Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for July, 2012

Then man Killing it…

Now that I am writing again, I know its pretty amazing isn’t it?  I don’t really know what gave me the sudden angst to get the mind working again, but I’m back baby!  There are only another six weeks left in the Summer of Alf.  At the moment I have not decided if it was total flop or semi-success story.  I guess we will all just have to wait another six weeks to find out.  For the remainder of the Summer of Alf I have decided that every week I will post a Groovin’ High of what I really consider great music and more then that great music played, written and performed by masterful musicians.

These are the people that inspire me to play the saxophone on a higher level and constantly allow the bar to continue to be raised.  I feel on the whole most of what I post here in Groovin’ High are decent songs by decent artist.  Usually I pick a song by how it pertains to my life at that moment.  For me music has always been more of a stream of consciousness then just something to fill space or a vehicle for dance.  The next six weeks I will spot light six tunes by six artists that have helped shape me into the person and artist I have become.  If this is not your particular genre listen anyway and keep an open mind.  When “Call Me Maybe” is top on the American music charts I think it is time to give a comparison on what skilled artists are doing.

The first song in this installment is “Of Things to Come” by Stefon Harris and it appears on his Black Action Hero album.  He released it in 1999 and it found its way into my hands in 2000.  I have always been a huge fan of the vibraphone enjoying the likes of Milt Jackson and Roy Ayers.  I came across a very interesting write up in a Jazz magazine about this young vibes player who was combining contemporary jazz, R&B, Soul,Hip Hop and Jungle beats to create a very distinctive sound.  The description alone was enough to get my purchase.  I love the jungle work done by Dizzy Gillespie back in the 60’s.

“Of Things to Come” was the first song to really catch my attention on the album.  I was already blown away by the playing, but had yet to hear anything that really grabbed me.  Then this track came on and I was mesmerized.  I think I played this one on loop for nearly a month after hearing it.  I own another five albums, four solo and one collaboration by Stefon and I must say I am truly impressed.  I would have to put him as my favorite vibraphonist and in my top ten favorite Jazz Musicians.

The band on this are no slouches either.  Every player is masterful.  Greg Osby is playing Alto Saxophone and he also is at the moment one of the hottest jazz altoist on the market.  Listen to the infliction of his solo on this track.  The guy fucking burns.  On trombone you have one of my former jazz mentors, Steve Turre, who in his own right may be the best living Latin jazz trombonist at the moment.  I have had the opportunity to perform with Mr. Turre a few times in my life and if you think he blows on the trombone you need to hear what he can do with a conch shell.   As for the rest of the group they kill it too although I am unfamiliar with any of those cats.

I could go on and on about this tune but I would rather have you just listen to it.  Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts on the song, the playing, the style, or even the new direction of Groonin’ High in the comments.  I am always stoked for feedback.

Now Listen to this and tell me there is not a big difference in musicality.  If you can’t understand the difference please stop reading my blog.

“Before you came into my life I missed you so bad…So Call Me Maybe”  Now if that is not great American song writing I don’t know what is.  Rodgers and Hart, Gershwin, you guys have nothing on this tune! FTW…

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

The first UCB of the quarter goes to, surprise, suprise none other then Kooky Kyle.  The man the myth, the UCB Legend.  A man who’s obscene head of hair in its massive lusciousness ate a hair net.  Shit that thing may have eaten a small fucking child at one point.  He posed the topic: Who do I think Alfie misses the most?  For his efforts he gets 1.5pts and he also nailed a bonus question in the surflog earning him one bonus point.  The kid already is starting out with 2.5pts.  Don’t let him walk away with another quarter and thus another victory.  The kid is already a member of the Lisanti royal court and has a passport to Lisanti Land.  Step it up people there are eight more weeks in this quarter, two Power of Tens up for grabs and at least ten bonus points currently floating around.

Hide the wife, hide the kids, Kooky’s hair is loose.

Alfie as if you did not follow this blog is my disgruntled little bastard of a black cat that happens to be my black cat, my personal cross to bear, my proverbial blue ox so to speak.  If an animal could consciously commit suicide I think Alfie would have ended his miserable existence two years ago.  Shit the cat was addicted to heroin for like six months, but since has weened off it very nice and looks like a normal cat again.  As my buddy West put it back in December “That cat will haunt my dreams for eternity”.  West’s Adventure Tour got really out of hand you can read about it here: Part I, Part II, Part III.  There are a ton of new people here as of late and if you missed these three gems it is some serious entertainment and shows just exactly how out of control a Lisanti Adventure can get.  Just ask Micheala who almost killed me and is coming back for round two in just a few short weeks.

I guess the best way to go about this is to give a quick history on Alfie’s background.  He started off in Lincroft, New Jersey where he was born an ally cat and abandoned by his mother in the middle of a terrible blizzard.  My mother’s friend John saved the litter from near death and nursed them back to health.  He did not want a litter of kittens already having too my cats of his own.  My mother convinced my ex-wife Sindia and I into taking one.  We did and Alfie had a happy home.  A year later we adopted another cat from the same mother, black also, Alfie’s Step brother Turtle, circa 2003?  Maybe Sindia can shed some light on the time table if she ever reads this.

Alfie and Turtle Circa 05


The four of us lived very happily for a couple of years in this dilapidated little beach bungalow Sindia and I rented from my parents for $500 a month.  The place was haggard and really tiny but life was really good there.  Now that I am older looking back those may have been the best few years of my life.  I think Sindia may feel the same.  Things were very simple back then.  It literally was my “Walden”.  There were wild parties, late night skate sessions on the ghetto backyard half pipe, swims off the dock, wild ducks, horseshoe crabs, crazy old lady neighbors, and lots and lots of surfing.

