Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Anger’ Category

Sliding Down The Pole

Posted in Anger, Deep Thoughts, User Choice BLog, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on March 9, 2012| 8 Comments »

This week’s UCB and first of the quarter goes to John Mauriello, despite a challenge and a half set forth by Scotty B involving making home made Four Loco and possibly by own death.  I actually really am considering the challenge, just waiting for the right group of people in Lisanti Land to be down.  It seems like something I would need Micheala for.  John gets 1.5 points for the inaugural UCB.  He suggested I write just how I feel about strip clubs being I was just recently at one for Kooky’s send off.

A Right of Passage

Not condoning what goes on there, going to a strip joint is an American male right of passage when he turns 18 years old. It goes like this, you turn 18 and buy a pack of cigarettes, a lotto ticket and you go to the titty bar.  Yeah maybe you don’t smoke and could give two shits about the lotto.  You buy it because you can, end of story.  For the same reason it is why you should go to the nudey bar.

When I turned 18 I actually did not go to a strip club, per say.  Well I guess I sort of did.  My friend Jay and I (whom would later stab me in the back, et tu brute,  I guess I should have been aware of the Ides of March.  That is a story not for this blog, ever. You will just have to come to court for the skinny on that one) used to hang out at this run down dive in Asbury where I believe Porto is now.  It was called club seduction and it was the raunchiest strip club I have to this day ever been inside of.  They used to let us in under age and serve us alcohol.  The girls dancing were either over weight or anorexic, a few even had track marks on their arms.  All the while pimps would be propositioning us with their girls, drug dealers pushing and every other type of degenerate one could imagine to lurk about such a place.

We never went there for the strippers but the fact that they served us alcohol and the odds of us getting stabbed was rather high.  One night the cops raided the place and we bolted.  I found myself running through the streets of Asbury at 1 am.  Those of you who are lost, Asbury Park, NJ was one of the most run down dangerous towns in the state back then.  Not to mention 80% black, 15% Mexican and 100% bad news especially for two rich white boys.

Rage

After Seduction was shut down for illegal solicitation so ended my strip club days.  It was no matter cause I went off to college anyway.  I got back into town for winter break and my old friend rage tells me I have to come with him to this awesome club.  Skeptical I found myself at yet another strip joint.  Rage owned a convenience store and had plenty of money.  We walk in the door and the bouncer pounds him out.  Then upon entry all the girls cruising about trying to sell lap dances kept coming up, giving him hugs.  Apparently Rage had been spending some money there.  As it turns out the dude would drop around $250 a night and the strippers always tried to go home with him.  When I asked why he never took them he replied “fuck that they are dirty”.  Yet it did not stop him from getting a lap dance from them.

The Stripper Pole

This is one of those things I have never understood about strip clubs: the pole.  When was it decided that it was sexy to watch a woman swing around a six foot pole naked upside down?  I think it is rather entertaining to watch and a skill in its own right.  Come on how has something so bizarre become common place.  I love it even more when non-stripper women who on any given day would demean a stripper will go crazy on a stripper pole any place they find one outside of a strip club.

The Desperation

That is what these places are: dens of desperation.  I always find myself in a state of confusion in such establishments.  If I was in a whore house it would make sense.  Watch what each girl had to offer then buy one for the night.  At a strip club you go into a back room where you pay a women upward of $40 to $100’s of dollars to rub her nasty cootch all over your cloths.  If I drop $100 at the bar I am sure to pick up a woman who will do a lot more then that for me and we will both be satisfied in the morning.

The girls, oh the girls.  Is your self esteem so low that you need to dance for men for money, naked?  Sure the pay is good, but it is also good being a bar tender and one would still get similar attention as a pretty woman.  How is one ever to expect to amount to anything respectable in such line of work?  I may be lonely, but when I walk into a place like that it makes me feel even more alone.  Then again I have never really had a hard time meeting women.  Maybe for some men that kind of attention makes them feel good.  Hey bud wake up, your paying for that attention.

Quarter Rapped Dollar Bills

What is this you ask?  You take a dollar bill and you rap it around a quarter so that now you have a device you can whip a the stripper while she is dancing in attempt to bruise her body.  I went to a strip club in Oceanside once with a guy who literally would stack six quarters and rap them up then beam it at the girls tits.  Had he not regularly dropped hundreds of dollars there I think he would have gotten thrown out.  Recently I had a stripper sit down next to me and say “I drank a  green tea, a latte and a red bull and now I am really horny”.  I was taken aback at first then replied “Wow if I had all that caffeine I would be bouncing off the walls, not horny”.  She did not see the humor in it.

All I can say is that strip clubs in general are a waste of time and money in my opinion.  The occasional visit is a bit enjoyable thanks to the combination of the patrons and strippers. For whatever reason I seem to find my way into one on an annual basis.  One time by accident.  I was in San Francisco visiting Mauriello (For more on that trip read Talk About a Miscommunication) .  We got into a cab after a party had broken up early.  I asked the cabby to take us some place we could meet some pretty girls.  Misunderstanding my request we were dropped off in the strip club district of that town.  When in Rome….

Even Grandma Loves to get all over the pole. Ohhh baby what club does she work at.

Read Full Post »

Covering the High Ground: Power of Ten

Posted in Anger, Surfing, User Choice BLog, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 29, 2012| 5 Comments »

The first Power of Ten of the quarter and the month of February goes to Kooky Kyle, whom also earned himself one bonus point for answering the question posed in the UCB winners blog.  The champ is already off to a strong start.  At this moment he is on a bus to LA to catch a plane bound for New Zealand and the next chapter of his adventures.  Don’t worry there will be plenty of Kooky’s Korner entries written by him about his escapades in the land of the sheep.  I for one am very proud of the kid.  He also carried himself quite well last night at the strip club.

Now they are not really my cup of tea, but the guy had never been to one at 23.  I am sorry but it is a straight man’s right of passage to go to the titty bar at 18 and get a lap dance.  I think he was a bit mortified by the whole thing.  I don’t blame him.  Strip clubs are some of the lowest forms of our civilization.  Nothing says I give up like that.  The strippers have given up their personal dignity and pride and so have the customers.  I would rather buy a pretty girl a nice meal for 100 bucks then have her dance on my lap naked.  Maybe that is me just romanticizing life again.  Anyway lets get back to the power of ten cause this can of worms is a whole different blog for another time.

