Surfing Ruined My Life

In 2006 I was living in a beat up run down beach bungalow in Manasquan, NJ with my now ex-wife working a dead end job managing an unsuccessful surf shop that the owner would later screw me royally at for making it successful.  I was going through the blog archives and came across this little gem about a trip to the DMV and a glimpse into just how much yet how little I have changed as an individual.  The last sentence is the real kicker to this Blast From the Past cause it proved I actually did accomplish something for a change. “Yippie Kiy yay Mother Fucker”!!!!!  This blog was originally posted on March 8 2006. Enjoy…

I woke up as usual on my day off eager (Note how my sarcasm is timeless)  and ready to sand and glass battered old surfboards for people who are not worthy of my skill.  As I went to get my sander out I realized that my respirator was shot, clogged with epoxy dust from this M10 I had to do last week (by the way I would rather get hit by a big stick swung by a Ningitsu master then fix epoxy surfboards.  Its just so un holy. They are like the Rose Mary Baby of the surfboard industry…but that is a whole other topic all together.). I still hate to fix epoxy surf boards.

Anyhow so I jump in my car and head over to A’s Home Center on HWY 35 in Wall(not getting paid for this plug either) cause they seem to have the best supplies at a quality price.  On my way back a very diligent officer of the law (oink oink) pulls me over to remind me in the form of a citation that my license had expired like 7 days ago.  Thank God for PBA Cards or I would have been hit with a 140 buck fine.  You know Squan cops hate me..but that too is for another topic.

So I decided to make the trek out to the DMV, which is not unlike one of the great crusades to  the holy land back in the middle ages.  Its a battle you dont want to fight, but the state makes it your duty to go there. Now for those of you who have not been to the DMV cause your too young to drive let me give you a play by play on how this Hell on earth works.  The first topic and the most frustrating is somthing we thank our good friend Osma for.  Its called the 6 points of ID you need to bring with you in order to obtain any kind of official document. In California you need like two.  God bless  the soon to rise again and secede from the union, The Bear Republic.  That is a blog for another day as well.

You need your old license, a Passport, a Marriage license, a Credit Card, School ID and a recent government Statement of Proof of address.  If you don’t have atleast 3 of these documents they are sending you on your way.  I once got shut down at Eaton Town because I was short 1 point of ID and that was on my 3rd check point.  Thats right you have to go through 3 different people to check your shit before you can even get in line.   Each one of these “Document Officials” is about as well trained to spot a forgery as my cat is to use the litter box with out making a mess. After 8-10years (not sure how old he is) Alfie still shits on the floor about 25% of the time.

So I got rejected cause my proof address was 31 days ago, one day past the 30 day cut off point.  Meanwhile Mohammad abdul wearing his turban and consealing his Israeli built hand held Usi had his 9 points of fraudulent ID cliaming he was Joe Smith got his license no problem.  I think they handed him a pilots license too.  I on the other hand was escorted out by security for as they put it “causing a scene”. Can you believe I did not drink back then???

This time however I was crazy prepared. I went to the one in Freehold to beat the crowds, plus was hoping to catch an afternoon session at Jackson. They had this really fun six foot half pipe at the skate park there I used to rock the shit out of.  I brought 12 points of ID and I had ID to back up that ID.  Those bitches did not even know what was coming their  way.  When I got through to the last check point the lady looked at me with eyes of contempt saying “the war is not over just because one battle was won”.  I snatched my license out of her hand grabed my balls Bruce Irons at Teau’poo style and laughed my way out the door all the while hearing complaints from others getting turned away for not being as prepared as me. “See you in 6 years bitches” I muttered undermy breath.  If in 6 years Im still living in this wretched place please come over my house and hit me across the face with the flat end of a 2×4′ cause I deserve a beating.  See I told you the last sentence was a kicker.  Out of one shit hole and into another. Lucky me, but at least I get to surf everyday.

I really do miss skating that ramp.