One of those awesome backyard sessions at the Bungalow.

Times changed and my parents decided to build another “dream house” of theirs on the lot where my bungalow existed.  The place was scheduled for demolition and just before I threw a sledge hammer party that nearly ended in the death of all its participants when Bojangles and I knocked out the main support to the roof.  I wrote a rather good blog about such back in the Myspace.com days.  If someone goes and finds it and posts the entire blog in the comments, not just the link but the actually text I will give you three extra points.  Click here to start your search.

From there we moved to a really nice colonial duplex in Spring Lake, NJ.  My marriage was on some serious thin ice between my constant traveling for surfing, her constant traveling for science and finishing her PHD in Chemical Oceanography things just were not as they were.  The cats could sense it.  We took in this crazy guy Jason as a roommate who was highly recommended by my asshole friend Adam.  Turns out the guy was a complete nut job and that is saying a lot since I walk a very fine line of sanity myself.  We also had this roommate Crystal who worked as a veterinarian’s assistant and as a result had like thirty different pets in her room.  She had this cage of ferrets that should let out and they would just reek havoc on Alfie.

The little fucks would back him into a corner and then just bring him down.  It was terrible but really funny at the same time.  Turtle on the other hand would not even come out from under the bed.  I came home from a surf trip and she had pets every where, there was a chick and a duck in my bath tube.  The place smelled like a farm. She had to go.  Crazy Jason threatened me with violence as he threw the cats’ litter box out of the second story window.  He had to go.  I don’t think Alfie missed either of them all that much.

Then there was this polish immigrant, Conrad living there, who actually really liked Alfie and this marble cutter, Dave, who chain smoked cigarettes and bud all day long renting the place, while I was traveling all over to trying and make it in surfing and Sindia had moved to Australia.  Meanwhile both cats were under Conrad’s care.  I was in Santa Barbara by this time and I got reports that things were not going so well for my cats back in NJ.  As a result I flew home and closed up shop there, had the cats shipped to California and was done with it.  I do not think he missed those guys either.  

I picked up two very bewildered Cats up at the LAX loading docks a few weeks later and brought them to what is now the current Lisanti Palace.  At the time gay Lucas the giant was living here and I don’t believe him or Alfie gave a shit about one another.  Then Brennan and I moved in together.  He  lost my cats in a drunken pass out mishap.  Alfie returned shortly while Turtle after many failed capture attempts was never to be seen again.  You can read about that adventure in The Great Escape from Mission Street. I think Alfie may have been fond of Brennan cause he got rid of Turtle for him and I believe Alfie never cared for that sorry excuse of a cat anyway.  With any luck Turtle got devoured by a coyote.  

Then Alf and I moved back to the Lisanti Palace although at that time it was under the reign of my former roommate and brother from another mother Cory.  Although allergic to felines Cory had no problem with Alfie and since he did nothing but sit around on the couch and drink beer all day I think the two of them got along famously.  After Cory, Adrienne moved in.  She payed a ton of attention to him and the waste of space she was spend the bulk of her weekends just sitting around on the couch from what I have been told staring at the walls.  Alfie loves a good friend on the couch.  

Ades brought this bullshit kitten I so endearingly called Mustafa since she never named him. I think she still actually calls him Kitty.  Real creative you stupid bitch. Yeah I am having one of those weeks so deal with it.  Mustafa terrorized the shit out of Alfie and wrecked my apartment.  Shortly after, Ades decided she liked short fat bald old guys better then me, yet failed to inform me of that decision ultimately ending things in a mess.  The event leaving me in my current state of rapture.  Alfie definitely did not miss Mustafa.  He did miss Adrienne a bit.  

Mauriello lived here briefly but he used to fuck with Alfie all the time so I am pretty sure Alfie was not all that broken up about his departure.  Heroin Bryan was never around all that much so I am sure Alf did not care a bit about him.  Sleepy Time Nick helped Alfie get his dope so he probably misses him a bit.  Rye Guy who occupied the couch for like four months was pretty kind to Alfie.  Alfie loved kooky Kyle and never left that dudes side the whole time he was out here. I think he likes Danny my new roommate since Dan has an affinity with picking all of Alfie’s flea bite scabs.  Charlie Sean got along famously with the alfster as well.

So who does Alfie miss the most after all that?  My first thought would have been Sindia.  Then on further thought I doubt he even remembers her.  Its been over five years.  I barely remember her.  If I keep drinking the way I am I should be able to erase every trace.  Its sort of like “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”.   In all seriousness I really did love my ex-wife and we had some amazing times I hope to never forget.  

Alfie misses me the most.  That’s right.  When I am at work or away for a few days all he does is walk around the house crying.  When I come home from work he is sitting in front of the door waiting for me even if Dan has already fed him.  As I write this he is happily sitting on my lap.  You know why?  Cause after all these years I have stood by him.  I took care of him and always gave him a home.  He knows with me he will always be safe and he respects such loyalty.  You can say lots of bad things about me but the one thing you cant shake a stick at is the extent I will go to take care of and protect the ones I love.

Alfie eternally standing by my side just like Sir Gawain in “The Knight with the Lion” One of my all time favorite King Arthur tales.

 

Read Full Post »

That’s right folks the real Chris Lisanti is back. Some peeping Tom must have shot a picture of me getting out of the water after a recent surf. No privacy ever, damn smart phones. This picture was probably all over some Japanese persons twitter…

Remember when I used rant and rave on here about all kinds of stupidity?  I do.  Then I tried to be a “nice guy” and “positive” and guess what things got really fucking pathetic, then really fucking boring.  Finally I almost gave up on blogging altogether.  Last week I realized its time to end the charade and face the facts.  I am at 31 years old a bitter, surly, antagonistic, hedonistic, narcissistic,  egotistic, pretentious prick of an asshole.  I believe that most likely sucks worse then monkey cock, although most of you know my feelings of complete abhorrence to such.  What I am trying to say is “NO MORE MR. NICE GUY”.