1.  The Barf Barrel – This could be a blog in itself and it may have been written back in the early myspace days.  When I was a junior in high school  Mac Donalds had this promotion, twenty five cent cheese burger Tuesdays or something.  My boy Odie and I on the way to an after school surf decided to stop and pick up $10 bucks worth.  That is forty burgers!  We scarfed that shit down then went up to the beach.  Turns out it was firing.  Solid 6-8ft and barrels everywhere.  We ran out there and began tearing it up.  Well it did not take long for the indigestion to set in.  By my fourth wave I as not feeling so well.  I was sitting out there in agony when this perfect left bowl came right to me.  All the boys started hooting and hollering.  I was the deepest so I had to go.  I sucked it up and paddled into the wave.  Upon dropping in I was ensconced in the pit.  It was solid, so wide I could drive my Honda Civic through it.  Half way into the ride I felt my lunch coming up with a vengeance. Sure enough I spewed right into the face of the wave.   Then I proceeded to watch the vomit go up the face and around the tube.  I basically surfed through a barrel of my own throw up.  I barfed another two times on the paddle back out and then was fine for the rest of the afternoon.  Odie lost his lunch too.  It was a pretty great session.  My buddy Jason saw the whole thing from the side while he was paddling back out.  Said he almost blew chunks as a result too.

Barf Barrel

Just Imagine seeing a streak of vomit coming over me and that would have been what the Barf Barrel looked like.

2. Surf Lingo – On the whole I find surf lingo rather ridiculous and somewhat demeaning to surfers, especially when used by non surfers who have no idea what they are  talking about.  There are some instances where surf lingo or surf speak as I like to refer to it is necessary.  That is for certain feelings, emotions and circumstances that can only happen while surfing and be experienced by a surfer.  It is for those reasons certain surf speak was created.  There were no other words in the human language to describe such.  Barrel, tube, pit, larrel, lip, mush burger, green room, slotted, etc. are all terms to describe different parts of the wave/ride.  They have meaning in the English language but none of those definitions fit their meaning in surfing.  Kook, ripper, shredder, sweeper, sponger, wahine, loc, heavy, punk etc.  are all terms that describe different types of  surfers and abilities. What I am saying is I am fine with surf lingo when used among surfers, but outside of our sub culture I find it brass and idiotic.  When the non-surfing use it I just feel insulted and outraged.  If I have to explain it you won’t understand anyway.

3. Worst Surf Trip  – Santa Barbara is the worst surf trip that I have ever took cause I have been stuck on it for the last five years.  Just kidding.  Truthfully I really can’t think of a bad surf trip.  Even the ones where the waves were awful I still managed to surf my brains out and have a great time.  A few years back I probably would have had a whole list for you.  These days as I look back over all my travels I am grateful for every single one.  Traveling is one of the most amazing things a person can do.  It is an amazing world out there with endless possibilities.  If surfing is the outlet one must use to get out there and see what there is to see then good on ya.  I know if I was not a surfer I most likely would not have went to half the places I have been.  These days most of the trips I take are non surfing trips and so are many of the ones I hope to some day take on.  I really want to go to Italy for a few months, back to my native country and see all the sights, eat the food, maybe even cook the food.  I want to see Stonehenge.  Bottom line there is no such thing as a bad trip except for the ones not taken.

4.  Vagrancy – I guess at one time I was classified as a vagrant and have definitely put up my share of them here in Lisanti Land.  I believe everyone ought to have a period of his/her life spent as a vagabond living by the seat of their pants, traveling from place to place on a wing and prayer with no destination in mind.  I did it for years and it was amazing.  At some point life catches up to you and then you to make a decision.  Believe me I have plenty of friends who were all former vagrants now living very stable lives.  Heck I am one of them.  Shit I just put 2gs into my apartment.  If that is not stable I don’t know what is.  Career vagrants and I do not get along.  I hate bums.  Quite frankly there are way to many of them here in the city of Santa Barbara.  I have a good mind to go sit down with the mayor ask her to deputize me, give me a van, a clan of Pinkertons and let me clean up the town.  No questions asked.  That is a whole different blog entirely.

These guys need to go. I pay too much money to live in this town to put up with their shit.

5. Garbage Can Books – I find more great books in the garbage then I buy.  Its rather alarming to me as a writer myself.  Here I am working on a master piece of a novel that I know is most likely to be thrown in the trash.  Its probably a terrible work, but my delusional ass likes to think it is good.  The other day I picked The Portrait of Dorian Grey, The Canterbury Tales, Tess of the d’urbervilles among other great titles from a trash pail.  It was shocking.   Books are all we have as a civilization.  You know what made us “civilized” and I use that term lightly considering my thoughts and beliefs on the human race, reading and writing.  If you finished a book and do not want it any more pass it along to someone else.  That is the best way to share a piece of yourself with others.  I always give my extended guests a book upon their entrance to the Lisanti Palace.  I try to tailor the selection to a work I feel will fit their character and current situation in life.  Sometimes I will use a work to teach a lesson of sorts.  For example when I was pretty sure my ex-girlfriend was cheating on me I gave her a copy of Gustav Flaubert’s Madam Bovary read.  If you do not understand why, read the book cause it is a beautiful tragic love story.

6. Alfie and the Dish Cloth – I am a bit of push over with my pets.  I hate being a disciplinarian especially with my pets.  Neither was my ex-wife.  As a result Alfie grew up with not the best manners.  More times then not during dinner hour he would have to be thrown off the table repeatedly.  Then when my drug addict roommate Nick was passing out all over the apartment (who by the way I am happy to say is in England going through rehab and hopefully cleaning up his life.  Nick I am proud of you man.  Stay on the course.  Your too good for that shit.) Alfie had free reign over all the food that was constantly getting left out or spilled.  Now before we go any further let me say I am not a fan of animal abuse and that I love my cat.  Please do not go calling the ASPCA on me.  One day after feeling a bit sad and then angry over the Adrienne situation I was eating dinner ALONE!  Alfie jumped up on the table and tried to grab my food.  I lost it snagged the dish cloth and rat tailed him.  I got him pretty good too.  So every time Alfie gets out of line all I have to do is pick up the dish cloth and begin to roll it and he bolts.  My dinner parties all run a ton smoother now.

