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Posts Tagged ‘Wild Cat’

I Assure You I am not Dead

Posted in News From Lisanti Land, tagged , , , , , , on January 17, 2012| 2 Comments »

Well It has been a while since I have wrote anything here, even on the surflog.  All I can say in my defense is that things have been ridiculous out here.  Between surfing, partying, renovations, one of the gnarliest Lisanti Adventure Tour yet and my work starting back up at Westmont I have been left rather exhausted.  Look for blogs about all of this very very soon.  Trust me it will be worth the wait. Here is sneak preview into just the brand of stupid insanity you can expect to enjoy:

If you can’t wait visit the January ’12 of the Surflog for a sneak preview.

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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.

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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.

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The Wild Cat…Meow

Posted in Kooky's Korner, tagged , , , , , , , on November 11, 2011| Leave a Comment »

This week’s Kooky’s Korner, Kooky Kyle lets everyone in on some of his recent nights at the Wild Cat Lounge here in Santa Barbara and the official bar of Lisanti Land.  Enjoy.

For any regular reader of this blog, you are familiar with Chris’ favorite haunt and if you have visited Lisanti Land the Santa Barbara Chapter, you have probably been to the Wild Cat. The first time I came here I had the opportunity to have such experience. I barely remember walking in the door. Reliable sources have told me I walked up to two girls and told them I wanted to lose my virginity to both of them in a threesome.  Some how that was not met with a slap instead it received laughter. Long story short I ran away that night and almost made it home but over shot it by about a half mile away from the Lisanti Palace(For more on Kooky’s first visit to SB read Kooky Kyle’s Chris Lisanti Adventure Tour and Kooky Kyle Speaks Out).

 With the beginning of our relationship starting in such a manner you can only imagine the insanity that the place has about it. It is so much better than that stupid hipster bar we went to in San Fran, seriously only, “only obscure” late 50’s early 60’s R&B? Fucking hipsters. Wild Cat is the unofficial hook up bar and the unofficial gay bar of Santa Barbara. With that being the case, I have been approached a few times by some people I would never want any sort of sexual encounter with.
The Swingers
 About a week ago Chris, his boy Ryan and I were out on a lurk at the Kitty. I went ahead of them to get a space at the bar to order more drinks. As I am standing waiting for a space to open up this older guy, whom I would guess was in his mid to late forties came up to me from one of the little tables by the bar. He was tall and a little overweight. I figured he was getting in line to get a drink too.
“She is a real looker isn’t she?” He said gesturing to a similarly aged fat woman with short blonde hair seated at his table. This woman was gross. She was clearly tipsy and was in jovial spirits. “She looks like a real keeper.” I said. I figured that it was either his wife or girlfriend and I didn’t want to insult her.
“She thinks you are pretty cute.” Well that was weird. I’ll take a compliment like that any time but this was starting to get a little bit on the strange side.  “Thanks, I like to think so” I replied.  “Do you want to come back to our place?” he asked. WHOA WHAT THE SHIT! Did that really just happen? I was shocked; I barely could put a reply together.
“Uh, baaaa, huuh no?” I answered and got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

Gay Night
Sunday is Chris’ Friday so what do you do at the start of your weekend? You go out of course. Sunday also just so happens to be Gay Night at the Wild Cat. You may question the logic of why two straight men would go to gay night. Well, if there are any girls there at all,  they are either trying just to dance or they are looking for a one night stand. Also straight guys tend to stay away. Chris’ old boss, Steve, was in town and we all went out.

Chris has been a fixture at this bar for a while so the gay guys know he is straight and not to try with him. Me being a fresh face though, no such luck. I had been getting looks all night, but had yet to be approached. Chris was off somewhere leaving me on my way with Steve to grab a drink from the bar.  As we were crossing the dance floor a gay guy with a bi-chromatic fohawk appeared in front of me blocking my way. I was instantly eye raped. Feeling a little awkward he then tried to slip a hand down my pants. WHAT THE HELL!! I thought.
As I sit here writing this I am trying to justify why it happened? Was I being a cock tease? My handsome self at gay night, that is like dressing like a slut and going to a Guido bar and not expecting to get groped. Whatever, I still didn’t welcome the advance. I quickly stepped back and pulled his hand away from my dick. “I’m not gay, man, sorry.” I steadily got away from him. But the ordeal was not over for the night.
Towards the end of the night we worked our way over to the dance floor and were tearing it up. There was this gnarly cougar dancing with three gay guys thinking she was the hottest thing out there.  She was straight gnarly. Twenty-five years ago she was probably smoking hot, but the years of partying had clearly taken a toll on her.  One of the gay guys saw something that was actually of his preferred gender (me), came over and unbuttoned one of my shirt buttons. “I’m sorry, I just had to do that.” He stood there expecting some sort of reciprocation from me. He only received a look of utter dismay and mild disgust.
Now about a month into my stay I am pretty much one of the regulars at The Kitty. Chris has the bartenders in his pocket and while we normally stagger away from there our tab is rarely over twenty bucks. Who knows what the future holds for me at the Wild Cat, hopefully I have dodged enough gnarly swingers and overly forward gay men and some gorgeous women will start falling into my lap.
Kooky Kyle