The old vindictive Chris Lisanti is back and ready to sound off on anything from Midgets, to government, to religion, to gender relations, to racial issues, you name it I am going to tear it apart.  Everything I say will just as it used to be, be based entirely on angry bias and opinion with little to no more fact than I found in the National Enquirer, The New York Post (my grandfather’s favorite News Paper God rest his soul.  Now there was a hateful little Italian man to even rival me) The Sun Times and finally People Magazine Style Watch cause I think by now everyone knows how I feel about clothing.  In celebration of finding the real Chris Lisanti all over again and realizing that the only time I am truly happy is when I am angry at least each month I will post a blog on the angry revelations I have had during that time period.

National Health Care, I.E. Obama Care

Here is something I have held my tongue on for a while opting to wait till I had all the facts before sounding off on. Then I realized that was never going to happen cause none of my favorite internet porn sites, even the grandma porn ones where you think that sort of thing would be an important topic, have covered the issue.  I am going to have to go by the little bit of miss-information I have picked up from many different people’s Facebook.com statuses.  For starters I have no money and live so far below the poverty level its not even funny.

Wait; not far enough to receive welfare or food stamps that is why I am in the process of adopting a teenager.  Apparently being a single parent I could receive over $4,000 a month in government support.  That’s more then I make at my current job.  I do not really know how this new bill will affect me anyway.  Right now when I am in need of medical attention I go to my cat Alfie and have him lick the wound till all the bacteria in his mouth transfers into the cut causing the blood to clot.  If that fails I turn to Rambo Tactics.  You know that scene where he sticks the hot poker into his gun shot wound to close it up.  If you don’t here it is:

I don’t vote.  I don’t watch the news.  I have not read a decent News Paper since I found one in the trash and read it out of boredom when I worked at the gas station.  What I do know is if I hear one more person bitch about how universal health care is a bad thing I will beat him so fucking bad he will be in need of some of that health care he is so angry about.  Here is one fact I do have.  I have been to third world countries where it was easier to see a doctor and get medical help with out any money or insurance then it is in America.  In America your lucky if the the night janitor will put some duct tape on your stab wound in the parking lot if you do not have insurance.  Ever have bronchitis for two months cause you could not afford Antibiotics?  I have…

It took Alfie nearly three days of hard licking to get this cut on my foot to close up. I got a universal health care plan for America…Annoying pet black cats for everyone.

Gasoline Prices

So I noticed the price of petroleum climbed about ten cents right as my tank was about to hit empty.  I don’t really know how that price is determined but I do know it really pissed me off when I could have gotten gas three days ago for ten cents less.  Shit in a 12 gallon tank I could have saved a buck twenty which means I would be just 25cents short of a Big Mac on Mac Mondays.  Fucking towel heads and their oil bull shit.  I am going to invent a car that runs on my semen.  Then when I start running low on gas I will just rub one out into my gas tank.   Filling up will never be more fun.

Why Alcohol has to be bad for Me

I don’t know if there is a God or not, but if so fuck him.  Why would you put a substance as wonderful as alcohol on this earth and then make harmful to the very species that enjoys consuming it?  I know it pisses the fuck out of me.  For a long time I barely drank, but courtesy of a lack of self control, California, Santa Barbara and the female species on a whole I have become a functioning alcoholic and it really makes me angry to watch the adverse effects such has had on my brain, body and life in general.  Whatever I really did not want to live forever anyway or to the age of 50.  After all do I really want to become one of the those old guys with shriveled up figs and a saggy ass.  Maybe, since I have lost the last three women I was involved with to such dudes.

The Lie that is Sunny California Summers

Let me enlighten everyone out there who may fantasize about the wonderful sunny warm California summers and how it is a complete crock of shit.  I too once believed in sunny California.  Then I moved here and realized if the sun comes out of the thick coastal fog 1 out of five days you consider yourself lucky.  Sure inland California is sunny.  Its also a shit whole and anywhere form 95-115 F.  Don’t believe me go visit the city of El Centro sometime.  I thought I was in a fucking oven when I stepped out of my nice air conditioned car.  Then the gas station clerk tells me it is only going to get hotter the next day.  I did not stick around to find out.  While we are at it lets sound off on the freezing cold water temperatures out here too.  All those beach blanket bingo surf movies of the 50’s where everyone was in bathing suits swimming is bull too.  I wear a 4/3 and booties pretty much year round.

Instagram

I don’t know what instagram is.  I don’t want to know.  AND NO! I DO NOT HAVE AN INSTAGRAM.  All I do know is it pisses me off.  People constantly posting pictures to it thinking they are super artsy cause they picked a cool filter piss me off even more.  Here is a News flash: its owned by Facebook and your not artsy cause you took a bad blurry photo on your I-phone.  Then made it even more incoherent by adding an old time filter.

Guys who find it completely ok to wear shorts, flip flops and tank tops to the club and the woman who find them attractive.  

Hey nothing screams I just came from the beach like a tank top, flip flops, messy hair and board shorts.  Why not wear them out to the club.  Who wants to wear fancy clothes anyway when apparently chicks would much rather stand next to one of these defuses in their designer party dress and expensive heels.  Ladies did you really spend all that time getting ready tonight to go home with some bro who looks like he literally climbed out of bed and threw on whatever was lying around on the floor.  I am pretty sure Humphrey Bogart never wore a tank top.