7. Girls Destroying Clothing – I have had a startling amount of clothing ruined by women.  I cannot even tell you the number of button down shirts that I had all or most of the buttons ripped off in the heat of passion.  One in particular wrecked five of my best shirts.  I have had pants ruined because the zipper got torn off.  Fuck I know if tore off an expensive designer dress on some chick she would be pissed as hell about it.   I remove clothing in a sexy yet respectable manner.  I am not even going to get into the number of outfits I had ruined on me as a result of vomiting.  Ladies c’mon.  I know I am irresistible, but does my wardrobe have to suffer for it?

8. Best …Lost Moment – The company …lost has for the greater span of their life as a surf brand been known as anti surfers surf company.  In other words they full on touted the party hard, surf less, miss contests, cause trouble, derelict surf life style rather then the clean cut, mellow, guitar playing, life loving drug/alcohol free positive surfer portrayed by the majority of the industry.  As a result they built up a team of quite the group of characters and a following even worse.  Then they put out these series of films in the early 2000’s documenting and glorifying said lifestyle.  It was very entertaining and there were plenty of out of control moments.  Girls falling down flights of stairs, drunken stair surfing, Randal who was this bum they found living under the pier in Oceanside and paid in booze to allow the team to abuse.  He got his hair lit on fire on many occasion.  There were drunken fights, under age riders chugging pitchers of beers for $20, going over the falls at huge shore break Mexico in an inner tube, having a surfing dog burn some of the best pros at Lowers.  It was insane.  The best moment and I think the entire surf world is with me on is this one is this clip when pro surfer Strider pulled the g-string of some 15 year old girl on the beach in Mexico, called her a slut then jumped back in his jeep and drove away from “Whats really goin wrong”.

I could not find the clip, but this trailer gives a decent idea of what …lost was all about.  The side of surfing everyone knows exists, but don’t want to talk about.

9.  Covering Your Tracks –  This can go for anything in life, but in surfing it is about hiding either where your surfing or surfed to keep the crowds down.  For example in Cape Hatteras, NC the sand bars are constantly shifting.  A good bar can be around for a day or a week or so.  When such occurs initially it is uncrowded.  Then some one goes and tells his friend, who tells his friend, who tells his friend and so on and so forth.  Next thing you know the place is mobbed the next day.  To keep this from happening many of us like to park not right on the spot, drive cars that are not obvious surf cars, I have seen people go as far as hiding their cars behind dunes and then literally covering up the tire tracks.  I once told a buddy of mine I was surfing shitty blown out Ventura, all the while looking at perfect Loons with no one out.  I knew that guy had a big mouth and I was not about to tell him where I was so he could show up with ten bros.

1o. Animal Print – I am a sucker for animal print.  It drives me wild.  When I see a chick wearing any kind of animal print outfit I am immediately turned on.  It brings out our most primal of instincts.  For that reason my bedding has always contained some form of animal print.  Currently I am running with zebra print satin sheets.  Ohhhhh yeahhh, high class.  As I am writing this I have a leopard comforter around me from a former bed set.  Maybe that is why I have all my cloths torn off by women?

Read Full Post »

#@$% Valentine’s Day

Posted in Anger, Deep Thoughts, Life, tagged on February 15, 2012| 3 Comments »

You can fill in whatever four letter word that works for you in the title, kind of like those word books when I was kid, Mad Lips.  I do not believe I need to tell any of you out there the words I wish to fill in.  I have always hated this stupid ridiculous made up holiday.  I mean seriously was it created to make people feel bad or add to alcohol, drug and domestic abuse?

If you have a Valentine then it is a headache trying to make the day special for her.  The main reason is not because of a lack of love, but because every other idiot with a girl friend out there is trying to do the same thing.  End result, everything is crowded, over priced, over zealous.  You get frustrated cause you are blowing it.  She gets frustrated then upset, because you blew it.  She cries, then locks herself in the bathroom while you rub one out and go to sleep.  If your relationship lasts you get to hear about how you blew it for as long the two of you are together.

If your single things can play out in a few different scenarios, all start the same way: depression followed by drinking.   Now if your desperate and cant handle the idea of being alone you go out and call every female you know in hope that you can set up some type situation that will be even remotely close to a date.  Sticking dollar bills down your favorite stripper’s g-string does not count, neither do lap dances.  The date is awkward since you called her out of desperation and she most likely said yes  for the same reason.  After you both go your separate ways, she goes home locks herself in the bathroom and cries.  You go home, rub one out and go to sleep.

Next option: both male and female parties decide to go out in search of a “valentine for the night”.   For many years I have enjoyed time with plenty of women on Valentine’s Day who were looking to have a man for the night to reduce their loneliness.  End result here, next morning she goes home (hopefully, cause when it happens in your bathroom it is quite the nuisance) locks herself in the bathroom and cries.  Like most one night stand bar hook ups you feel even more alone.  In my case I have to wash the sheets on my bed, open my windows  and most likely sleep on the couch cause I can not handle the repugnant smell of casual sex.   If you do not meet a chick then you go home rub one out and go to sleep alone and miserable.

Finally I tried a different route this year.  Initially my plan was to go with the above option.  Then after giving it some  thought decided I would rather just sit home and empty a nice bottle Beaujolais I have been sitting on for such the occasion into my liver.  If you are going to depression drink at least do it with some class.  I have been fighting off this cold for the past week and decided getting absolutely shit house was a bad idea ( what? me really?).  I hung out with my roommates watched a few  episodes of Seinfeld from my box set (Kooky and I are trying to get through the whole thing before he leaves) and now I am writing this.

Maybe it is a step in the right direction.  All I can say is that a fucking broken heart sucks.   I have taken a lot injuries in  my life, but this hurts more then anything and it is completely fictitious.  I am not whining, well not that much anyway just stating a fact.  I find myself more times then not hating the fact that I am alone, but hating the idea of being with anyone.  How is that for an oxymoron?  The worst part is there are a couple of cool women floating around my life at the moment yet I just cant do it.  For now I prefer the company of total strangers.  When they leave in the morning I barely remember their names, in some cases am still too drunk to really even see what they look like and know that most likely I will never see any of them again.

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone.  All I am going to say is that if you have a Valentine take care of her and ladies appreciate the effort your man has made for you.  A relationship is about more then one stupid day out of the year.  It is about how the interaction is day in and day out.  In my opinion flowers for no reason is far more commendable then flowers on a day where it is EXPECTED!!!  Now if you don’t mind I am going to rub one out and go to sleep.

I was walking on Lead Better the other day and saw this sand sculpture. Its rather classic. I guess that dude was really over women.

Read Full Post »

How Fast the Pendulum Can Swing: Christmas Dread Part III

Posted in Anger, Life, News From Lisanti Land, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 29, 2011| 10 Comments »

Lost? Get filled in by Reading Part I and Part II 

Have you ever seen that movie “The Hang Over”?  The last 36 hours I have been living it and let me tell you I still do not have any answers.  Instead I have a barely coherent tale pieced together from fuzzy logic, Kooky’s barely cognizant memory and lots of speculation.  Oh “ALCOHOL, CAN’T LIVE WITH OUT IT, NO DOUBT ABOUT IT”! How you have fucked with me since I started drinking at ten years old.

I have no idea what we were thinking.  I guess it all started with the strip club being closed.  On Christmas!?! How absurd is that.  Initially The plan West and I hatched on Christmas Eve was that we would all blow a lot of coke thus making it a white Christmas and then go to the titty bar from 7-9pm.  First we ruled out the cocaine for obvious reasons.  Remember I may be a drunk, but drugs have never really been my bag.

The Strip club, well that was just plain good sense.  All those lonely strippers too embarrassed to go home for the holidays due to their profession.  Us, three lonely bachelors looking for love in all the wrong places.  Then we found out Kooky had never been to a strip joint before.  It all made perfectly good sense.

Around 9ish we got to the strip club and it was closed to our utter dismay.  I had $20 bucks set aside for Kooky to get a lap dance and another $40 in singles for the girls.  Christmas dollars for everyone.  If that is not wonderful spreading of the holiday cheer I just don’t know what is.  (discloser: I actually am not a fan of strip clubs and honestly would rather spend my time and money at the bar where at least there is a chance the women may come home with me. These days I am told Trader Joes is the place to meet women except I can’t stand that place.  So I figure anyone who shops there I most likely would not care for either.  The only thing worthwhile to come out of that place is their wine selection. Two buck chuck not included!)

Wow, that was off topic.   I need to see a therapist…an Asian message therapist that is.  “Sir, would you like the happy ending?”  You bet your ass I do.  Last time I went for an Asian message they beat the living shit out of me.  I mean seriously it felt like I had six people kicking and punching me while the seventh held me down.  It was rather disturbing, but that is a blog for another day.

No Strip club, boo hoo.  We decided to dry our tears with rum and cokes and tequila shots at the Wild Cat in dedication to Sancho Clause.  This is after a few shots at home, Kooky drinking some moonshine out of a jar his boss gave him and mini-shots at JJ’s.  Yeah, you know the definition of insanity. Sound familiar if not then you did not read Part II of this very saga.

Hold the phone!  Who is Sancho Clause?  Sancho Clause is this character my co-worker Kevin and I created and is the Mexican ghetto version of our Santa Clause.  He is 5’3” over weight has a white beard but a black mustache, wears a sombrero and a Mexican flag colored poncho.  Instead of reindeer and a sleigh he rides in a 1986 Chevy Monte Carlo low rider with rims pulled by a dozen donkeys.  You don’t leave him cookies and milk, instead a bottle of Jose Cuervo and a copy of Hustler.  He does not leave you presents opting to take your presents, beat you with a lead pipe and rape your wife.  Ole. (Disclosure2: I am not a racist I hate and make fun of everyone and actually find the company of Mexicans most times more enjoyable then most Americans.)

After that round of shots I don’t remember a Goddamn thing.  All I know is that I woke up to Kooky pounding on my door at eight in the morning.  “I don’t want to surf right now” I yelled to him.  “Get up West got arrested, we have to go get him out” he replied.  “What?!!!!!” Kooky I think I got punched really hard in the side last night cause my ribs really hurt” I got out of bed and was barely able to walk.  Apparently I hurt my knee as well.  I limped to the bathroom and screamed.

Running the length of four to five of my ribs was a giant bruise and it hurt when I tried to breath or raise my arm.  I had no idea how any of this happened, my injuries or West’s arrest.  It was off to the jail to hopefully get some answers.

By now I have become a pro at this morning routine picking up more then one friend there after a crazy night.  Nick the Kook was a member of that club just this past January.  That is another story for another blog too.  We get there and It turns out they can’t let him out till ten.  To add insult to injury Kooky accidentally locked the key to my car inside it.  At that point him and I are sitting outside the jail waiting for AAA to come and unlock my car.  Both of us still drunk from the night before.  Forget AAA someone needs to call AA and have them haul my sorry ass away.

In the interim I got a call from West which ended with “Lisanti get me out of this box!”.  Things were a bit out of hand.  By this point it was 9am and with an hour to kill I did the only thing I knew in such situations.  After triple A got us back in the car Kooky and I went to Denny’s.  Somehow no matter how bad things look they always seem better after a janky Denny’s Breakfast and right now they have this build your own Grand Slam breakfast for $5.  We coupled it with an order of Ice Cream and red velvet hush puppies. YUM!

Following a meal like that how could anything be all that bad?  By the time we scarfed down breakfast West got out and we even threw a three stack of pancakes in a doggy bag for him.  Turns out he got charged with drunk in public, a common offense around here and one yours truly has been accused of and theft.  The latter definitely threw us a curve ball.  What could he have possibly stolen at 2am?  Of course he did not remember anything more then I did.

Now we went into crime solving mode.  The arrest took place at 7-11.  I assumed he must have walked in there wasted and waked out with a doughnut or something.  We rolled over there and the manager checked the tapes, called the night guy and came up with nothing.  We went to every government bureaucracy in Santa Barbara to no avail.  One cop told us not to worry and that it was most likely something stupid he would have to pay a fine for.

Here is what I have pieced together of what actually happened from 10pm on the 25th of December till 8am of the 26th.  According to Kooky another round of whiskey shots was done. Him and I danced on the cat walk while two gay guys attempted to put dollars in our pants (can you see the irony here cause I can).  In the process of dismounting from said place I most likely caused the injury to my knee.  We took a picture on my cell phone with some Norwegian girl, whose boyfriend was not amused.  Kooky and I signed out our tabs, collected our jackets and took a cab home.

Upon coming home we believe thanks to a testimony supplied by my roommate Ryan claiming he heard a scream, that I most likely fell entering my room and hit the corner of my night stand with my side. Judging from the shape, size and damage of the bruise it makes plenty of sense.  I remember waking up fully dressed in the middle of the night on the floor and crawling to my bed as well.  Kooky passed out on the little couch, which always seems to be the drunken choice for someone at the end of a “going hard” night.  As far as West goes we assume he got separated from us at some point stumbled around town lost for at least thirty minutes, got half way home eventually apprehended by the police.

Like I said all that is pure inference based on my gathering evidence over the last 36 hours.  Now my ribs are all busted up, my knee is fucked so I can’t surf at the present moment.  Poor West has to come back up here for a court date.  All as a result of being drunk and stupid.  For  me this was my wake up call.  Sure it did not come in the form of the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future, but it was more then enough for me.

I am too old for this shit.  In three days it will be 2012 and I mean it.  I really am going to take my life back and this time I am going to make it count.  There will be no more lamenting about Adrienne.  I miss her like crazy, but I have to stop letting that pain ruin my life.  I registered for a full schedule of classes, will be working full time at Westmont and have already and should be done by early January with all the renovations on the Lisanti Palace.  Things are going to start picking up here in Lisanti Land in the positive.

Wild Cat Drunkards

Part of the evidence: Kooky, The Norwegian girl, Myself and half of West's face. Actually we wanted the bitch to take a picture of the three of us but then she decided to be in it making her bf take the pic, pissing him off and cutting off West.

Chris Lisanti is a dumb shit

There it is folks some heavy body damage courtesy of drunkenness.

 ****Post Script 12/29 1:33pm PST****
West hit me up today and it turns out he was arrested because he passed out in the back of a Taxi Cab.  The theft charge was  him not paying the fare.  All he has to do to get it dropped is pay for the taxi ride and he is in the clear.  The drunk in public like I said earlier is no big deal either.  Getting that offense is a  Santa Barbara right of passage.  I actually surfed today as well.  Check out the December ’11 Surflog for more on that.

Read Full Post »

Oh Billy!!?!

Posted in Anger, Life, News From Lisanti Land, tagged , , , , , , , , , on December 21, 2011| 6 Comments »

I promised myself I would write something significant this week.  Then Kooky Kyle forgot to pay the the cable bill and the swines turned off my internet.  After a round about phone conversation with a very nice sounding operator named Mindy I found myself paying way too much money to keep my “high speed” connection going.  Here is a quick play by play on how that conversation went.  Remember while reading this that I AM AN ASSHOLE.

Me: I went to log onto my internet today and surprisingly it said I needed to call customer service.
Mindy: Let me check your account.  As it turns out you owe us $84 USD in unpaid bills.
Me:  Really, that is surprising cause I know I sent a check in last month.
Mindy: Well sir it looks like you only paid $75 of the $89 you owed us and then there was no payment for December so we turned you off.
Me: Well I guess that is one way to get my attention.  So Mindy why do you think I only paid $75. Is it because you think I am stupid and did not know how to read my bill correctly?
Mindy: No sir I am not calling you stupid.  Maybe you just misunderstood.
Me: MISUNDERSTOOD!!! Wait are you calling me a retard who cannot read a bill correctly (this is most likely true).  I feel completely insulted right now.  It is a good thing you caught me on a good day or I might have hung up the phone and proceeded to slit my wrists in my bath tub.  Do you really want my suicide on your head Mindy.
Mindy: Sir, no I did not insinuate you should kill yourself at all.
Me: Thats right you didn’t, I did.  You know I am actually a rather smart man.  It baffles me that you think I am dumb.
Mindy: Ummm, sorry sir, uh. So your internet will be back on anywhere from eight to forty eight hours.
Me: I think I need to talk your superior cause I feel rather slighted here.
Mindy: I will transfer you…..Click

The bitch hung up on me and I was too lazy to call back.  over $100 later I got my internet back.  Hooray for monopolies.  I thought my trust busting friend Roosevelt took care of such bullshit.  I guess not.  That is the problem with these utility companies they can do whatever they want cause they know they got you by the balls.  Just for that I have a bit of fun with their customer service representatives.  I am sure Mindy got a good laugh or cry out of our little conversation together.  I hope she did not decide to slit her wrists.

As I was saying I wanted to write about something significant, but after all that hassle I guess I am just back to writing about “money, hoes and rims again”.  Tell me where that is from and who says it in the comments for 1 extra UCB point!  Actually that is an oxymoron since I have no money, no hoes and my car does not have rims :(.  I guess that means I am just writing absolute gibberish as usual, but you are reading it.

I posted some quality shit in the December ’11 edition of the surflog.  There are five new action packed sessions if you want some thing to read.  This week I am going to write two UCB’s. At the moment I am not married to any topics put down so if you have something I would post it.  The power ten is also still up for grabs.  This month’s winner may come down to the power of ten.  Besides that I have some fun comical stuff to post, a new recipe, and maybe even another short story.  Don’t give up on me yet.  If anything blame Kooky, but then again maybe just blame Adrienne since we here in Lisanti Land have decided that all my problems and those of my friends in the last six months can be tied back to her in some way or another.  I know real adult.  Then again life is all about passing the buck.

Its not my fault. Never!

This guy must be a cable company executive. I bet he has money, hoes and rims.

The cable company is not going to get his guys balls...

Read Full Post »

I Blame Bob!

Posted in Anger, Life, News From Lisanti Land, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on December 7, 2011| 8 Comments »

I have ranted on this topic more then once in this blog, but here I go again anyway.  I hate automotive repair.  First off I have no idea about anything in the field thus making me susceptible to every sinister guy in the business.  Now I know a thing or two and am someone when on my full game is not to be reckoned with.  I can sell ice to a mother fucking Eskimo.  Shit I sold a surfboard once to a guy who lived in Ohio.  Put me in a situation where I have limited knowledge and I find myself a bit on the ignorant side.  Here is a story how a minor brake job became an adventure, cause in Lisanti Land nothing is ever minor.

I do a ton of driving. If you are serious about surfing in Santa Barbara it is a reality that you are putting at least eighty miles a day on your car, unless of course you enjoy surfing crap at Lead Better.  As a result I need to keep my whip in the best working order possible.  When my brakes started squeaking this past Saturday I knew it was time to get it looked at.  My roommate Ryan knew a guy who he claimed to be cheap and good.  I like cheap and good is even better. Throw in a free cup of coffee and box of ring dings and I would marry that guy.

I go over to Bob’s make shift little garage over on Milpas St.  at 11am on Monday.  I asked him how long he though and he said two hours.  No worries. I cruised home, studied for my baking final, took my baking final.  Got home around 4pm and still no word from good old Bob.  I call him up and here is what I got “well uh?  yeah the civic. ummmmm?????, funny story. We ended up getting the wrong size brake pads.  They are about 2mm too big.  Man thought we were going to nail it too”.  Astounded I was about to lose my cool, but I was standing on the bluff above Lead Better watching the sun set, just taking in the beauty of the world around me.

I was calm.  I took a deep breath and remembered that I am not in New Jersey, but in California where the concept of time  and responsibility is well, a bit less understood.  “Bob” I reply “I must say I am a bit disappointed in you and your operation. I needed my car back in the morning and now I do not have one.”  Bob said “yeah that is unfortunate, its a real bummer we got the wrong part”.   I took another long breath, got a grip of my emotions and said “Yep Bob it is really unfortunate and a real bummer.  I guess I will see you tomorrow then.”  “I promise Chris it will be done first thing in the morning”.  “What time do you think that will be around Bob?” I asked.  “10:00am”.

I hung up and threw one of my standard tantrums.  ‘Fuck you Bob you stupid mother fucking moron.  Its a real bummer indeed, for me. Fuck, Stupid ass Californian.  Breaks should take less then two hours, I know worked at a fucking gas station for two years.   C’mon Bob, C’mon man’.  I thought about going there and kicking his ass, but that would just mean I would have to fix my own breaks.  If I had that skill I would not have needed Bob in the first place.  I was frustrated to say the least.

My phone rang again and it was Bob.  Excited that maybe he figured something out I picked up.  “Hey Chris I just thought of something.  I have a buddy who drives a cab and he can hook it up if you need a ride”.  What?  Hook it up? What does that mean exactly.  That was Bob’s ingenious solutions???  I thanked him for the very kind offer and hung up.

My only saving grace was the bag of Nachos I had in my hand that I made at work on Friday.  Some how they still were not soggy.  It was classic. Ryan and I were standing there looking rather homeless eating chips out of a grease stained brown paper bag we kept passing back and forth.  Anyone walking by just figured we were two bums sharing a 40oz.  Yep nothing but big things for me in life folks.  Then I thought about hanging myself, but as usual I could not find any rope long enough or strong enough.  Since Bob had my car it was not like I could go to the store and procure some.  Another suicide attempt foiled in the planning stage by pure laziness oh and of course BOB!!!!

Still alive, who should come walking down the gnarl trail from Oceano?  None less then Kooky Kyle all dressed up like a real estate agent or something.  He grabbed the bag of chips for a hand full as well.  As it turns out he needed a ride to some hotel on the water front to apply for a bell boy job.  That kid is a go getter.  Ryan lent Kooky his truck parked in the car port.  Now Kooky not used to driving a large truck, not to mention the fact that my car port is the worst designed thing I have ever seen in my life, ended up catching the side of the truck on the side of the building thus knocking off Ryan’s side view mirror.

Another calamity caused by the incompetence of Bob.  Now Kooky has to get Ryan’s truck fixed.  Santa Barbara is like prison, you go in for a minor sentence and get stuck for twenty years cause you killed a guy in fight to save your own skin.  I had been invited to a pot luck dinner party that night.  Usually I do my own meals at the Lisanti Palace, but I thought a change of scenery might be nice and Lindsay said there would be some girls there.  I am trying to force myself to try and date a little bit.  I feel like it is the only way I am ever going to move on.  I cooked up Fettuccine Florentine.  Fettuccine Rigate, mixed with a creamy Alfredo sauce, sauteed spinach, summer squash, zuchini and portobello mushrooms.  I topped the whole thing off with chopped heirloom tomatoes.   It was quite the dish if I do say so myself.

Then I was faced with the dilemma of how to get there.  I was banking on getting a ride from Ryan.  When I went to get him dude was cutting z’s in his bed.  I was not about to wake the guy and after the Kooky incident not about to take the truck either.  Kooky and I decided to hoof it with the hopes of hitching.  At this point I am walking up Cliff Dr. towards Albertson’s with a roasting pan full of pasta and two oven mits on my hands.  Kooky was behind me with his thumb out and a bottle of Syrah.  Lucky for us we got picked up only about 1/4 of the way up.

They were nice enough to drop right in front of the house we wanted to go to.  I with my weak ass sense of direction had us walk the wrong way up the street, before realizing we were right in front of the place.  The dinner party was a mix of angry east coasters, hipsters and hippies.  Sounds like there could have been a fight.  Good thing everyone was happily liquored up.  I had a great time eventually stumbling home at midnight.  Thanks Bob for all the extra exercise!

Next morning I woke up and headed over to my good friend Bob’s to collect my car.  I got there just before ten only to see my car still on blocks and no work done.  I asked Bob how long he thought and he replied “two hours”.  Two hours from when Bob!?!  I decided to walk down to Winchells this dank doughnut place for some breakfast.  Its funny but comparatively walking down Milpas in conjunction to Sate St it is like a whole different country.  There are all these janky little Mexican shops.  Some tweaker bald black lady yelled some profanity at me.  There were gang bangers, day laborers, homeless and degenerates every where.  The restaurants are a little bit more sketchy. I really thought today might have been the day I was going to get that stabbing I have patiently been hoping for.

I got to Winchells and enjoyed a bagel breakfast sandwich, doughnut and cup of tea while reading some of the more obscure short stories of Hemingway.  You think I am negative pick up some of that guys works.  I finally understand his pain.  He carried the pain of a woman for the rest of his life.  That is what real love is maybe, not being able to move on.  I can respect that in a man.  As for myself I think I am finally paying for my misdoings in life.  If that is the case then I really do understand why now.

I cruised back to Bob’s around noon (once again not getting stabbed or even challenged) and my car is still on blocks.  By this point I was over it and just sat down on a pile of old tires and read more.  Finally at 1pm my car was done.  I got Bob to kick down the price by $50 bucks for my inconvenience.  That is how a two hour break job ends up taking 26 hours and all the events that ensued as a result.  For now on I am just going to blame all my problems on Bob!  Bob Ruined MY LIFE.

Here is an alternate form of transportation Bob could have suggested.

Read Full Post »

Things That Are Insane…

Posted in Anger, Deep Thoughts, News From Lisanti Land, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 4, 2011| 4 Comments »

If you have not noticed the amount of blogs featured here on SurfingRuinedMyLife.net have become a bit limited, sort of like a fine vintage of a great bottle of Bordeaux.  Ok its not really like that at all.  Things have been a bit busy and my mood and spirits shift up and down like a crazy carnival roller coaster.  “Better to have loved and lost then not loved at all” I find myself in a constant struggle whether to agree or disagree with such.  I know I need to handle my shit and I think things are getting better.  I had a tough go a few weeks ago thanks to a certain circumstance that I am not really ready to discuss here.

I need more time to stew on it, come to terms with the results a bit.  Check out the November Surflog, 11/19 for a little on what happened there.   All I will say is that I am still in a state of constant amazement of the world around me, but more so on the way things have panned out for me at the moment.  I guess it could be worse.  I could be a heroine addict  and then not only be unhappy but also slowly killing myself with a filthy drug addiction.  Believe me after being through two heroine addict roommates back to back in the last four months It makes me feel a bit better about being a drunk.  As they say in Casablanca:

Nazi Guy: Nationality?
Rick: Drunkard
French Inspector: That would make Monsieur Nick a citizen of the world.

I think a great number of people out there drink in excess, but are afraid to admit it to themselves.  The first step is always admittance after all.  Then the next step is deciding if it is a problem or not.  I am still in the midst of the second step.  One thing for sure I will never give up my vin.  What the fuck is all this random ranting about? Well I think it is time to fill everyone in on what has been going down in Lisanti Land the last few weeks.  I am going to try something new this time and I hope it is entertaining.

“And with Daren’s Help We got that Chicken”

Me and Penny, the coolest Chicken in the world!

 There was this episode of Seinfeld entitled “The Voice” and it ran in the 9th and final season of the show.  Kramer gets this business intern fraudulently from NYU and then loses him when the school realizes “Kramerica Industries was no more then a man, and an apartment that may or may not contain a chicken”. Kooky now following in my footsteps working as a stock boy at Mesa Produce, the same place I got my start here in SB (look at me now kids, still partying at the Wild Cat whooot! The more things change the more they stay the same.  I came out here to get over a woman, only to meet another and then have her leave me right back where I started) happened to come across the opportunity to get a free chicken.

How could I say no to that.  The plan was since the chicken was useless, too old to lay eggs I thought it would be a grand idea to use her in a Recipe D’Jour feature called how to make a Chicken from Scratch similiar to the  “How to make a Pumpkin Pie from Scratch” feature only a bit more deranged and disturbing.  Then again it has been a year since that blog was written and that is exactly what Lisanti Land has become these days.  I was all ready to take my meat cleaver to her head.  Then one morning after a tough night out I was sitting in my backyard in an attempt to find inner peace and wisdom within the confines of my serenity garden.  Who jumps into my lap but the Chicken.  I was petting her and she was clucking and all seemed alright.

I promised her she would not die by my hands.  Unfortunately chickens are really messy animals and shit all over the place.  You know that expression where people say this sucks worse then chicken shit.  Let me tell you that chicken shit sucks pretty bad.  I built this ghetto rigged coup out of some chicken wire I found in the trash a while back and some broken picture frame I found for Ade’s to use as an art project once upon a time.  It was rather makeshift but did the job.  Well about two days ago Penny found her way out of the pen and has not been heard from since.  Ryan and I think the Mexican gardener who always comes into my garden and fucks up my plants stole her.  Kooky thinks she got eaten by one of the many predatory creatures that would love to make a meal out of a poor defenseless chicken.  In my fantasy land I like to think that she now lives safely and happily with in the confines of the thickly vined in area behind my building eating bugs and living the high life, whatever that maybe for a chicken.

“But What if it works”

There are good ideas, there are bad ideas and then there are the ideas you have when you are walking home from the bar at 2am drunk as shit.  There we found ourselves Kooky and I about a block from The Kitty on Ortega street staring into a fifty inch projection television set.  “Its does not work” I said.  “But what if it does” Kooky replied.  Next thing I know I am carrying a giant TV across town at 2am.  It was not that heavy just awkward as hell to hold.  We had to make occasional pit stops but only in spots where we could put the thing down on a surface just high enough that the TV could be propped up with out any extra lifting.   We passed some black guy near the Castillo 7-11 and he said “I have seen some stupid ideas in my day but this just may take the cake”.

We passed a cop car, campus security and countless others.  No one stopped us, tried to rob us and we did not get arrested.  Only in California.  In New Jersey we would not have made it one block with that thing.  We made it three miles.  An hour later we got home exhausted only to find out the next morning that it did not work.  Awesome.  We decided to pay it forward and put it outside the building with a sign that read “Free it works :)”.  Don’t ever forget who the king of the assholes is.

Those are the faces of champions...or idiots...you make the call.

Surfing

I needed a woman in my life. “I’m not all bad, but was just drawn that way”

Read the surflog. All my surfing escapades and everything in between winds up there these days.  I do up date it every day.  I did get a new J7 Surfboard. I went a little more robust in the tail this time around.  So far it is going really well for me, although I have only gotten three session on it and have yet to cut its teeth at Rincon.  Time will tell.  Kooky did some dank ass art work on it as well.  Jason is on it these days and you really cant go wrong with a surfboard from him.

School
School has been a pain in the ass as always.  In my baking class I managed to be the only one in my class to pull off a flawless dessert and bread.  Still I was only bestowed a 91 because as my professor put it I did not challenge myself with the dessert.  I made a chocolate almond biscotti.  Besides I had never baked a loaf of bread before and I missed both bread classes thus handicapping myself a bit rather then not challenging myself.  I wanted to do a dry run on the bread at home, but ended up drinking instead.  I went in cold, book in hand and winged it.  Somehow I managed to bake two bad ass loaves if Italian bread.  Now maybe it is my heritage or that the man in the sky decided to cut me a break for a change. Either way I was rather proud of my bread.

How do you like them apples...errr, bread?

In my pantry class It was a group final where we had to produce a grilled chicken salad, eggs Florentine,  Rice Pilaf and a  grilled sandwich.  I did all the cooking, all the knife cuts and the final plating yet somehow was hit with a 5 out of 10 for execution because I mixed my mirepoix together prior to cooking for the pilaf and he was pissed that I missed the last two classes in a row.  Fuck, I cook for a living and most of the class was rather rudimentary for me.  I failed work study cause I did not bother to hand in any of the work and catering cause I did not do any of the work .  Last semester I pulled a 4.0 this semester it is shaping out to be a bit lower then that.  Hey if your not going to be first you might as well be last eh? Here are some shitty quality pictures of the project I took on my cell phone.

The Rice Pilaf severed in a roasted eggplant bowl.

Grilled Chicken Salad molded into primary shapes

The Trifector

So there you have it in a nut shell what has been going down in The Land of Lisanti.  Hope you found a laugh or two from my gnarl.

Read Full Post »

Talk About Behind the Eight Ball

Posted in Anger, Life, Music, Odd Jobs, Surfing, User Choice BLog, tagged , , , , , , , on November 1, 2011| 3 Comments »

I think it is classic Lisanti Land time scheme that I am posting October’s Power of Ten list on the first of November.  My excuse: too much party and real lack of motivation in life. Wait is that an excuse or my modus operandi?  Whatever the case its my blog and I do what I want.  I mean c’mon the last blog I wrote was about having assholes for fingers.  Enough said.  Anyway October’s power ten garnishes two UCB points upon my current housemate and Wild Cat partner in crime Kooky Kyle.

1. Bosses – Bosses fucking suck no matter how you try to disguise it.  Fact of the matter is if someone has the power to tell you what to do and your living relays on that it sucks.  Unfortunately that is how the real world works.  I have been a boss and I am sure my employees hated me too.  As far as the slang term “Boss” goes I cant stand it and when I am called such it usually sends me up into a fit of rage.

2. Job Hunting – Pounding the pavement is tough especially in today’s weak ass economy.  Luckily I have a job and whenever I am in need thanks to some of the insanity on craigslist I always seem to find work.  Hey if the job hunt wears you down you can always join the rest of the unemployed losers down on Wall St.

3.  John at New Jetty – New Jetty is this piece of shit wave I frequent in Ventura.  Most times it is no more then a boostable close out.  The place reminds me of New Jersey and usually if I’m not at Rincon then New Jetty is where I can be found.  Every time I surf there with Mauriello he ends up getting all the best waves of the day while I grovel on garbage all session.  It got to the point where I just started burning him on the good ones cause I am an asshole.

4. Gas Prices – Gas prices are a mystery to me.  When I was in High school I used be able to buy gas for .85 cents a gallon.  Now its nearly four bucks a gallon.  I know oil is a limited resource and all, but I do not believe it is that limited.  Also did we not go conquer like half the Middle East after 9/11?  I think gas should be a hell of a lot cheaper.

5.  The Plumbing in Lisanti Land – My apartment has by far the most ass backward plumbing known to man.  Its all old metal piping from the fifties and every time I need any kind of plumbing service I end up with a giant whole in the wall and a bill for over a few hundred dollars and before that happens I always find myself swimming in a giant pool of sewerage.  I am on the first floor and my plumbing is the end of the main line for the entire building.  When there is a clog you do the math on how much waste backs up on my floor.   Hey at least I have an ocean view.

6. Fleas – Fleas suck. I brought home a baby possum two years ago I found in the middle of the street.  Since then I have been plagued with fleas and so has poor Alfie.  They suck and are impossible to get rid of.  Last time I set off eight bombs in my small apartment and nearly killed myself, yet the little fuckers still prevailed.

7. A Love Supreme – In 1965 Coltrane released A Love Supreme.  It was the first time he took a step away from his hard bob roots and began the free jazz career that changed the face of jazz forever.  It is a pretty bad ass album.

8.  West Swells – Ahh west swells, they are the best out here and also elusive as hell.  When its on it makes for the best surfing here in Santa Barbara then anyplace else on the California coast.  Too bad we only see like three a year.

9.  Funny Things Homeless People Say – The homeless are like children.  They say the darnedest things.   The difference is you never know when a bum might shank you.  I guess one must feel the same about children these days as well.

10. “What is the Worst that can Happen” – This is pretty much my official catch phrase that I use to push myself and others over the edge on a questionable decision or situation.  I sort of feel like everyone should subscribe to this mantra.  I think it would make everyone’s lives more interesting.  I mean seriously what is the worst that could happen?

Read Full Post »

Fuck Off!

Posted in Anger, Deep Thoughts, tagged , , , , , , , on October 26, 2011| 5 Comments »

I’m angry, well saddened mostly, borderline depressed?  I guess that is how it has always been for me, for as long as I can remember.  I don’t think I am a monster, yet I find myself constantly in the midst of being despicable.  Can one be predestined for unhappiness?  For a long time I thought I was evil.  I know now that it is not the case.  I am just pissed off at the world, a world I was never meant to be a part of.

I am a part of this terrene and there for make the best of it most of the time.  I have yet to find anything better.  Most days I find the motivation to get out of bed seriously lacking.  Still I trudge on.  I tell myself “keep on, things are going to get better”. I mean I have to cause it is what I tell everyone else in my life.  I hate lying to my parents that everything is fine, so instead I stopped calling them altogether.  No one likes a pity party and it does them no good to worry.

My dad called me today to find out if I was still alive.  This happens about once ever two weeks or so when I break contact.  He gave me a pep talk that at least got me to go to class where I bombed the written part of my midterm.  I think I got a C and that is all I am shooting for this semester cause I don’t give a fuck.  So much for the 4.0 I swung last semester.  I think most of my class mates take me for arrogant cause I keep to myself and take in as much as I possibly can.

Most people take me for that come to think of it.  Its not that I am arrogant, but more that I have confidence in myself and my own ability.  I am not a bullshitter and I know what I am capable of and not.  I can be honest with myself.  I find that the majority of the population is asleep, just going through the motions of life not really understanding why they do the things they do, almost machine like.  I analyze every thing I do and everything that happens around me probably to my detriment.

With all this thought I still have absolutely no answers.  Then again “a wise man knows that he knows nothing at all”.  When we stop asking questions then are we really living?  I think I am at a serious cross road in my life, a what is next for Chris Lisanti.  For the moment I do not have any answers.  No questions, no answers, that is a verity I must accept.  The mere idea of the assertion of this has been constantly plaguing me.   I know that if I can consent to such a mantra I may be able to get over this hump I find myself  stuck in front of.  Or am I destined to be Sisyphus?  Maybe I have finally reaped what I sowed?

…A brief look into the insanity that is the mind of Chris Lisanti…

He feels my pain.

Read Full Post »

mmm…Chianti….mmmmm…So Drunk

Posted in Anger on October 9, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Me Drunk…….Sooooo Drunk……..Drunk….Wooooo…hooooo…….

Budweiser King of beers,  but this is my queen. I dont even know what I said. Sooo fucked.  Im drunk, your not hah ah ahhahahahahahaha……

Cant believe they never bothered to move on??????

:/

 

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »