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Posts Tagged ‘Stupidity’

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.

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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.

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Alright, so I’m dropping a special UCB tonight.  I am also adding an amendment to the UCB rule book as a result of certain recent participants getting a bit out of hand with their suggestions.  I love all the enthusiasm but this is a little bit ridiculous.  Listen up everyone for now on you can only submit 5 UCB Topics in a seven-day period.  It will be seven days from your 5th posting.  For example if you post your 5th suggestion for the period on a Tuesday then you have to wait for that next Tuesday before you can throw down another suggestion.

 

If you break this rule then if I decide to use your UCB topic the points will go to whoever the previous week’s winner was.  So be weary of this and make those topics count cause I am tired of getting Christmas style lists of barely qualified topics.  You also run the risk of me showing up at your house with a sock full of pennies and beating the piss out of you.  With that out of the way Nick the Kook takes the win on a special edition of the UCB and earns 1 point. This is what happens when you throw down too many topics.

 

Here is the shopping list Kook presented me with:

1. hipsters
2. end of the world
3. sharting
4. clogging the toilet
5. pearl necklace
6. surfing really fucking cold water/conditions
7. 5 reasons why Florida sucks
8. worst song youve ever heard
9. the cost of printer ink
10. dumbest ucb that has won

I am going to answer each one of these topics in as concise an answer as possible thus taking them all off the market forever.

 

  1. Hipsters: I don’t really understand the current hipster trend and truth be told I also don’t give a shit about it either.  So they where stupid cloths that are two sizes too small, talk like morons, have bad facial hair and dumb hair cuts.  They also seldom get laid meaning more for me!  P.S.  when I wear jeans that tight every lady and queer in the room is staring at my junk, but those hipster guys must have some of the worlds smallest cocks cause they never have any bulge showing, not that I am a bird watcher, just stating a fact.

 

  1. End of The World:  Some people think the world is going to end in December of next year. I guess only time will tell.  I remember when the world was supposed to end ten years ago back in 1999 with all that y2k bull shit.  Guess what folks, we are still here.  All I can say on this one is that if you live everyday like its your last, take nothing for granted, cherish ever single moment and be the best you can possibly be then I would not worry about it.  Everyone is going to die.  The question is did they really live?

 

  1. Sharting:  Sharting is just plain fucking disgusting.  Everyone has done it at least once in his or her life.  It sucks and can be embarrassing at an inopportune moment, although I suppose there really is no good moment to have a shart happen. For those of you who are more dignified then my Jersey brethren a shart is when you fart and accidentally shit your pants instead.  It’s not a pretty sight.  I once knew this kid I surfed with called Shart because apparently he shit his pants at a party and threw his underwear in the bathroom garbage pail opting to go commando. Next day the kid’s mom of the house Shart was partying at found the nasty ass pair of draws.  He as been Shart ever since.

 

  1. Clogging The Toilet:  These just keep getting better.  I’m very glad for the invention of the toilet.  Before that people took piss and shits in either little bowls and dumped it outside or used a giant human litter box that was kept under the staircase on the first floor of the house.  One complaint I do have is that modern day toilets, especially those good for nothing low flow ones clog easy as hell.  I’m sorry but I only shit about once a day so when it goes down I fill the fucking bowl.  This usually leads to clogging.  Now in my house there is always a plunger right next to the toilet so if you get into said scenario you can get yourself out.  I have been in the homes of others where there was none to be found. Then I find myself pouring water from a cup into the tank to try and add more water pressure.  It becomes a nightmare.  Moral of the story: Keep a plunger in your bathroom or risk being left with a nasty floater. 

5. Pearl Necklace: Wow these are just literally going down the crapper, well not in the case of the last two or even this one for that matter.  I could be an old fart or a square and write about how I think pearls are very sexy when worn by a woman to accompany a formal gown. Alas I know that is not the pearl necklace Kook is talking about. Here is the Urban Dictionary definition of Pearl Necklace: the glorious culmination of tit-fucking, in which you blow your nuts out all over a girl’s tits, shoulders, neck, and, with any luck, chin. one of the highest expressions of love and affection bestowable upon a  woman by a man. I do not agree with this at all.  As a matter of fact I keep my semen to myself and have never blown a load on a chick in my entire life even if I was asked to.  I have too much respect for women in general to do such a feat even if she does not have enough self-respect to know any better.

