few years back there was this gang shooting down there.  I was trashed and just remember people stampeding past me screaming and yelling.  Then some cop tackled me screaming, “You have to get out of here its not safe”.  I was laughing the entire time.  There are some situations in life where being a bit faded works to one’s advantage or in my case a lot of bit faded.

After that year I took a few off from Fiesta.  During those years apparently there were stabbings and other gang related issues. Also ever since the shooting the town has stepped up they’re game having police everywhere.  The place looks like it is under marshal law.   It is definitely better then the alternative when the gangs used to always ruin everything.

First Night

This year being that my new roommate had never experienced a Fiesta before I felt it my personal duty to show the guy a fun time.  I had just got out of a three hour band rehearsal and for whatever reason felt like a night of heavy drinking.  I got home busted out the handle of rum in my freezer and emptied it.  Then on the walk down I stopped by JJ’s this ghetto ass liquor store and filled my pockets with eight little airplane bottles of Sailor Jerry’s.

I gave my Roommate, Nick, two and downed the rest through out the night.  By 11pm I was gone, so drunk.  I found myself stumbling around the Presidio, lost Nick, ran into my friend Ryan from OC and some other guys I used to roll with and was dragged into the beer Garden.  After that I have no recollection of anything else that happened.  I thought I was gone for 15 minutes, only later to be informed by Nick that I went missing for nearly two hours.  I find a good black out on occasion to be invigorating.

Saturday Night Lets have a Bar Fight!

 Nick wanted to roll out and try to meet up this chick he thought he could score with.  I had my doubts, but having nothing better to do I accompanied him downtown.  I had some friends at Dargan’s and figured I would just mossie over there.  State St. was packed full of people.  I can’t remember the last time I saw the place so busy.  Every club and bar was hopping.  Nick and I cruised around a bit before going our separate ways.

I went into Dargan’s only to find out that one of my friends swooped and was gone already and my remaining two were over it and going home.  They got me a drink in their haste to leave as a consolation prize, A Jack and Coke, c’mon people for an extra UCB half point: What is the official drink of Lisanti Land and for another half point what is my preferred brand?  First person to get the right answer in the comments wins.  Then I was about to leave myself when some random guy handed me a beer and said he had an extra one cause his bud split.  I am never one to look a free drink in the mouth, let alone two.

Dargan’s is an Irish pub and definitely not my scene, but on this night there was this crazy funk band playing.  The group was five pieces plus two horns, all black guys, so you know the shit was authentic.  I was super into it and after I finished my beer got down on the dance floor.  Nothing is better then a night of good music and dancing.

I was having a blast doing my dance thing when this huge black lady decides to get up in there with me.  Now I have no prejudice when I’m getting my groove on just as long as you can keep up.  All of a sudden this big black guy grabs her arm and says “Marla what you doin?!?”.  She yells “leave it be Leroy” turns and slaps him in the face.  I busted out laughing, which further exacerbated the situation causing Leroy to swing at me.

I ducked, although a bit intoxicated my wits were still about me.  The intended assault caught the Mexican dude dancing with his lady behind me right in the side of the face.  He was none to happy about this.  In retaliation he lunged at Leroy pushing me aside.  They went at it pretty hardcore.  One of Leroy’s buddies came to his aid and two other Mexican guys jumped in to help out their boy.

Next thing I know I was standing right smack in the middle of a good old fashioned bar room brawl.  People were screaming and running out the doors. Drinks were dropped, the band stopped playing and yelled for security, who could not get through the panicking crowd.  What was I doing through all this you ask?  Mostly laughing my head off and drinking whatever un-spilt cocktails that were jettisoned in everyone’s frantic sprint for the door.  I guess everyone expected another shooting.  A fight between Mexicans and blacks can only mean trouble after all.

It was hilarious.  I full on accidentally started a bar fight. Yet did not throw one punch or get hit.  Finally the cops came rushing in and arrested everyone involved.  Luckily by that point I had slinked off into the shadows and out of sight.  Security cleared the place. The band counted off and stuck another groove.  All was well. I jumped back on the floor and enjoyed the rest of my night.  The best thing was that I had just recently told Nick that I really wanted to get into a good old fashioned bar room brawl.  Check that one off the list! That my friends is how you step in shit and come out smelling like roses.  If you are going to get into a bar fight it might as well be in an Irish bar even if it involved two black guys, three Mexicans and one ridiculous Italian.  No Irish necessary.  Sounds like the whole ordeal could have been the punchline for some bad racist joke.

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This week’s UCB finds the magnanimous John Mauriello back into the limelight.  He suggested I write about my thoughts on mankind as a whole.  Now we all know I have plenty to say on this topic and have already said plenty about it.  Before I get into that I want to take a minute to remind everyone that the bonus “Top Ten UCB” for August is up for suggestions.  If you have forgotten what I am talking about all you need to do is suggest 10 one word or short topics and I will address all in one fun blog.  It’s worth double points and everyone gets one set of suggestions.  Read You’re a Fucking Idiot But So am I blog for more details.


Mankind baffles me.  I just don’t understand humans in general.  Up until recently I had always believed I was above them.  I have always felt at the very least an outsider looking in.  I know I am insane, but its people as a unit that really scare me.  We are all fucking nuts.

I don’t have the answers, but I think I have figured out how to eek out an existence that I am pleased with.  I watch people everyday walking through life like zombies.  I see others who are completely miserable.  Why do we always want more?  These days I find myself wanting less and constantly getting more.

Humans seem to be in a constant struggle speaking their mind.  Everyone puts on a façade.  It’s those false pretenses that fuck everything up.  Shoots I lived a lie for nearly eight years.  I don’t know what it is I’m living now, but whatever it is, it’s the most honest thing I can remember.

For all of the advancements we have made technologically, we have taken ten steps back socially.  Human communication is at an all time low.  Everything is good as long as you hit the “like” button on your friend’s dumb ass face book status.  I have an idea, call your friend instead and see how him or her is doing.

I am just as guilty, but at least I can admit that out of the 284 friends I have on Face Book I may actually know half of them, and out of that half am lucky if I actually talk to twenty regularly.  It’s much easier to hit that like button.

See that is what I am talking about.  Our society has had a social break down.  Then we wonder why no one can keep a relationship together anymore.  There is no like button in Real life.  Two people actually have to communicate with one another.

I have a few select people in my life right now whom I feel very deep love for and I know they are better then the rest, most better then me.  I try these days to only surround myself with people of quality.  In the human race there is more static then picture.  You choose what you wish to portray.

Don't let yourself get lost in the sea of mediocrity....

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