Posts Tagged ‘Beer’

This town is freezing.  I was very grateful to have even woken up and not have died of hypothermia in my sleep.  We had a slow start after the previous night’s gallivanting about.  I love nothing better then a good breakfast.  John brought me to this quaint little crepe place in his neighbor hood that was absolutely to die for.  They made like 15 different crepes, and then an assortment of other breakfast items.

I got what they called a California crepe stuffed with egg, avocado, mushrooms, green peppers, tomato and green onions, served over freshly cut home fries and a side salad.  Everything was super fresh.  It tasted amazing.  Then my tea was brewed from the actual leaves, no tea bag and I had to use this tiny strainer to pour it into my glass.  It was a most splendid eating experience.

From there we decided to do a little good old-fashioned hill bombing and street skating.  After all San Francisco is one of the great skate cities in the world.  I personally would put it just second to Barcelona.  “When in Rome…”.  We cruised to Ocean Beach where there is less traffic and an agreeable number of very long hills.  I am talking easily 15-20 city block bombs that took around 5-8 minutes to get to the bottom of.

Before getting into the skate session we took a quick peak at the surf, which courtesy of 40-knot onshore wind was complete trash.  The wind was so strong we could not even stand on the dunes to look at it directly because of the sheer volume of sand blowing around.  Street surfing would have to do.

Now I have not skated since John was living at my place over the summer and I must say I was a bit apprehensive about getting wrecked or run over by a car for that matter.  John had a good handle on the situation.  We took the street trolley up the hill in between each run.  These hills were massive and would have taken way to much time and been too exhausting to walk up.  First bomb I took very conservative just feeling things out.  By the last one I was power sliding all over the place, hitting banks, ollieing gaps and just having a ball.

When all was said and done John had a broken bearing and I had just about completely worn out the bushings on my trucks.  I would say it was a successful day of skating.  Neither of us got hurt nor hit by cars.  John even saved the world from a renegade pink stripped Victoria Secret bag that was blowing all over the street.

After the skate we just sort of kicked it the rest of the afternoon.  Did a little moseying around town.  That night one of John’s friends from school was having a party.  We planned to make an appearance.  When we got there the host had already passed out.  Turns out the event had started at 1pm.  There were still a hand full of good time seeking enthusiast about the place and John’s boy Whiter this crazy dude from New England, whom was drunk as a skunk, just brought three 12 packs.

Phone calls were made and a new venue was quickly acquired.  Whitter shows up out front of the building with this red 80’s ford pick-up truck.  The truck was suppose to usher eight of us to the new spot.  Being the gentlemen we are the girls got to ride in the cab while John, myself and one other dude laid down in the dirty, rusted bed with all the beer.  My first thought was this is a very bad idea then my adventurous spirit kicked in and I jumped in and held on tight.

Now we had no idea where we were going or how far it was.  All I know is we were getting bounced around in the back of the truck being operated by a very inebriated driver for what felt close to ten minutes.  The tuck comes to a stop and we get out in the middle of one of the swankier neighborhoods in the area.  I am talking fancy high rise apartments with door men.

Immediately I am under the idea that there is no way we are going to be let into any of these places.  Sure enough we walked right into the lobby of this gorgeous building that the rent had to be at least $4,000 a month, got in the elevator and went up to the top floor.  The apartment our group ended up at was a luxury one bedroom.  Expensive kitchen appliances, big flat screen TV.  The dude had an electric drum kit, 88 key electric piano, and two really decent guitars in his bedroom.  This kid was loaded.

The party was your standard house party.  Everyone there was super nice and I found it pleasure to make all their acquaintances.  Upon seeing the keyboard this chick visiting from Idaho claims she is a classically trained concert pianist.  Our host put her to task.  “Im a little drunk so don’t expect much” she said.  As soon as she sat down on the keys she started wailing Bach and Mozart.  It was rather impressive to say the least.  After that a group of us had a little jam session that was terrible, but with a few cocktails in us I guess it was an adequate jam.

On the tenth floor of the building was this outside lounge area that gave a 360 degree view of the entire city.  I went out there to check it out and it was exhilarating.  You could see everything.  The tall buildings of downtown, the Golden Gate Bridge and the ocean.  Must be nice to have that kind of money.

By about midnight the party was done.  John and I not quite ready to call it a night hailed a cab.  I get in and tell the driver “Take me some place we can meet pretty girls”.  The driver was an Indian guy and did not have the best grasp on English or just misinterpreted what I had in mind. Next thing we know we found ourselves in the middle of the XXX district of San Francisco.  The cabby looks back at me with a shit eating grin and says “There are very many pretty girls here”.

I almost died laughing.  Not wanting to spend any more money on that cab we got out.  At the very least there was probably some rat hole dive bar we could drink a beer.  As John and I are walking around this gaudy neon light driven block he mentions to me that he had never been to a strip club before.  I personally am not a fan of such places, although they can be rather entertaining more for the actual patrons then the girls.

I told him to pick one.  Every man aught to visit a nudie bar at least once in his life.  It is sort of a right of passage.  I always thought it was something everyone did when they turned 18.  We walk into this trashy little place called the I Club.  There was a $15 cover but being it was late and a Monday night the bouncer let us cruise.

Just as I expected it was a sleazy dirty bar with average looking and in some cases over weight strippers.  Luckily for us it was just a topless club or I think it would have traumatized the poor kid.  I went and cashed in $10 for singles and gave John six.  That is how those girls earn their money, ugly or not I was not going to cheat them out of their bread.

We stayed for three acts and then bailed.  I must say although not the hottest strippers I have ever experienced they were some of the best dancers.  The place had an eight foot high pole and two of the girls managed to climb all the way to the top and then slide down it upside down with out breaking their necks.  After 15 minutes we had seen enough and bailed.

John looked at me and said I will never go in one of those places again.  I patted him on the back and said that was a very good idea.  I think that may have been the lowest level of human degradation he had ever been exposed to.  I know I always walk out of such venues with a little less respect for mankind on a whole.  All I can say is I have been in San Francisco for less then 48 hours and already have had a crazy series of adventures.

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Sit back and let an expert explain all...

This week’s UCB makes a victor of my boy Brennan whom I believe is claiming his first win ever here at SurfingRuinedMyLife.net, although he did win a few back in the Myspace.com days.  He proposed I write a blog about when one should pull the plug on an out of control drunken relationship, be it with a significant other or a close friend.  This topic is one that I definitely have authority over considering I personally have been on both sides of the coin, the out of control drunken friend and victim.

I use the word victim because it is what one becomes when he is on the receiving end of the drunk shenanigans.   About two years ago when I first moved here to Santa Barbara I was a bit of handful.  I went from going out a few times a week, getting buzzed and trying to pick up chicks to going out nearly every night of the week and getting black out drunk.  Most of the time when I get drunk I don’t get all that crazy (unless Im partying with one of my two friends: Tequila and Bacardi 151.  If they are involved then there is no telling what is going to happen) and usually if anyone is going to be victimized from my drinking it is myself.

I know at one point the bearer of this blog and my greatest wingman ever Brennan had just about had it with me.  He claimed by that point it was not fun for him anymore and that he felt more like a baby sitter then a friend when we were going out.  Also I was not a good wingman to him when I was so sloppy drunk I could barely stand straight and talk with out slurring my speech.  Ladies surprisingly don’t find that very attractive.

He approached me about it and at first I was really angry and did not go out with him for about a week.  Then I realized what a jackass I was and eventually came around.  In most circumstances that is the best way to handle the problem.  Before completely giving up on the person in jeopardy confront them and explain to that person just what is going on.  Some people don’t even realize that they are “that guy” until a close friend brings it to light.  I know I didn’t.  Ultimately if things stay the same I would then break off all contact and get off that sinking ship.

This leads me to two separate situations.  The first happened back in New Jersey circa 2002.  I used to go get drinks with some friends and this dude Mike (that wasn’t his real name, for his sake I have changed it to mike) who had just moved back to the shore from a couple of year stint in Oceanside California.  Mike was a great guy, good surfer and an all around fun friend.  When we went out for a party things changed really fast.

Now I have a pretty high tolerance for bullshit.  For starters my sense of adventure is a bit more warped then most.  My motto in most situations that would have regular folks running for the hills has always been “lets see how things play out”.  Truth be told I have been rather lucky that things never played out in the worst case scenario although bad.

Mike was the kind of guy who loved to do crazy drunken feats of strength, whether he was challenged or not.  When we first started drinking together he used to say things like “you think I am going to punch myself in the face?”  And then he would do it.  I found it rather amusing.  Then it steadily began to escalate.

Another time we were sitting at the bar having a good time, when all of a sudden he would be like “you think I will pour this pitcher of beer over my head” as he was pouring it over his head.  Then the bouncer would throw us out.  From there it was “hey I just ripped the urinal out of the bath room wall” or “lets throw this full beer bottle at that cop car over there”.  For me that was the final draw.  One of my fine lines is police interference.  I don’t like jail.  I spent a little time there once for being an idiot and it was enough to scare me straight.

That was it for Mike and I.  The other incident happened out here in Santa Barbara.  I met this 21 year old train wreck downtown about two years ago.  My first indication to stay away should have been our meet cute, which happened when the drunk bitch stumbled into me and fell flat on her face on State Street (an occurrence I would later find out happened way too often) a block from the Wild Cat.  Lets call her Emma for ease of story.  I found her rather amusing and the sex was good.

This crazy bitch got me into so many compromising situations it was not even funny though at times somewhat exciting.  She got into a bar fight with a group of my Jersey friends, had me jumped by her 19 year old brother and two of his friends downtown, had sex with a few of my other friends behind my back, caused a scene and a half in front of Tonic that had me slink off into the night and had me take two unnecessary kicks to the back in two unrelated incidents.  All of which happened while she was completely wasted and I literally had to carry her home on numerous occasions.  The only the thing she was not was a vomiter.   If she were that would have been the final straw right there.

Still that was not enough to turn me off.  The last incident that sent me packing went down at 3:30 in the morning. I found myself in the street in front of a crack house in Isla Vista, where she was trying to satisfy a coke binge inside. Meanwhile I got into a brawl with a coked up black dude, then ended up forfeiting what was left of my money to keep one of Emma’s friends from getting molested by a shady cab driver, finally saving the same girl from being raped by another random drug addict at which point I was ready to get out of there.

I went looking for Emma only to find her popping a handful of non descript pills to off set the coke as she put it. I walked into the room to retrieve her and get the fuck out of there upon this request she told me to go fuck myself as she was sitting spread eagle and all three guys in the room were looking at her exposed panties courtesy of her stained hocked up mini skirt.

I lost it, called her a drugged out whore and (not far from the mark) walked out of the house leaving her to get ganged rapped by the three guys there.  I had to walk the streets of IV till 4:30 am till I finally stumbled upon a friend who was able to give me a place to crash for the night and a ride home in the morning considering there was no more money left in my wallet and I left my plastic at home.  Condition three personal safety is another consideration.

So there you have it.  When is enough, enough?  You need to ask yourself three questions:

  1. Am I really having a good time: If the answer to this is yes at least fifty percent of the time Im still on board, but you can set your own parameters.
  2. Will hanging out with this person eventually have me ending up in prison: For me this is a deal breaker after the first close call.  The moment our relationship has me ducking in the bushes from the cops at 3am its over.
  3. Will this partnership lead to my life coming to a hault or me maimed, disfigured or dismembered: Like I said in the Emma example, personal safety.  Im ok with cuts and bruises, but when we are talking potential hospital stays or worse, well I don’t have the proper medical coverage to handle any of that.
  4. Bonus: Your mental health is another brief consideration.  For me this is never really a concern, but if you are a logically thinking person then you probably have a limit to how much bull your brain can take.  Then again your reading this pathetic excuse for a blog so your tolerance for bullshit must be quite high after all.

These are just some guidelines that I personally follow with the drunken insane.  So far they have kept me alive for over 15 years of heavy duty partying with some of the craziest drunks you will ever meet.  In my case I guess it takes one to know one.

I think this falls into the personal safety category and the jail one.

Is this enough? Your call.

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This week makes a victor out of Kooky Kyle who proposed I write about my favorite Nick the Kook moment.  Now the problem with this is there are virtually hundreds of them and all are pretty classic.  Too torn between which was my favorite (heck it could be its own monthly segment here) I decided I would just write about the shit show he was last night at the bar.  I would not call it “the best of Nick the Kook” but I got a kick out of it nonetheless.  Nick gets a half point since this blog is a bit at his expense, not that I care, but I like Nick and feel he deserves something for the inspiration.


Before I begin let me spend a few lines to introduce Nick the Kook because he has always been a popular character in this blog but since the move to surfingruinedmylife.net besides winning a few UCBs and the oddball comment he has yet to star in an actual blog.  He is going to make his way out to Santa Barbara for a ten day span starting Jan 5th so Im sure you will hear a lot more of him.


I first met Nick about 7 years ago when he was like 13 or something.  I had happened to paddle out at Brown Ave in Spring Lake (currently The Pipe) at the time I exclusively surfed Manasquan and Sea Girt very rarely making to Spring Lake and especially Brown Ave where a year prior a meat head surfer kicked my ass on the beach for back paddling him.  Just so my California readers know in a New Jersey line up altercations will most times go to the beach.  That is an entire different blog or sets of blogs altogether.


I happened to paddle out at Brown Ave to surf this shitty left all by myself.  I was out for no longer then twenty minutes when this scrawny kid showed up out of nowhere on a long board was super pumped.  We got to talking and he was interested in my travel and contests.  I guess he loosely knew me by reputation.  After that I did not see him again for over a year.


I took a job managing a small upcoming surf shop in Spring Lake and Nick was part of this cult following of groms who hung out there, most of whom I today have come to call my closest of friends.  Nick is one of those special people in life who are not afraid to throw caution to the wind with very little fore thought, basically my kind of man.  Whether it is getting staples in his head while pulling into double up close outs, lacerating his foot slipping on sea weed or loosing his teeth in a freak drunken piggy back ride accident you can always be sure if some great mishap of pure stupidity occurs Nick the Kook will be at the root of it.


As some of you know I made a long awaited trip back to NJ for the holiday to see my family I have not been in New Jersey for two years and with my family for Christmas in four.  After spending the entire day being intoxicated while visiting my family Nick made me an offer to cruise to the bar with him and spend my evening being intoxicated with friends.  Who would I be to turn down a night out at the bar?


I get there and Nick, Mauriello, Beesley and Bojangles among many others were enjoying a beer.  I soon joined in.  We are all shooting the shit when Nick proclaims that he does not drink heavy anymore while at the same time ordering his third beer.  Keep in mind that Nick was my ride home and let me stress the word “was”.  After that Nick cruised around the bar and I lost track of him for about an hour, most of which time I spent in an attempt to order drinks from the world’s slowest bar tenders.  I finally got my drinks and was making my rounds shaking hands of old friends and acquaintances when Nick turned up completely smashed.


John and I were astounded how he went from relatively sober to stone drunk in under an hour.  “Some people bought me shots” spoken incoherently was his answer.  I wish some people bought me shots I was way to sober for his shenanigans.   Then I spent the night pleasurably following Nick and his antics around the bar.  It was like a game of drunken “Where’s Waldo”, plus he was wearing this bright green shirt allowing him to stand out a little.


Every time I caught eye of the kid he was slouched over, mouth open and droopy eyed.  Then I observed him at the bar looking to get another drink.  My intention was to walk over stop him but then he offer to buy me a drink and my asshole inclinations took over thus I ended up with a beer.  As soon as the kid got his brew he was on the move once again and out of my sight.  Sometimes he popped up groping the occasional girl or sloppily hitting on another.


I had a ball watching the guy.  At one point I searched for him for twenty minutes only to have him pop up out of no where, say some incoherent thing to me and then walk out the door.  I never saw him again that night.  Good thing I always have a back up plan.  People used to always say that I should have my own reality show but I think one of Nick would be far more entertaining.

Nick the Kook in one of his finest moments spring 2010

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