Post press: Last night Kooky and I hit the Wild Cat with a vengeance.  What was suppose to be a fun night with a mellow buzz became a “lets get fucking shit faced” night.  Bottom line by the end of the night we were fucking wasted.  Kooky Blacked out most of the night.  What ensued was him terribly hitting on girls, stealing the hat off the head of a Bacardi Promo Girl then proceeding to dance like Micheal Jackson wearing it.  The night ended with us nearly going home with three gay guys that luckily my good sense at the last minute saved us.  Good times. 

What Kooky has yet to score at the Wild Cat, a cracked out wild chick.

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Its a Five Day Halloween Party!

Posted in Life, News From Lisanti Land, tagged , , , , , , , , , on October 28, 2011| 1 Comment »

When I was a kid Halloween was all about candy and costumes.  Then I became a teenager and it was all about mindless vandalism (for whatever reason it seems to be the one night a year where its ok to break shit).  Then I became an adult…well I use that term in the looses sense of the word.  More in terms as I am physically a full grown human.  Mentally I am anywhere between that of a bratty ten year old and a 15 year old.  I guess most males fit into that category.

Being older Halloween takes on its scariest of entities: Grown people in costumes getting completely shit faced.  Women put on the skimpiest little outfits or a tiny cocktail dress and some type of animal ears.  I am not complaining its all in good fun.  I have spent plenty of Halloweens in my adulthood being that sloppy guy in a cheap ass $15 plastic Kmart costume.  As a matter of fact I was that guy last night.

This year Halloween falls on a mother fucking Monday which means its a five night party and five different costumes. Over the next five days I will chronicle exactly what takes place on this lurk, well what I can remember from it of course.  Lets start with last night shall we?

Night One, College Costume Night at the Wild Cat

Kooky and I rolled out, him dressed as a red crayon and myself as Casanova, which was interpreted as either a vampire or a pirate.  I did not give a fuck.  I just wanted to an excuse to wear a cape. I liked it and it may become a regular thing for me.  Everyone thought Kooky was an orange crayon even though it clearly said the word “red” on the front of his costume.  On the way down some chicks yelled out the window “Dude your a fucking Cone, Whoooo, go cone!”.  That in itself set the tone for the evening.

Down town was packed as usual.  Halloween is sort of a big deal in this town.  Shit what excuse to get drunk and make a fool of yourself is not in Santa Barbara?  We had to wait on line for about thirty minutes, not bad considering.  There were these two basics in front of us who in my opinion looked no older then 16, but then again I am a bit older now and young looking twenty one year olds do look very callow to me at times. Lucky for us they bailed to go back to IV (no surprise there) allowing us to make the next twenty people in cut off.

Inside the usual Wild Cat insanity ensued.  I got piss drunk thanks to my bar hook up, did a bit of dancing and a bit of socializing.  We were hanging outside on the patio when this very attractive women came up to us.  I figured she was selling something.  There is no way a smoking hot chick is going to walk up to a guy dressed like a crayon and a pirate/Dracula looking guy other wise.  She asked me what I was drinking and I replied “Bacardi, what else”.  Turns out she was a promo Bacardi girl and impressed by the fact I was drinking a tall (little did she know it was more like half a bottle poured into a glass with a little coke for color) and hooked Kooky and I up with free Bacardi T-shirts.   Its about time those guys give me something back for all those handles I have consumed over the years.

It was a good evening but by one we found ourselves over it and decided to do the drunken stumble home.  about at the half way point we ran into this guy dressed as a Rastafarian across the street from us.  He looked at us and yelled “hey I’m not a Rasta, but a Mexican.  You guys want a bowl hit”.  Thinking I was going to get a smoke we walked over.  The dude pulls out a handful of weed and puts it in Kooky’s hand.  Then cruises on.  We got easily two eighths worth.  Then we ran into a Kiwi working the night clean up shift on SBCC’s campus and hooked him up with a fatty nug as well.  Got to share the wealth after all.  Upon getting home we packed it into an apple and smoked that shit.  All and all I would say it was a rather fun first night.

Halloween is always Alfie's favorite holiday.

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You Can Take the Girl Out of Jersey, But You Can’t Take Jersey Out of The Girl: An Unexpected Lisanti Adventure Tour

Posted in Life, News From Lisanti Land, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 25, 2011| 14 Comments »

I used to work at a surf camp in the summertime back in my late Jersey years and one thing we always taught all the kids was that a friend of mine is a friend of yours.  In surf culture it works like this:  I have a good friend Rick and he knows someone who lives on Maui.  As it turns out I am traveling to Maui and being a broke ass surfer trying to turn a dollar into fifteen cents I reach out to Rick and ask him if maybe he could hook me up with his boy out on Maui.

Rick calls his buddy Keoni and says “hey bud I got a really solid friend here who I can totally vouch for.  He needs a place to stay on the island.  Can you help him out”?  Now Keoni and Rick go way back and he knows and trusts Rick’s judgment.  If Rick claims I’m cool that is all Keoni needs to know and more times then not a person in his shoes will put up a total stranger based on the word of a friend.  That is how friends of friends become friends in the surf world.

I have spent the majority of my travels couch surfing on friends of friend’s couches and have always put up friends of friends in my own abode as well.  It’s a reciprocal process.  You can’t take advantage of the system unless you plan to give back to it or the whole thing will come crashing down.  Hypocrisy in the surfing underground railroad just does not work.  If you take a couch then you must be willing at some point later in life to offer a couch.  That is just how it goes.

So when I got call from former roommate and brother from another mother Cory Kisiel wondering if I could put up two of his friends I was more then happy to oblige even though I already had and currently still have my boss sleeping on the couch.  In this case they were suppose to be two nice ladies from Jersey just looking for a place to crash on their summer graduation cross country adventure.  As it turned out there were three of them, Melissa, Devin and Danielle, but like I always say the more the merrier.

Turns out these were some of the most chill women I have ever had the pleasure to spend time with (get your minds out of the gutter folks they were very respectable females and actually helped restore my faith in their kind a bit).  They were cruising up from L.A. and being it was their first time in California I had them take the PCH up through Malibu for the best scenic results.  While they were driving up I prepared an amazing pork roast dinner, which I slow cooked for nearly 12 hours.

It came out remarkable, the best pork roast I ever cooked.  The bones came out clean being pulled with my bare hands.  I coupled it with a Lemon risotto with cranberries, corn on the cob and mash potatoes (don’t worry I promise to have some new recipes up soon).  It was quite the feast.  My Roommate Bryan and his two friends also joined us as well rounding out the dinner party to eight, the biggest one I have ever hosted here.  It made me realize to my own embarrassment that I need to buy new plate and glassware, not having anything matching and not nearly enough wine glasses to go around.

Next day the girls were cruising up to Lompoc to go skydiving, which went off amazing for them, despite the fact that they were a bit apprehensive.  I gave them some classic Lisanti words of wisdom “Girls you miss 100 percent of the pitches you don’t swing at”.  If you’re a regular reader then you have definitely heard that one pounded into your skull a few thousand times.  I coupled it with “Well I reckon if you jump and survive it will have been a good time and if it doesn’t work out then SPLAT! No Worries”.  They did not die and were glowing from the experience.

Meanwhile I was off slinging drink all over town.  I tried to send the girls on a fun valley adventure to Ostrich Land, Solvang and few other choice locales there, but they decided to cruise back to the Barb and enjoy the beach.  Later they called me and asked how they could get to Montecito to see how the other half lives. That night I cooked the best version yet of a new dish I have been working on I like to call Pasta alla Rosado.  It’s a pasta casserole dish similar to baked ziti but utilizing a tomato/roasted red pepper puree.  I think the dish came out rather incredible, as did everyone else who partook.

After dinner I just could not let the ladies leave without a night experience of the Santa Barbara Downtown party scene.  Devin and Danielle were exhausted from the day’s excitement.  Melissa on the other hand took it like a champion, got dolled up (she looked exquisite by the way) and rolled with my boss Steve and I.  It was a Wednesday leaving us no other option but Sharky’s.  By the time we got there the line was crazy long and the cover was $10.  At one time I had some swing there but these days after taking an almost two year hiatus from the scene Im back to square one.

When all else fails I go to my standard drinking joint the good old Wild Cat.  Wednesday is hit or miss there, but luckily for us the place had a healthy mix of folks.  I looked rather proper walking in with a woman of Melissa’s standing.  Truth be told what Lisanti Adventure would be complete with out at least one night at the shitty kitty?

The next morning the girls packed up and headed up San Francisco.  Having no place to stay there either I took the liberty to call my minion turned partner in crime John Mauriello and asked if he could put the ladies up for a night to which he obliged.  Once again I sent them up PCH to get the best vistas and adventure for their buck and even set them up with this little burrito joint in Santa Cruz that in my opinion makes the best burritos I have ever eaten in my entire life.

There you have the surfing couch share system working in full effect again.  Cory set the girls up with me.  I in turn set the girls up with John.  At the end of the day everyone was more then stoked.  Melissa, Devin and Danielle have been on the road for almost two weeks and I believe have another week or so to go before making it back to New Jersey.

They keep their own blog of the tales from the road less traveled upon.  I highly recommend giving it a view: http://traveltheus.myblogsite.com/.  If you want to read their take on the time spend in Lisanti Land this link will plug you into it directly: http://traveltheus.myblogsite.com/entry18.html#body.  I always think it is interested to read the same instance described from two different points of views.  Their blog will also be featured on my link bar if you care to visit it in the future as well.

The Jersey Girls and I

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Kooky Kyle Speaks Out

Posted in Blast From the Past, Life, Surfing, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 4, 2011| 11 Comments »

Its rare that I let anyone else have any word time here at Surfingruinedmylife.net except for in the comments, where of course you can sound off on anything you like.  Kooky Kyle as everyone knows took the UCB championship last year thus winning his self expensive paid trip out to Lisanti Land.  He finally booked and actually arrived to Santa Barbara this previous March.    I told Kooky if he felt so inclined to write up a summary of his Lisanti Adventure Tour and if I thought it worth while I would post it here.

Initially this blog was suppose to be posted right after he left, but as soon as he left my relationship with Ades when bad.   Unfortunately for Kooky his blog got shelved in the vault of unwritten blogs (stay tuned for a possible new segment called blogs that did not make the cut.  I actually write nearly double the amount of blogs that I post.  Some nights I come home trashed from the bar and write the strangest things, some are just ludicrous rants, others just took too long for me to finish and thus the moment passed).  Poor Kyle’s blog fell into that category, most likely never to be seen by the public.

Well my friends although three months late here is Kooky’s take on his week in Lisanti Land.  It was suppose be published right after the “Kooky Kyle’s Chris Lisanti Adventure Tour” Blog . I would give that a perusal as well to refresh your memory or bring you up to speed if your new here, also you can compare both his take and mine on the same set of days.  Similar to the blast from the past blogs I will put any hind sight notes in Red.

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I first met Chris the way many of the SRL characters met him, back in the 3rd ave surf shop. Chris was a messianic like figure, sacrificing himself for surfing instead of humanity. Compared to others from that period in Lisanti Land, I did not get to spend as much time with him due to my predicament of residing in the middle of Maryland the majority of the year. For whatever reason, he eventually accepted me into his circle and much to my displeasure gave me the nickname Kooky Kyle (which to my dismay has followed me to college) I did spend some time with Lisanti building out the now gone Dings on Demand. I told my parent’s Chris was paying me, which was a lie, so I would not have to return to MD.

By my sophomore year at UNCW Chris had moved out to California. That spring, when I helped him pack his things as he got ready to leave NJ for good, Chris extended me his invitation to come visit. I took him up on it and booked a ticket for my last spring break. Due to ridiculous airline rules, my short temper and the circumstances under which I was visiting the trip was botched and our friendship almost ended there. I tried booking again in December to come visit but as a result of some glitch, my connecting flight from the east coast did not have the connecting flight to CA. Third time was the charm and I got out to CA march 11.

Based on statistics this trip seemed like a bad idea. Late season in a La Nina year, all arrows pointed towards surfing blown out beach break. But the best laid plans fall through and when one flies by the seat of their pants they are rewarded. 10 days in Lisanti Land resulted in roughly 24 hours of actual surfing.  And not at shitty C-street or ventura.

I knew the trip wouldn’t be a complete skunking when John got in touch with me and informed me that he too would be in Santa Barbara for my first weekend. It also looked like the surf would be coming to the party. I got on my flight for a change too, and then it was game on. Of course my luck is not perfect, tsunami warnings had my parents fretting . I touched down in LAX and took the shuttle to Santa Barbara, driving up the coast is an experience. “This must be C-street, that must be Pitas, that must be little Rincon, and there is Rincon.  Once off the shuttle I attempted to find the trail to Chris’s apartment but if you don’t know what you are looking at, the thing looks like a washed out strip on the hill. Luckily Chris was out from class early and he picked me up and we checked Sandbar, which was just a little too high.

After checking in with John and Brennan we hopped on the freeway to go surf Rincon, but the traffic was impossibly thick, instead we settled on Hammonds. John and Brennan met us in the parking lot for a sunset session and then we headed back to Chris’s apartment where we pregamed for the wildcat.  Everyone who comes here gets at least one crazy night at the Wild Cat.  Due to a lack of forsight, I neglected to mention my peculiar dietary habits (Kooky does not eat pork or beef, but will eat rabbit and venison) and was only able to eat the dirty rice, which was stellar.

I do not remember much of the shitty kitty, but I am told I was quite entertaining before I disappeared into the night. Blacked out I almost made it home, but made a wrong turn. Adrienne luckily came to the rescue and I passed out on the futon. I woke up $26 gone from my wallet, a handful of condoms, and a blue tire cap in my pockets.

John and Brennan had to head back to San FranFabulous, and once they were gone, Chris and I surfed Rincon, I got some that ran and even got a few turns and a barrel or two. The next day Chris had to head down to Ventura for car shopping and other errands. Since the swell was down up in SB it was a better bet for waves.(see surf log). Anyways, the car shopping was quite amusing, Chris has to be the most difficult person to sell a car to.

Sales person: “What are you looking for?”
Chris: “A car”
Sp: “what kind of car?”
C:“one that drives”

No enthusiasm, no emotion, just total apathy. See the More Shackles blog for more on this. One car dealership had no one on the lot, no prices on the cars and pretty much no one inside. When we finally found someone he brought out a rack of car keys and let us check out the cars. “Yea we should have the deeds to most of these cars” and “Yea if you guys want to test drive you can just take one of the cars” sketched us out about the place pretty badly. I still can’t believe how dumb Moses (the guy whom I bent over when I bought my car) and his whole dealership was giving Chris that car with no money down, a blank starter check, no deed to Sammy, no proof of insurance, and a terrible credit history. If you want to steal a car, Bunnin autogroup can make it happen easier than you would think possible.

Tuesday Chris had to size up some suits so we hit up all the surf shops in town, and being in town we checked Sandbar. Chris was not too excited about it, but considering how rarely it breaks, I seized the opportunity to surf it and made him surf it. At first he seemed pretty pissed about it, but once he got some waves he cheered up and was getting plenty of waves. I actually did get some really fun waves that session although I still think Rincon would have been better and I heard EL Cap was good.

Two days later we hit gold. El Capitan broke.  El Cap breaks good like three times a year. That wave is amazing, the bank there is engineered to create the most perfect spinning pits one can imagine. Sure it was packed as hell, and I had to fight for every wave, but I got a few great barrels, probably the best of my life. It was a bit rattling to have rocks thrown at me. I feel I was completely unobtrusive and stayed out of people’s way, but tensions were running high when we got out as the swell had dropped and the crowd had increased. Whatever, it was an amazing session

Chris has always imparted his fucked up wisdom to his little disciples. Whether it be on women, waves, car shopping, music or life plans he has been through some shit and usually has a worthwhile two cents to put in. After talking with him I have come to realize I can finally do the surf travel I have always wanted to do before I get locked into a career or a relationship (that’s right ladies, I am open for joy rides).

The trip was completely worth it. The food was fantastic, the company stellar, and the surf was great even if the wind was being an uncooperative bitch at times. Though all things considered it kept the crowds down and allowed me to get some waves. I strongly suggest those of you readers out there who have never entered a UCB submission to do so. If you don’t play you can’t win, and quite frankly I feel like Slater in 1999 unchallenged for my dominance here, bored and contemplating retirement. This trip is very worth it, quite frankly if we had an off day of surfing I would not have been disappointed, there was plenty of fun shit to do.

The time period when this blog came out I was oblivious that Ades was unhappy or that she was cheating on me.  I was too busy surfing and it was the last time I would be truly happy till  This week.   Looking back I would not have traded one of those surf sessions to allow for a different out come on things and I’m glad I catered to everyone’s needs who came out here for an adventure tour at least I was able to make someone happy during that time period.

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