Pictures of women who look like this:
Because all I ever get to fuck is women who look like this:

And there you have it folks, all the anger I have been bottling up inside for the past few months.  Man it feels good to get it all off my chest.  Oh and I’m not to happy with the current state up hip hop music either, but that is another topic for another time.  Thanks for listening.  Yes I am certifiably insane!!!


Read Full Post »

For some reason I feel a bit gypped being it is 2012.  Were we not suppose to have flying cars by now, wearing futuristic clothing  with strange rings round different parts of the outfit and I’m pretty sure we should have had robots doing all our work for us?  So much for that shit.  If the world does not end in December I am going to royally be let down this year.

I have not written too much as of late.  My excuse this time around is that I just feel sort of bored with my life.  Trying this normal “real life” thing and doing what I’m “suppose to do” really leaves a lack time for adventuring and a paling few opportunities for spontaneity, two aspects of my life that I have constantly thrived on, well since birth actually. Don’t get me wrong I am digging this “settling down becoming a useful member of society” idea.

I guess its fun to have to go to work five days out of the week.  Who really liked all that free time anyway?  NOT ME…NO! I love to sweat it out for eight hours a day in a hot kitchen serving some other guys dreams while burning my hands and arms.  All so I can be told I forgot the sauce, or the cheese or this side, or “this steak is not well done enough”.  Bitch if I cooked it any longer it would have been a piece of mother fucking charcoal!

Now that I got that off my chest this new mundane life of surfing the same shitty breaks, in the same shitty town, in the same shitty state, in the same shitty country has caused a sort of mental paralysis.  I literally have had blog writers block if such a thing is possible.  Then I gave my life a bit more consideration and realized that even though I am living like everyone else my life still manages to be crazy and intense.  Just going to the bank and grocery store at times produce ridiculous stories.

Rather then just write the surflog and the occasional UCB (which by the way has been rather sterile as of late, get those power of ten lists in for July) I have decided I am going to write about the adventures I have in my vain attempt at social normality.  Its usually a collection of great moments of failure.  The first subject I would like to write on is dating in today’s I’m too busy, high paced, smart phone society.  As most of you know I have been single now for just about a year and unfortunately have had to partake in the world of adult dating.

Meeting Members of the Opposite Sex

I use the term adult dating to describe dating after college years.  Once you get out of school meeting people becomes quite the challenge, at least for me anyway.  When your young there are plenty of social circles one exists in where there are plenty of opportunities to meet new and different people.  Those people introduce you to others and so on and so forth.  By pure probability of the social circle system there is a decent chance of meeting a member of the opposite sex who you may click with.

As an adult those circles get smaller and tighter.  While new ones become nearly impossible to penetrate.  If you have a group of friends you have been hanging out with for twenty years and you bring in a new person that poor schmuck has a lot of catching up to do.  Its hard trust me.  There is only so long you can pretend to find inside jokes that you are on the outside of funny before you get fed up and go your own way.  It sucks when your that guy people have to constantly be explaining what is going on and who is who to.

The Bar

Then there is the bar/club.  This is my natural scene to meet people.  Why do you go out to such places?  To meet new people.  Face the facts why go out and spend the price of an entire bottle or six pack  for one drink if you just wanted to hang out with your friends and not meet anyone new?  You could stay home with all your friends and drink for a quarter of the price.   On paper this looks like the perfect scene for singles to go out and mingle.

Maybe at one time it was.  These days its a mess out there.  Your average person might go out a few times a month at best more times then not opting to stay home and sit around on the couch.  I love the rules of probability so I go out a few nights a week.  My attitude being nothing is sure as hell going to happen on my couch besides Alfie clawing the shit out of my legs.  Of course when you go out a bunch there is another probability statistic that holds true: becoming an alcoholic.    Its very easy my friends.  One drink turns into five, then shots next thing you know your being woken up at 4am by the cops cause you passed out against a gas pump.

The quality of people you meet here are for the most part less then stellar as well.  Drunks love drunks after all.  My buddy and I have this running rule now: No Regulars.  For me this is sort of an oxymoron cause we are regulars.  The idea being if a woman is out as much as we are then she most likely has bigger problems then us.  Basically we hang around looking for the women who have come out for some special occasion such as a holiday, birthday, wedding party, etc.  These girls are most likely decent people looking to have a good time and worth meeting and they don’t know that we are there all the time.

“Do you come here often” she asks.  “Never, this is only my third time at the Wild Cat” I reply as the bar tender hands me another rum and coke with out me having ordered it.  It just so happens everyone I know is at that bar by coincidence that night.  The other problem with the bar is the fact that when chicks go out they either put on their battle armor ready to fend off any suitor in their sights thanks in part to all the tools and douche bags out there who have ruined it for guys like myself.  Getting past this armor is a hard one.  If they don’t have their armor on then they have come out to get laid meaning come morning I am most likely never to see her again.

Yeah, the club does have some fringe benefits 😉

The Grocery Store

This is a place I have just recently come to embrace for meeting women at.  For starters there are tons of women at the super market.  I am personally a terrible opener.  I never  know what to say and most times when I do try I feel like I am just being bothersome, get flushed and quickly walk away as fast as I approached.  At the grocery store I am the man.

I’m a  chef. I know food and wine.  No matter what section of the store I’m in if I see a woman looking at a certain item and she seems a bit confused I add my two cents.  More times then not it leads into a conversation.  Then I always blow it by not getting any digits.  I like to leave things up to fate that way.  I think if I see her again it was meant to be and I will ask for her number at that time.  This system is double flawed.  My short term memory and face recognition is spotty at best and odds of running into her again slim.  Its a lose lose for me.

The Beach

There was a time when I was a professional surfer and I killed it on the beach.  All I had to do was get out of the water and chicks would flock to me.  These days I don’t have stickers on my board any more and therefore when I get out am just another average schmo.   Yeah I still rip, but most women have no idea what good surfing is.  Its been my understanding that in general they think who ever rode the wave the longest got the best ride even if that meant riding the white water all the way to the beach.  Whenever I take a chick who knows little about surfing down to the beach with me all she says is “why did you keep falling” or “your rides were so short”.  “Look at that guy he has been riding his waves all the way in” as she points to some kook on a soft top flailing his way in on the soap…FML.

Besides surfing I have no beach game what so ever.  I think this is mainly because I am not a bro.  Also I have chicken legs thus shorts are not flattering to me.  One looks like an idiot on the beach in a pair of jeans.  Here in Santa Barbara there are no surf able waves on our beaches most of the time and zero in the summer when chicks actually go to the beach.  The surfing approach just does not work.

Maybe if I looked as sexy as this guy my beach game would be better. Hold on a second isn’t that the dude my ex girlfriend left me for? hmmmmm

The Coffee Shop

My buddy Mark thoroughly believes in this approach.  Its true there are tons of woman at coffee shops just hanging out.  Next to the bar I would have to think they are the second best casual social meccas.  I have a problem.  I don’t drink coffee. The caffeine makes me crazy.  I am a naturally hyper person to begin with.  Throw in the caffeine and I get neurotic and even at times am prone to have anxiety attacks.  Between the two It makes me rather unattractive.  Me on coffee:

Library, Gym, rec-center, church, parks

Although I love books and reading I do not like the library.  Taking out books is such a hassle.  Then I always forget to return them, lose or damage the material thus that “free” book became more then it would have cost to buy it.  Here in Santa Barbara the library has become the headquarters for the homeless.  I think we all know how I feel about bummery.  Yes bummery is not a word.  You can quote me on that: Bummery – the act of vagrancy.  Honestly I rarely see good looking chicks in the library and they come there to read not be bothered by dudes looking to get in their pants.

I don’t work out and even if I do don’t develop muscle tone.  I would rather just go surfing, skating or on a hike for my exercise.  I do like cute girls in spandex though.  Believe it or not I actually tried the gym briefly last summer on a one month free trial membership I got from Spectrum when I worked with FRS.  I did not meet any one and mostly got yelled at for misusing the equipment.  Eventually I got tired of the ridiculous amount of old men walking around the locker room butt naked with their shriveled up figs dangling about.

The reason I gave up on the gym…

What the fuck is a rec-center.  Do they even exists anymore, seriously.  If they do and they are filled with eligible hot single women please my readers enlighten me.  I will reward you by building a statue of your likeness out of a block of Wisconsin cheddar cheese.  They are more likely just to be filled with more naked old men walking around with their shriveled up figs.

I tried the church thing.  For the most part churches are full of beautiful good hearted single women.  The draw back is most of these women want to get married.  I don’t really have a problem with that per say, second times a charm right.  I do have a problem with the fact that the majority of these girls wont have sex with me until that marriage takes place and then some don’t believe in contraception.  Although I would like to have children some day I would like it to be planned and limited.  Oh and for whatever reason they are against drinking, partying and just about everything else that is fun. One thing that is for certain about churches is the likely hood of running into naked old men is rare if any.

Parks are cool.  I love a nice park.  There is nothing like a good stroll through a nice park on a gorgeous summer day.  If I had a dog I would be golden.  Chicks love dogs.  Then again I don’t really want to walk around picking up dog shit in a little baggie and then having to carry that around till I find a trash receptacle.  As much as chicks dig a guy with a dog I do not believe they fancy a guy who picks up shit and then carries it around  with him in a little baggie.  My dog would probably be gnarly and eat some little kid on the play ground.  Then authorities would shot him on sight and then me cause I wouldn’t let them take me alive.    Maybe its best if I just stayed at home with Alf.  Plus I once saw an old homeless guy drop his pants and take a shit against a tree in a park once.  That breaches both my homeless and old man fig problem.

The Internet

I don’t do the online thing.  A bunch of people have recommended some great sites for me to try.  I have heard countless success stories.  On the other hand I have heard countless horror stories as well.  What if I just end up having some weirdo old man send me a picture of his figs? I know it is the “way of the future” for people to meet.  It seems really unnatural and forced to me, borderline desperate?  I know I am old fashioned but what happened to meeting someone awesome in your day to day and having dinner?  That is actually going to be our next segment in this new series.

I have messed around with the Craigslist personals.  That shit is fucking gnarly.  You want adventure start answering some of those adds.  Unlike match.com and those other accepted, safe dating sites craigslist is dangerous and you never know who or what you are going to meet.  Anyone who is willing to put themselves on that forum is got guts and worthy of my time.  Believe me I have been on some interesting craigslist dates to say the least.  Needless to say I am still single.

Singles Mixers

Yep I have tried some of these too.  If you think internet dating is bad this is far worse.  On the whole it is a collection of busted ass people thrown together in a somewhat hostile setting.  Its almost like going to a stud farm.  There is always more dudes then chicks there.  Then we are all thrown into the coral together with alcohol.  It is sort of like the bar but with bright lighting.  I did two of such events saw just about the same people at both, drank my two complementary drinks and went to the Wild Cat.  Mostly if was old men walking around with their figs safely concealed in their trousers.

I hope you found some humor in this.  If you are single then you see that you are not alone my friends.  Even a person as wonderfully man pretty as myself  cant nab a girl friend to save his life.  For whatever reason I don’t think this blog helps my case.  Oh well if they can’t accept me for who I am then I don’t want any.  Look for more dating fun in another segment soon.