  1. Surfing Really Cold Water/Conditions:  I grew up in such conditions and have scored some of the best sessions of my life on days most would not even think about coming out from under the covers.  That being said I moved out of that garbage almost five years ago and have not looked back since.  Give me the shitty cold, crowded blown out conditions of Central California any day.

 7. Worst Song I Have Ever Heard:  I don’t know, I have heard a ton of bad songs.  I would have to say just about anything country is the worst song I have ever heard.

 

  1. Five Reasons Florida Sucks:
  1. Rednecks
  2. Old People
  3. Mushy Waves
  4. Portuguese Men of War
  5. Midwestern tourists

 9.The Cost of Printer Ink:  Why is printer ink so expensive?  I mean its ink right.  I think it is because you have to buy those stupid cartridges.  Why cant we just open up a slot and pour in ink like typewriters used to be?  It is all a set up to jack us for more hard earned money.

 

10. Dumbest UCB That Has Ever Won:  I think we have a winner right here.  Congratulations Kook.  That was fucking exhausting.

These guys are sooo cool.

 

Four birds with one stone. Here we have a Florida redneck clogging a toilet after sharting his pants while giving his girlfriend a pearl necklace.

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This week’s UCB or last weeks actually considering I did not get a chance to write it till now, makes a winner of Nick the Kook.  He asked that I write a tale about him.  Now there are literally hundreds of stupid Nick the Kook stories in the Lisanti memory bank.  Besides the fact that you can almost count on Nick doing something completely stupid eight out of ten times, but the guy spent probably more time with me then I spent with my ex-wife circa 2003-2007.

 

The kid hung around the surf shop all day long 7 days a week when I worked there, usually surfed with me after, then went skating with me that night.  We even started traveling together.  Kook and I have racked up a ridiculous amount of friend hours and I would have to say a retarded story would take place involving one or both of us 95% of the time.

 

When asked to pick a story its not very easy.  I mean I could write an entire segment, maybe start a new blog even about the adventures of Chris Lisanti and Nick the Kook.  There are that many and since we still get together from time to time there are more to come.   For this blog I thought I would tell the tale of a Cinco de Mayo party, a bottle of Agave and an incident of ill treatment to a piñata.  Yeah you’re going to want to keep on reading for this one.  I know I did not want to tell negative stories here anymore, but if a story of my own stupidity and immaturity deters at least one person from drinking too much then it was worth the humiliation.

 

For a span of three years I was on this wild house party kick.  In New Jersey that is the staple for most alcoholism especially in the winter months.  I guess this took place around 2007.  I could be wrong on the exact date so if anyone out there remembers feel free to correct me in the comments.  My good friend Nick Kiefer one of the most talented graphic artists/photographers I know, now turned hipster musician was throwing a Cinco De Mayo party at his parents house.

 

Now when I roll up to a party I also come with an entourage, rapper style.  This was actually the very end of my house party days thus I was rolling lighter then usual with just Nick the Kook, Sindia and myself.  I also brought along in proper fashion for the occasion a bottle of Mexican Agave (which is like 80 proof) a gift provided by my parents from a recent trip to Mexico.

 

Upon entry I open the Agave and it is shots all around till the bottle was cooked.  Let me mention that Kiefer’s parents were in attendance at this party and had some friends of their own at there as well.  Now Agave for those of you who don’t know is the sugar component put into tequila.  I think by now most of you know what happens to me when tequila is involved, I get crazy.  Well Agave has an even higher sugar content meaning an even nuttier Lisanti.

 

After four shots I was feeling pretty good, and ready to take the party up to high gear.  At this point it may have been about ten at night.  Kook and I decided to get people dancing in the living room.  I think Kiefer’s sister and maybe two of her friends and Sindia briefly humored us.  Shortly after it went from a dance circle to a drunken Nick the Kook vs Lisanti dance off, which basically ended in Kiefer’s parents big screen television nearly falling over crushing the both of us and ruining the set.  Luckily Sindia stepped in being the responsible one and put a stop to our stupidity.  Literally we looked like complete buffoons failing around at a lame attempt of a break dance off.

 

From there I am pretty sure I ran around the house making imbecilic, incoherent conversation with random people while chugging way too many beers.  Sindia was embarrassed, Kiefer was sorry he invited me and I am pretty sure his parents contemplated calling the police on more then one instance that night.  The Kook tried to get with Kiefer’s now ex-girl friend (not from that event) and as a result was never allowed over Kiefer’s house again.  I’m not certain but I think he also tried to get with Nick’s younger sister and mom as well.

 

We were a pair of real classy guys him and I.  Finally the night ended with the unveiling of this sombrero piñata.  Nothing makes a drunken Cinco de Mayo party better then smashing a piñata except I think the only people drunk there were the Kook and I.  A few people got their hits in on it and then it was my turn.  Now why anyone at my level of intoxication would have been handed a wiffle ball bat and blind folded is beyond me, but that is exactly what happened.

 

I came out swinging like a mad man but was way to inebriated to even come close to hitting the thing.  I am pretty sure I fell over in the process also.  Angry and a bit humiliated I ripped the piñata off the ceiling and smashed it against the wall.  Candy fell out all over the place and then I slipped and fell on top of it all, smashing most of it under my body.

 

Ten minutes later I found myself throwing up all over Kiefer’s bathroom, followed by the front lawn and the entire car ride home, while Sindia drove.  We left Kook behind who as I stated earlier perpetuated the losing task of attempting to get with any lady left at the party.  I got home, fell out of the passenger seat of the car and passed out in the marshland besides my house.  Sindia left me there, pay back for the embarrassing evening and leaving her in the backyard a year ago when she got embarrassingly drunk.

 

The funny thing is I used to be proud of this story.  I thought it was a really winner to earn me browning points with others.  I always thought when I told it people were laughing with me, well I finally know now they were merely just laughing at me like I was some type of circus clown.  Part of me still thinks partying hard is a ton of fun, until I sit down and read what I write.  Then I realize all I am doing is making a fool of myself.  “He who walks in the darkness does not know where he goes” John 12:35.

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A long time ago Mauriello requested this blog and it was a topic that I had a bit to say on, but at the time just could not find the words to voice my opinion.  Before I get into the blog I want to remind everyone that the UCB Winter Quarter is about to come to a close April 1st.  That being the case it is time for the double points blog to make its elusive appearance again.

 

As usual the double points UCB is in addition to the remaining two that are left in the quarter and will only be written if the topic is one I feel is double points worthy.  If you think about it if you were to win the last two blogs and score the UCB double points blog that would be four points and put you clearly in contention for the title.  Just thought I would throw out some food for thought.

 

A bureaucracy is defined as a system of administration based upon organization into small groups or bureaus, division of labor, a hierarchy of authority, etc designed to dispose of a large body of work in a routine manner.

Bureaucracies are pretty much the tiny subdivisions of organization that we have to deal with in our society on an everyday basis be it good or bad.  They are also the reason why certain things like legal proceedings, the DMV, even renting an apartment in some cases take forever and can be frustrating as hell.  Bureaucracies have rules, and lots of them it is the only way to make such as system work with out falling apart.

 

It is a in most cases “too many chiefs and not enough Indians situation”.   You see it all starts with a few little employees such as the DMV for example were there are “x” amount of customer service agents.  Each one of those agents report to a supervisor, who then imparts their findings to his supervisor, who then goes to his higher up and so and and so forth.  This is all fine and dandy for your everyday operations but when something out of the ordinary needs to be done even if it is the simplest of tasks it ends up taking forever.

 

I will use the transferring of my apartment from joint tenant-ship with my last roommate to adding my new roommate to my lease.  This should have been an easy seamless process considering I was still on the original lease but thanks to all of the rules of the bureaucracy of the rental agency became the biggest headache ever.  I had to get the place inspected, fill out new rental applications, pay rental application fees, sign waivers.  It became a mountain out of a mole hill process courtesy of a bureaucracy all because they have a protocol that must be followed for all procedures no mater what the situation.

 

The reason for this is because of the pure stupidity of 90% of the public.  Lets face most people are morons.   I see it everyday and it makes me sad.  For that reason bureaucracies exist.  To firstly keep the hopelessly stupid employed, in many cases all the way up the food chain thus you have the blind leading the blind, and it helps the retarded coup with living.  Basically it is a house of cards built by some very smart people, but run and managed by idiots.   It is for this reason that such institutions drive the intelligent crazy.

 

What shall we do in place of them?  If you take away bureaucracies then you would have complete totalitarianism.  I don’t really know what’s worse, one jack ass calling the shots or a whole collection of them lost in the woods.  For me it comes back to my age old dilemma: do we educate those who are willing to learn and excommunicate those who are unfit to help with the betterment of society or do we keep sailing on the sinking ship we know.  If we did this who would be the judge and what would be the criteria.  Unfortunately I don’t think I would still fit into it.  Face it we are all fucked, but who cares the world is going to end in a year any way.

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This week the UCB makes a victor of Nick the Kook with a topic that I sort of mocked him a bit for suggesting.  After giving it some further thought on the matter and being that “Multiplicity” is one of my favorite films I decided to give the kid the green light.  What did Nick suggest you ask? “What if you could take a pill and wake up the next morning with an exact copy of yourself”.

 

Now don’t think this was an original idea for the chap, on the contrary.  In the masterpiece surf film “Campaign” by Taylor Steele this was one of the skits from the movie staring Chris Malloy.  Basic plot was that Malloy went to sleep after taking a medication called “Double Up” and in the morning he woke up next to an exact copy of himself.  Sounds bizarre for sure but it was actually a rather entertaining skit as far as surf films go.

 

For arguments sake lets say this “Double Up” drug was real and I gave it ago and woke up next to myself.  I don’t really know how to feel about it.  Im a pretty big asshole and barely like one of me as it is let alone two.  Can you imagine the world with two Chris Lisanti’s?  It’s a rather horrifying thought.

 

Then on further thought I realized what if this second Lisanti was subservient to me?  I could make him do all the bullshit I hate in life while I could do the other bullshit I enjoy doing, like surfing.  I would make his ass go to work for me; heck he would work as much as possible to support my life style.  I would make him my own personal Joe Friday as well.

 

Or maybe we could be friends him and I.  The Ultimate companion.  Imagine having a wing man at the bar that was an exact copy of you.  Except he would not be an exact copy of you but of me.  Together we would clean up.  Surfing we could control all sorts of line-ups.  Shit we could probably take over the world because your definitely always going to agree with yourself.

 

In the end Im sure we would end up killing each other or end up in jail or killing ourselves because like I said the world is only big enough for one Chris Lisanti.  A redundancy would most likely cause a huge riff in the space time continuum ending existence of life on earth as we know it.   Maybe that is what is going to happen in 2012 I am going to receive an exact copy of me.  People have been known to call me the anti-Christ.

Whats more dangerous The Joker or two Chris Lisantis

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Every Halloween I like to post a tale from a Lisanti Halloween Past.  For me Halloween has always been one of those ridiculously insane Holidays where I have almost died, been arrested, made trip to hospital or a combination of all three.  I have a few Halloween blogs from the old Myspace Blog and over the next few days I will post them up here as blasts from the past and then on Halloween post a brand new Halloween tale from the Lisanti Archives of gnarl.  As always any text seen within the blog in the color red is a commented added for this edition.

Halloween of my junior year of High School I was running with the artsy crowd.  A group of musicians, artists and alternative thinkers.  Basically it was our excuse to think we were better then all the “cool kids” and gave us an excuse to smoke pot and drink on a regular basis writing it off as helping our cause.  Now unlike in NY where trick or treating and vadalism all go down on the 31st in NJ the day before Halloween is called Mischief night and that is when you go out, break shit and cause trouble. I grew up in NY and moved to NJ at 15 for those of you who are new to this blog.

We did not go out on Mischief night opting to get high instead.  So Halloween was going to be our night.  We began this night as any other in my buddy Matt’s garage crowded around the bong while doing shots of Smirnoff (plastic Handle, of course, classic high school).  After getting good and baked we headed to Wall’s favorite health and recreation spa located in South Wall (I wont give the name of it so as to not find myself in trouble later, but you should be able to figure out where I am talking about) to relive a Halloween past time for this group.  It was only my 2nd Halloween here in NJ and I spent the first one with my girl friend at the time so this was all new to me.

Turns out the last two Halloweens this crew would go down to the aforementioned health club and knock over the three outside vending Machines near the pool before bolting from security. I am always amped to get into trouble was down for the challenge.  The thing we forgot was that the previous years no one got as baked. I in no means condone drug and alcohol use among minors, but I was young and dumb as you will see as you read on.

We got to the back of the health club via the woods and hopped over the fence by the soccer fields and stealthily made our way to the Pool.  The lay of the land was there were three vending machines spaced out along the grounds.  One next to the pool, one near the tennis bubble and one up against the side of the racquetball courts.  To accomplish this imbecilic ask we had to break up into teams of three or so in order to make sure we tipped them all at the same time cause when the shit fell down it was super loud.  If we attempted to do each individually we would definitely get clipped.

Stew, Hugine and Jay took the one near the Tennis bubble, Ellen, Fisher and Shelly took the Racquetball one and Matt and I got the Pool.  Everyone got into position and when each team was ready we quickly shined a flashlight in the air.  When all three were seen we would count to three silently and flip the machines.  Everyone had three people but Matt and I so we had our work cut out for us but were up to the task.

As we knocked our’s over Matt’s sweater got caught on something on the front of the machine and he ended up going over with it.  At that moment all that was heard was the crashing of vending machines that had fallen over with a loud bang  followed by the shattering of broken plastic and to my dismay Matt’s scream of sheer pain.  I look down and his arm is now caught under the vending machine crushed by the weight and there is blood everywhere.  I guess the broken shards of plastic shrapnel must have cut him up good.

I looked toward the other side of the compound and saw the other teams retreating off into the woods unknowing of our situation.  I quickly was able to pick the machine up enough for him to get his arm out.  When he pulled it out the shit was mangled.  I’m not going to lie dude’s arm was definitely broken and the lacerations from the plastic definitely needed stitches.  Matt sat there in shock for a moment, but before we could take stock on the situation a security guard was hot on our trail.

I was like “Matt we go to run”.  I ripped my shit off and made it into a make shift sling for him to hold his arm with as we took off running.  Security was on us from all angles.  They even had the golf carts out chasing after us. We made it to the fence and I could tell by Matts eyes he was not going to be able to flip himself over the fence.  I cradled my hands and boosted him up and over the fence.  He fell to the other side flat on his face landing square on his good arm.  As I would find out very steadily would no longer be a good arm.

I made the hop over the fence, pick up Matt on his feet now with two broken arms and we took off running through the woods as fast as we could till we came out on the street.  By now I figured security had to have called the cops and they would be out patrolling for us in the surrounding streets of the perimeter of the club.  I pulled off my jacket and put it over Matt so as not to bring attention to ourselves.   After all a kid shaking from shock with two broken arms and blood all over might alarm some people. Then I grabbed some decorations off some guy’s front lawn and made ghetto costumes to pass as trick or treaters.

It was good we did too cause the next block we came to there was a cop car eyeing up everyone around.  By the time we made it back to Matt’s house he was just about ready to pass out.  The crew was not there either.  I figured they probably went out looking for us.  I had to drive Matt to the Hospital in his car with just my learners permit, an act that if I caught doing would make  me not able to get my license till I was 18.

We arrived at Jersey shore and Matt was fucked up.  He ended up with 2 broken arms, casts all the way up to his shoulders, surgery on both and 133 stitches combined.  It was pretty funny.  He could not do shit for himself for around a month or so.  Worst part was we had to tell everyone he fell down a flight of steps in order to not get busted for the health club thing.  Everyone at school thought he was a retard.  It was classic.  Another epic Halloween in the can.

Imagine getting crushed by one of these.

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