With a face like this I am always in constant wonderment why the ladies stay away. I know what it is: My good looks and charm are too intimidating for them.

Read Full Post »

Book XIV: Measure for Measure, William Shakespeare, 1604, 205 pages

“Some rise by sin and some by virtue fall”.  Finally a new book. Those Hemingway short stories took me forever to read. Talk about the most depressing collection of writings I have read since Oliver Twist (see blog Chris’ Notes, Oliver Twist).  At the time I was in the mood for such.  Being its summer now and feeling rather nostalgic for NYC’s Shakespeare in the park free play series I thought why not read Measure for Measure.  I actually have never read this play.  I scored it for a quarter at a garage sale a few months back.  Its time.  The last book took me nearly 7 months to read, which in my opinion is completely disgraceful.  My goal is to finish this one by the end of the month.  Feel Free to pick up a copy and read a long with me.

If you missed the Book XIII The First Forty Nine Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway click this link.  I will not be doing a Chris’ notes entry on this book cause it was a collection of fifty stories and I am not about to take that on.  There were some really insightful entries and serious introspection to be had.  I think it is definitely worth picking up for a read.  There are few authors as powerful as Hemingway.

I don’t even know.

Read Full Post »

Spring has come and gone and with it another quarter of the UCB.  There were I believe three blogs written and two “Power of Ten’s”.  There should have been more, would’ve, Should’ve, Could’ve.  I don’t really give shit’ve.  I feel although the quantity on here has become sparse the quality has more then made up for it.  If you want quantity I do write in the surf log everyday and at times that is more interesting then what I write here.  There are still plenty of laughs, rants and insanity as we have grown so accustomed to.  You should all be happy for me that I am out living life instead of spending all my time writing about it.

Yeah you got me. I’m usually just too drunk the majority of the time to formulate a coherent sentence.  I should have Alfie start writing his own column, put him on the keys and let him go to town.  In all seriousness I have been pretty busy with my new job, surfing, music, my garden, cooking and adventuring.  Shoot that last San Francisco Blog I wrote a few days ago was like 20,000 words or something obnoxious like that.  If that is not effort I don’t know what is.  Once again it was a rather lame UCB quarter with only three real participants.  Shame on all of you who don’t participate.  If I got more suggestions I may write more.

Here are the winner stats for Spring:

Kooky Kyle takes the cake once again winning his second quarter of the year.  Its true I am going send him a cake in the mail.  Its most likely going to be melted when he gets it since it is an ice cream cake and I am sending it US standard ground. Congratulations Kooky your working on your next self expense paid trip to the Lisanti Palace!! Oh yeah and enjoy your melted cake courtesy of Rob Machado in Loose Change (extra UCB point if you explain what I am referring to.  Put your answer in the comments).

1st Place: Kooky Kyle – 5.5pts
2nd Place tie:  DanaRepublic – 3pts
2nd Place tie: Mauriello – 3pts

Wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh000000000
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
000ttttttttttttttttttttttt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yep I’m an idiot…WWWHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOTTTT! So get those “Power of Ten” lists in for July and your UCB submissions as well.  Whhhhhhhhooooooooooooooooooooooooot!

Got a problem with the UCB. Make a giant cardboard sign and go hang out with these guys. If you do it and take a picture and send it to me. I will give you five UCB points. You must have a two people each one holding the above signs and then yourself holding a sign that says “Chris Lisanti Ruined My Life”. Do It Now!

Read Full Post »

I took this while driving to Oakland. One hand on the wheel the other on the camera.

***Post Script: I started writing this blog on May 26th about an adventure that happened May 17th thru the 20th. As usual things have been crazy in my life and I was not able to get it finished and published till now.  Normally when that happens I just shelve the blog.  I thought there was too much here to just let it fall by the wayside.  I hope you enjoy a great weekend in Lisanti Adventuring. ***

What a difference a year makes in ones life.  That was exactly what was going through my head as I was cruising up the 101 north toward a crazy weekend in San Francisco.  It was precisely one year ago that I was on the same trek, but under very different circumstances.  Last time around I went in a vain attempt to run away from my problems for a brief stint.  This time my intentions were all about having some fun and adventure while spending some quality time with some very good friends.  

Initially I had planned to go up sometime in June to cause trouble with one of my favorite partners in crime and SurfingRuinedMyLife.net all star John Mauriello.   Then my former roommate and another SRML all star, Brennan invited me to the 2nd Annual Lobsterfest at our buddy Christian’s house in Orinda.  From what I heard the the inaugural Lobsterfest was  all time.  Who am I to pass up an event that with my presence could go from all time status to epic?  Finally my roommate Dan was going up the same weekend for an event, the 101st Bay to Breakers.  I mean did I need anymore reasons?  Game, set and match.  

“I will be on the road by 8am”

Well that was what I was proclaiming at my usual Wednesday night dinner party.  Which sadly was the first without my sous chef and good friend Calvin, whom like many became a Santa Barbara, but really a California in general, casualty and moved back to Boston. (thats a blog right there for another time and definitely a topic worth shedding some light on) Dinner was with out a doubt not the same with out him.  For starters we went through a lot less wine.  Oh Cal why?!!!!!??? The food was superb as usual.  

I guess I drank too much as always and did not wake up till 11am. So much for the 8am start.  Then all sorts of things happened to keep me off schedule.  Schedule! Ha ha ha ha.  That’s a joke.  There has been a running gambol among everyone who knows me.  We like to call it the “Lisanti 10 minutes” (which I am pretty sure I wrote a blog about either here or on Myspace.  I will have to dig that one up. Find this blog in the Myspace archives and I will give you 5 UCB points copy and paste the actual blog text not the link in the comments).  In a nutshell I have  little concept of time as it is and now that I am not working well forget  it.   If it was not for the contrast of night and day I would be completely hopeless.

I did not get on the road till nearly 5pm.  So much for grabbing a surf on the way up.  Instead I trucked it through the 101 north.  Around Salinas I get a text from Mauriello “I hope you brought good clothes, we are going out tonight”.  Now this is the same guy who a week before told me he did not want to get wasted with me this year.  You don’t have to twist my arm to party.  Did I bring nice clothes?  Fuck I had five pairs of shoes in my trunk alone.  The Civic and I went into high gear and I don’t know if it turned into the Delorean or what but I made it in just under five hours.

Wheres Doc Brown? Marty!!!!! I really want to own a Delorean some day

Night at the Roxbury Gets a Little Out of Hand

I don’t know if it was from all the excitement or what but I as soon as I showed up at John’s place it was time to game up and move out.  Apparently he was doing a promo thing for this fledgling sunglasses company him and some friends are getting off the ground.  I don’t know, but somehow I think a very sound promotion would be to get Chris Lisanti on a program, but considering I broke a pair at this promo event I may be more of a liability then an asset.

It was at this club called Manor West.  I could not find my way back to the place if my life depended on it. I only know the name because It was on my most recent bank statement five times.  I am not going to mention the size of the tab, but will put it this way, upon leaving the bar tender handed me his personal phone number and told me if I wanted to come out at all over the weekend he would make sure myself and party would be on the VIP list, no line, no cover.  Just use your imagination.

A high bar tab leads to a high level of intoxication which in my world usually leads to a high amount of absolute ridiculousness.  We get to the club are through VIP the whole way with one of the most ridiculous looking promo girls I have ever seen.  She had to be at least my age trying to sport an outfit that barely fit her with a push up bra that I was afraid might explode at any minute taking my eyes out with the under wire.  For my sake it did not happen.  I was handed a pair of the sun glasses to put on. I concurred, which allowed me to not see a thing but shadows in the dark club.

For whatever reason this place felt a bit like the Wild Cat. There are plenty of you out there now who have experienced a night at the Kitty with me and know what it entails.  Those of you who have not but are a regular reader I am sure have a well enough idea.  Upon walking in John and I were both very sober only having a PBR and a  Bacardi mini shot.  That being the case it was time to do some damage at the bar where round after round of tequila shots were reciprocated.  As a result it did not take long to become completely inebriated.

The blonde bizzaro promo chick draged Dave, John’s partner out onto the dance  floor and we followed.  From there John and I full on became Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell in “Night at the Roxbury”. Remember that scene of them dancing out of control at the club.  That was us in a nut shell and we were all dressed up in sport jackets an nice duds for dub step night.  We have this friend called Face who is now a San Francisco based dub step artist.  At one point in the evening we started screaming FACE! as loud as we could.  Before long the crowd joined in and at pretty much most of the dance floor was screaming FACE.

I hit on some chick all sloppy.  I’m sure I drooled all over her face while slurring my speech.  Surprise, surprise she walked away.  No worries all I wanted to do is dance anyway.  That is about the last thing I remembered from the night.  The rest was all provided by Dave and John.  Some how I managed to close out my tab and we began walking to catch a bus.  On the way we stopped at an all night doughnut shot at my request.  I got a bear claw and forced John to eat a pink doughnut.  I guess I was a bit obnoxious to the counter help.

The Social Experiment 

After walking out of the Doughnut joint we ran into two homeless people.  John proceeded to pull out three dollars form his pocket, our bus fare.  He gave a dollar to each and then put the third one up and told them to share it.  One bum grabbed the extra dollar and ran leaving the other bum all surely about it.  In response to the incident he scolded John about how that was not good bum to solicitee etiquette.   All the while Dave was holding me back from beating the bum while screaming profanity.  How a good old fashion urban bum shanking did not take place is besides me.

Thanks to the social failure in sharing I had no money to get on the bus.  I drunkenly pulled out a ten spot but could  not get it in the machine.  Over it the driver just let me ride for free.  John tried swiping his metro card but was too drink to make that happen either.  I think everyone on that bus was just happy none of us vomited.  Apparently we had a deep philosophical conversation before I passed out on Dave’s couch.   The first adventure happened being in the city for less then eight hours.

Lobster Fest

Brennan and I about to put our new friends in the Jacuzzi. Wait is 180 too hot?

I missed the first Lobster Fest last year by about week or so and heard nothing but rave reviews after.  This year when my boy Brennan invited me jokingly on Facebook I decided why not.  It was not like I had anything better to do.  Besides someone had to help cook all the food.  The party was located at Christian’s family’s home in Orinda, a ritzy little suburb just outside of the city.

It was a quaint home with an amazing view.  They had this cute little antique stove that took a few minutes to get acquainted with before being able to work with it.  We had over two dozen lobsters to cook, I made a rice pilaf and roasted potatoes.  The boys grilled up some vegetables.  Their friend Andy, another crazy mofo who happened to find his way down to Santa Barbara a few years ago to party brought a few bottles of his own personal home made wine.  He had a Montreux red blend that I found most enjoyable.  I was supposed to meet up with him and see his set up and get a bottle myself but unfortunately had to leave sooner then I had expected.

All I can say is that a solid crew of people showed up.  Everyone ate, drank and had a good old time.  There were some failed pyrotechnics that could have burned the house down.  A drunken attack on a pinata filled with mini-bottles of booze where near death by falling off the balcony fifty feet down lurked in the shadows.  There was a computerized toilet I for one made a point to take full advantage of and a state of the art massage chair that basically had it’s way with me and I pleased for it.  I don’t usually do house parties but I must say this one was top notch.  You can definitely count on seeing Chris Lisanti at Lobster Fest 2013.
The Surfing
While going up to SF is never about the good surf you are going to score, especially in the spring time when the winds are primarily bad and swell window finicky.  The one thing you can count on about Ocean Beach is the fact that there will be waves of some kind be it good or bad and no matter the size it will take you way too long to paddle out if caught inside.  I was in the full on frother mode I have been in since winter’s end.  To Mauriello’s dismay I made him surf more then one session I think he would have been more then happy to have lived with out.  You can read about those surf sessions in detail at the May edition of the Surflog, 5-18 through 5-20.

The food!!!
Now keep in mind I am not a fan of food in California in general.  Next to New York I have to say things are lacking.  Maybe that is just my own personal taste.  As far as San Fran is concerned I have no complaints.  Every time I am in that city I eat like a king.  Remember I love jank joints that serve comfort food.  you can take that gourmet shit and shove it up your ass.  I have a serious hankering for luncheonettes.  First morning, well more like afternoon by the time we got back from the crazy night I described earlier in this blog, we hit up this awesome little eatery called Sea Breeze.  The nostalgia from Spring Lake New Jersey had me won over.  Then the food and service were even better.

John and I were still dressed in our out clothes from the night before and our waiter thought we worked in sales.  We hit up this amazing little mom and pop Mediterranean place literally run by a Greek Mom and Pop.  I was enthralled and had to try just about everything on the menu.  John broke the atm machine and I scared this poor lady off most likely being a “cocky prick” as Amber from Wild Cat likes to describe me.  Whatever the case the food was some of the better cuisine of that genre I have ever had.

Finally no one likes an all you can eat Indian lunch buffet better then I do.  SF is full of the places.  The one I picked was all you can eat for like 8 bucks.  By the time we got there the buffet was seriously lacking so we decided to order an Indian pizza “with out pizza sauce” as the menu described it.  Although I would noy call it a pizza by any stretch of the imagination I will say it was very tasty and I would totally get it again.

I love Mediterranean food.mmmmmmm

Bay To Breakers
Finally we get to the main reason I ended up in SF ahead of schedule, Bay to Breakers.  Apparently Every year during this time there is a running race that runs 8 miles across the city and it is a qualifier for the Boston Marathon.  After the race is over around 9am a ridiculous amount of people take to the race course dressed up in costumes drunk and walk the course while drinking and partying in the streets.  This thing is a full on party for miles.  As far as you can see in either direction of the street it is packed with costume clad enthusiasts all going nuts.

I for one found myself hammered by noon.  A bunch of my friends were going dressed as animals thus the group was know as the “party animals”.  I went as Ace Ventura cause you cant have a bunch of animals running around all over town with out the pet detective.  There was every kind of costume imaginable and some people were even naked.  If I had known I could have went naked, well lets just say I would have had a different kind of out fit on or not on.  There were house parties happening along the street on the route.  Some with DJ’s, others with professional bands.  All the parks were filled with parties and some even had people doing trapeze like stunts in the trees.  It was a sight to be seen.  I would with out a doubt recommend giving it a go at least once in your life.  There is a good chance I will be a permanent fixture.

Here I am caught in the middle of all the chaos.

That damn Route 152
My plan was not to leave for a few more days.  My roommate Dan who also came up for Bay to Breakers got screwed over by his ride home and hit me up.  Although exhausted from the long day, heck long weekend for that much I agreed to leave by the early evening.  Being it was a nice night I decided to take the Pacific Coast Highway California Route 1.  The drive alone is a breath taking one weaving down the vista laden Northern California coast.  There was a solar eclipse happening at the same time.   It was definitely the perfect way to cap off an already splendid weekend.

I made sure to stop for a burrito at my favorite burrito place in the entire world located right off the hwy 1 in the heart of Santa Cruz.  There are basically four options once in Santa Cruz for getting back to Santa Barbara.  One can stay on the PCH and keep enjoying the views through Monterrey and the Central coast. Although a very nice drive it also takes double the time.  Since it was already dark there was no point for any more scenery.  Next option is the 17 which runs straight across to San Jose and then links up with the 101S.

The route I like to take is the 183 which cuts across on a southerly angle from Monterrey to Salinas finally linking up with the 101S.  It is the hypotenuse of a right hand triangle and always my choice of route in any circumstance.   Unfortunately I was not paying attention and jumped on the god damn 152, the fourth and worst option.  On a map the 152 in theory looks like the best way to go distance wise.  Topographically it winds through the hills and is only one lane on each side.  It reminded me of driving in New Zealand, but with out all the giant logging trucks zooming past at 60KM.

I ate up about an hour and half of this sketchy road where I was owned by some dare devil chick in a Prius.  I can drive and my Civic totally handles better then her shit car, yet she was traveling easily 15 to 20 miles per hour faster then me around every turn.  Ultimately we all ended up getting stuck behind this RV pulling a trailer  causing us to have to cruise at 25mph for the next 50 miles.  As it turns out the 152 is also supposedly haunted cause of the high accident rate and that back in the 1920’s some sheriff used to hang people along the side of it.  All I can say is that I was a little bit spooked and I did not even know it was haunted.

Well there you have it a fun filled action packed  three days of pure Lisanti mayhem.  Yep all of this you just read went down in a three day span.   I assure I spent the next three days doing absolutely nothing to make up for it.  Look for more adventures that happened over the last month or so to come soon.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »