Just got stabbed in neck by Barbie


My daughter just gave me a hug from Barbie a second ago.  Unfortunately Barbie has some hard plastic limbs and she inadvertently stabbed me in the neck.  There is quite a lot of blood pouring out of my carotid artery as I type.  Hopefully I can stem the flow a little bit, buying me at least enough time to write a proper entry here.  Its been a minute.  Its hard as fuck to concentrate on this shit though because my same three year old kid is sitting here asking me if the socks that she just picked up off of the floor are from Frozen.  She is also asking me if I can find her shoes.  She is also going through all of the drawers of clothes that I just put away yesterday when I cleaned up this fucking nightmare room.  Her purpose in tearing through the drawers is ostensibly to find proper attire for Barbie.  You see, we are getting ready to go to the store together to find buy some Pullups because she is still having issues with potty training and can’t really be trusted to be completely diaper free just yet.  Her biggest issue seems to be not taking a shit in her panties everyday.  Luckily for me the shits she is taking are pretty firm in consistency and don’t really cause that much of a mess which is a good thing.  It kind of keeps my sanity intact for one more day if you know what  I mean.  If you know what I mean really then I feel sorry for you because nobody should ever really have to relate with my nutty life.  Now I have the adorable little child standing next to me going through my little sketch pad and asking me about every single thing that I have ever drawn in there and asking me who each person is.  The problem is she is not satisfied with answers like, “oh its a little man” or “its a little doggie”.  Then she wants me to draw an itsy bitsy spider for her.  She loves that little itsy bitsy fucking spider so much that I have to draw her another one.  Now I’m starting to lose my focus if you know what I mean.  Of course! We just fucking went through that whole thing I forgot.  I’m ignoring her so she is getting more desperate for my attention, telling me that she needs to go into the shower, which she just got out of.  I ignore that so she starts pushing me and saying daddy a few dozen different ways.  Stone face so she starts really pushing me and calling me by my Christian name which happens to be Anthony.

I forgot I was even writing this.  Its like 4 hours later and we went to Walmart together (Daddy and Daughter) and got boisterous for a little while.  We were both just amazed at “how cute” every single product that had a tie into the Frozen movie was.  That’s what Audrey said literally about every single thing she recognized from that blasted movie that fucking Walmart had stocked on their shelves, in special displays all over the fucking store, next to the elevators, escalators, entrances and exits, restrooms, dressing rooms you name it. I actually was amazed…she just thought each thing was so cute and of course she wanted one of everything in the store.  She was cracking me up so I did get her a couple of things and using my mind manipulation techniques I was even able to convince her that her Pampers Pull Ups were a special treat.  What we settled on for her were a pair of shoes with lighted heels and special pics of Frozen princesses Elsa and Anna.  I was considering shoplifting the fucking things to see if I still had it but ultimately decided to leave well enough alone and even though the shoes were safely on baby girl’s feet and the upc price tag safely ensconced in the box containing my new mma hand wraps, when I was paying at the register I made a point out of making sure that the semi attractive cashier (Debbie I think) rang the shoes up.  They were $15.87 by the way.  We also got her a mini basketball which she picked out.  It was neck and neck between  the mini basketball and oddly enough a football (no soccer but football like the NFL football).  She had never previously shown any interest in or knowledge of the fact that football even existed prior to tonight as far as I know so I was kinda tripping on the interest in the football to begin with.

In case you were really fascinated by our shopping trip and you want to know what I purchased for myself, too fucking bad.  The only reason I am still working on this article is because I am getting ready to go running in a few minutes but first I need my piece of shit phone to charge up enough that I can listen to my fucking Spotify punk rock motivational crap and have my Runtastic app remain open on and running for my entire run so I don’t get cheated out of mileage and times like always happens because something stupid like not having a properly charged phone battery rears up hisses and fucks up my mojo for that day.  It never fails to happen when I am on a personal best pace on a day with heavy mileage being run, a day I would be able to use as bragging evidence via a screen shot that I use whenever some body that is not dead and also knows me but hasn’t spoken to me for one reason or another for six months invariably gets to chatting and asks me the innocuous sounding “so what have you been up to”? and I use that as my opening to bore the tears out of another apathetic winner from my past, present, or future.   Anyways yeah not having a fully charged phone can really come back to bite a guy in the ass in these circumstances.

I’m wearing a really homosexual looking Adidas athletic suit thing right now which is not very flattering especially with the pooch belly I still have even after running 1,367 miles since October 6th of last year.  I think it might even be unwashed in fact I’m pretty sure it is.  And its not mine.  I found it in the barn at my cousins house in Los Angeles and I’m reasonably certain that it belonged to my cousin Dayna’s soon to be ex husband.  He is a cross fit guru allegedly ranked number two in the USA at one point.  Anyways my cousin John gave me permission to keep the ugly stinky article of clothing and the funny thing is I don’t think he really had/has the authority to be giving away another man’s homosexually slanted gay pirate muscle suit thing.  But he did.  And I accepted it because I wanted it and I really don’t know why.  Maybe I enjoy dressing like a gay.  I’m pretty sure I do in certain aspects but that’s not a subject to get into right now.

I’m well aware that I am coming across as a mental defective and I’m really not one I don’t think but I have to admit being somewhat enamored with the whole stream of consciousness that can come pouring out of my fingertips almost without even trying at certain times.  Real talk for a second and I just made this mental connection that the reason for my sauciness tonight is that I have been power watching past episodes of Shameless on Netflix and Showtime on Demand for the past few days and if you watch Shameless you know that basically every character is larger than life, smartasstic horny drug taking hedonist sado masochistic and kind of bad overall yet they fascinate me.  Lip is especially cool and I want to fuck Fiona badly.

In case anyone cared or didn’t know I have relocated out of the Temecula Elsinore Casino Meth Capitalistic Inland Empire Bro Prison White Trash Desperado Probation Parole Headquarters to the lovely confines of Los Angeles which has all of that and more but is infinitely more interesting, diverse, busy and I have to think educated in a certain way that is part money and culture but also street smart mixed with school smart mixed with mostly transplanted out of towners from all over the world melting pot with history and millions of stories waiting to be wrenched from the surroundings where they lie.  Temecula in particular has nowhere near the historical appeal of someplace like Hollywood and I would be lying if I didn’t admit to being very happy that I am out here.  I don’t have any sort of permanent thing going on here but I am working towards having something that makes sense to a higher percentage of those with their crazy lives somewhat in control.

Hopefully it will all work out for me and little Audrey out here near Tinseltown.  Who knows maybe I can get her a part in some sitcom or some shit.  She is a little charming actress fake crier extraodinaire already so we shall see.  Along those lines, Ed Harris and his wife (I think) are filming some kind of something at the property where I currently reside.  I’m not going to be more specific than the greater Los Angeles Area and its not because I don’t want any of you to know where I am  but out of respect for the people who are nice enough to let my daughter and myself sleep here temporarily.  Its nice to have a bloody roof over my head and to know my daughter is safe.

I’ve lost my focus here obviously so I am going to cut this post now and if you are lucky I may just publish it in the next five minutes so one or two of you can read along and send some good vibes and thoughts my way.  Any girls that want to fuck, I’m down as of right now.  Private message me and I will give you my cell  phone number. If I have a girlfriend down the road shortly and she is reading this let me take a quick moment to apologize.  I’m sorry honey (whoever you are) I’m just lonely and often really horny. So yeah.  I have gotten with a few very hot little mamas since arriving in Los Angeles. I’m not going to out them on this forum but trust me we are talking about some primo female flesh.  Just counting my blessings.

Steve Jacobson, Josh Erlenmeyer, Elijah Brown, Kris Cass, Steve Bultsma and others have promised to meet up with me out here in Los Angeles and thus far have not made the attempt.  I can understand why for Steve and Elijah who both think I will be an over the top distraction for important women in their lives.  Josh will eventually get in touch and Kris Cass and Stevie will too.  Faith in humanity and faith in friends.  You gotta have that shit if you are going to have a happy life.  I gotta go running now.  I have four miles of warm ups and warm downs with 8 sprints of a half mile thrown in the middle.  45 seconds of rest after each sprint is not nearly enough so I really gotta go motherfuckers.

Thank God (that’s what you are probably muttering to yourself under your breath if you made it this far)

I dedicate this post to the memory of Charles McEldowney.  I love you Charlie.  Hopefully I can hump your girl Mia too.  That would be lovely. 

Liza Rowe and Nikki Knightly are fine ass ladiesHollywood-Sign-Wallpaper

 

 

 

People Who Died: Charles


Karma Police have pulled me over it seems.  I’m hoping I don’t get arrested by these guys because I don’t know how much more of this shit I can take to be honest.  The universe seems to be against me or maybe I am just against success.  Do I owe this life to mediocrity?  I stand in my own way.  I do.  I do.  I really fucking do.  There is a sick part of my heart that jumps all over any impulsive idea that springs into my mind and I’m seemingly too stubborn to stop it.  How many times have I relied on the goodness of strangers to get my ass out of a sling?  So many it boggles the mind.  Blessed and cursed was I…good looks and charm….I rely on both of them way too much.  This rut I’m in just keeps digging itself deeper and deeper.

When does the digging stop and the burying begin?

Scared to find that out to be honest.  The enormity of the task that lies in front of me should I desire to continue battling just seems overwhelming.  All systems are failing lets not mince words.  Is my core still intact or is it rotten and poisoned?  I can’t tell anymore.

Cerebral thinker, polluted well, the water smells off, have I been living in hell?

Surrounded by demons or are they just ghosts? Calling to me.  Beckoning me closer…Closer to what?

That’s the scary part.  Half of me already knows the answer to that and it spells only darkness and a reunion I’m not anxious to have.  I don’t want to be a name on the list of People Who Died, as much as I love them, I don’t want to see them anytime soon.

Yet…even now I hear faded whispers, see smiles in the dark, hear chuckles and scraping,  the moon is so full tonight, translucent light from an unnatural source the sickly green phosphorent beakers of decadence.

Calling to me from  the ancient past, promising details to questions and mysteries I didn’t ask and had no idea remained unsolved.

Regicide, the killing of a king, regicides, the killings of kings…

Who slipped him the poison with a smile on his face and teeth in his heart?  Who whispered my name to the wolves that run the action wherever I journey?

What kind of insect bit Charle’s killer, infected him with madness, forced him to pull the trigger?  You see that’s where it all started for me I believe.  The slow whirlpool spinning me around and around, unable to climb out unable to drown just spinning and spinning….faster and faster.  It all started with Charles McEldowney, Bo Kai Di, Chuck,

Vietnamese….American….Devil….Angel….dead.  For sure he is dead.

It’s been 5 years and 9 months since Chuck was shot by a young and angry Vietnamese kid.  5 y 9 m since the kid knocked on Charlie’s door.  It was in August of 2005. Charles lived real close to Dodger’s Stadium.  I wonder if the Dodgers were home that evening?  Or was the stadium as empty as the soul of the kid who put the gun up to Chuckie’s chest when he opened the door.  Pulled the trigger.  Walked away.  Somebody took Charles to the Emergency Room.  I don’t know what hospital he died at.  I don’t even know how to properly spell his American name or Vietnamese name.  I just know that my life hasn’t been the same since I got the call on the third floor of the Stellar Bar in Melboune, Australia from Heather Batchelder.

Charles drowned on his own blood.  That’s what I’ve been told.  I’m going to let you see this letter that I wrote to the world when I could find time to console myself back then.  From what I understand a printout of this letter was included with Charles when they put him in the oven that incinerated his flesh.  A copy of this letter is intermingled with his ashes and spread everywhere and nowhere.  Charles drowned in his own blood.

Who was there to see him off?  This was an unplanned journey to eternity.  When did his thoughts shift from whatever nonsensical things he was doing 5 minutes before the doorbell rang to “oh my god I am dead god please jesus please oh my god I  can’t breathe help me “.  His eyes must have been frantic.  Or maybe he was just that badass that he accepted it and floated away.

Come to think of it…a lot of things would be easier if I knew what happened to Charles.  I would like to see everything from 5 minutes to door bell ringing to where he is now.  If anywhere.  I’d like to know if he can still have thoughts in his mind.  Where did he end up?  Or is he just gone, not even rotting because of the cremation but just gone as if he never existed?

For at least 6 months after he died, somebody paid his mobile phone bill so his answering machine was still working.  I used to call that number from Australia all the time just to hear his voice.  It would rip me apart but I did it so many times.  I wonder who else used to call and leave messages for Charlie.   Did he ever get them?

I wrote this back in 05 when I was part owner of a bar in Melbourne, Australia.  Got some bad news from Heather Batchelder and Mike Barnes about my very good friend Charles.

—————– Original Message —————–
From: HOt sex and Greed
Date: Aug 11, 2005 1:14 PM

Aug 9, 2005 12:29 AM
Subject: The Legend of Bo Di Kai——–I am Fucking Shattered
Body: Honestly in all my life experiences I have never been as distraught, emotionally wrecked, torn to pieces, sad, angry, and overall just a mess as I was and AM STILL over the stupid senseless killing of my friend and companion and kindred brother Charles McEldowney on the Second of August, 2005 in LA.

Some fucking jackass who obviously can’t handle their drug intake of ice tripped the fuck out of his head and had some delusion of Charlie doing something threatening somehow someway and actually killed my friend Charles.

I have suffered through many fucked up things in my wonderful life to date. None has affected me quite as much as this. I live in Australia now and I can’t fucking even go home to the funeral. It’s so fucked.

If you never met Charles your life is not as fulfilled as it should be let me just tell you that. He was a great personality and the most funny, generous, twisted and delightfully evil man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I know that I will never meet another like him.

If you only knew how many nights in the last twelve years that Charles and I have seen the sunrise together, talking shit, philosophizing, tinkering, drawing, partying, driving, planning, laughing, eating and just being brothers it would boggle the mind.

Fuck yah we were on drugs. Hooray for that. After Charles moved from OC to LA, I got a job at Ticketmaster in LA and was working down on Wilshire Blvd right there in Chinatown. And he lived there off of 8th Street and Grammercy. Literally 5 minutes walk from my work. I used to go over there at lunch and Charles would rescue me from the hellish hangover I would be enduring, with some hits of that dirty pretty ice pipe and we would have the best times. I don’t give a fuck if you think its lame. Drugs or any of it to tell you the truth. It was real and it was never the same and the adventures in LA with Chuck were legendary.

When I moved to downtown LBC with my Australian chick Ella, me and her used to go to Charles mobile house about three nights a week and pick up shit like maybe a half gram or something. It would always be like at 4 in the morning seriously and I would be covered in paint from whatever masterpiece I was working at the time and it was just so NOT THE SAME as the millions and billions of sheep living in California.

Charles sold drugs. Yah for Charles. I trusted him more than I have ever trusted anyone in my life. Implicitly. You know what that word means? Implicitly. Well I don’t know the exact dictionary meaning either but it’s a word that comes to mind when I think of Charles and trust. Like as in, it goes without saying. The dude had my back, any time any place. When I had money I gave him money. When I had none, he took none. It would not be an exagerration to say that Charles has actually given me my stash for the night AND GAS MONEY TO get back home AND A LITTLE MINI STASH for my chick and some sort of tool or gadget, a porno, and some food at least 100 times when I was living in Long Beach.

I would always be broke, being a degenerate gambler, yes its true. But Charles never gave a fuck about that. Literally didn’t give a fuck. Always made the time for me. Always. I tell you what. Straight up. The man meant more to me than almost anyone in this world. I love Charles. I thought he was the coolest person ever and he is my hero. Seriously my life will never be the same and the prospect of visiting California again isn’t even half as appetizing now that he is dead. I am that crushed.

I just found this shit out yesterday and I can’t stop welling up with tears about every 5 minutes. Is there anyone in your life that every time you see this person you feel this swell of affection in your heart and a smile just comes to your lips? Like you guys are so genuinely stoked to be in each others company whenever you get the chance in your busy lives? And once you start talking, all the other people in the room can’t even follow what you guys are talking about because they are just not on that wavelength. That is what we had man. Not in a gay way either for fucks sake. But in a non gay way Charles was a soulmate of mine and I really miss him so terribly much as I am typing this right now on a cold and rainy Melbourne Tuesday, the ninth of August, 2005. I miss you Charlie and I am fucking not very happy about any of this let me tell you.

As always with me and Charles he is paving the way. Charles was the stuff that legends are made of. Let the storytelling start now. I would say Rest in Peace but Charles liked staying up. Not resting. I do too. So all I can say is I love you brother and I miss you and not a cliche here: I will think about you every day for the rest of my life and thank you so much for every little thing you have ever done for me. You fucking rule. Bye Chuck.

Sneaking into Pechanga


This was written and unpublished January 17th, 2011.

My friend Dxxxn Mxxxxxxn paroled from the California Men’s Colony West Yard approximately two months ago.  I got a chance to hang out with him yesterday and last night for the first time in quite a few years.  I’ve known Dxxxn since I was a young lad.  He is a couple years older then me.  Its kind of strange that this guy has been in prison plenty of times and yet, of all the people I currently have connections with in the  non cyber world, I would have to say that he is one of the few that I would trust to be in my house alone for an extended period of time without having to worry about anything going missing or  my house being trashed etc.  Much like my friend, Charles McEldowney (Rest in Peace Charlie), Dxxxn is a testament to the adage that there is indeed, honor among thieves.

He came over with a bottle of vodka and a bottle of 7-up asking me, “hey do you have any ice?  I really need a drink.”  I was like “Dxxxxxxxxxxxxn Mxxxxxxn, what’s up buddy?  Sure I have ice, do you want cubed or crushed?”  He was down with the cubed.  I made myself a drink as well.  He had a Vodka-7.  I had a Vodka-7 too, except it was a special one, hold the Vodka.  LOL.  I’m not really a very big drinker anymore.  Just not down with it.

It was a fun time.  We talked about interesting shit like prison stories.  He told me all kinds of crazy stories.  I showed him my paintings.  He was in awe.  Truly he was.  I even convinced him to not only drive us to Pechanga, but even kick down cash to gamble with.  Now that’s a good kid don’t you think?  Of course I had bragged that I was a pretty savvy individual when it comes to gambling.  Everything I said turned out to be true as hell.  He gave me twenty bucks for Cleopatra Keno and I proceeded to turn that into 80.  We went to a blackjack table and he gave me a hundred bucks to buy in with.  He didn’t even want to play but was content to stand behind me and watch me.  I proceeded to turn that into 190.

All the intense gambling got our hunger up so we went and had dinner in the food court.  I had an excellent cheeseburger and french fries with ranch dressing.  I also showed Dxxxn how crazy I was by making myself a “suicide” drink with all of the fountain drinks they had available.  We’re talking maybe 17 different things and I used them all including the unsweetened tea and all the diet stuff.  I  know it doesn’t really sound all that appetizing but trust me it was really very good.

After a relaxing and interesting dinner I decided that we should go upstairs to the poker room.  I wanted Dxxxn to see my poker prowess.  Of course I kicked ass in the $1/$2 No Limit Hold ’em ($40 minimum buy in).  I won all of the hands which I went to showdown with including this one memorable thriller where this old lady raised it to $6 bucks preflop from the button with Pocket Queens.  I had Jack and Four of hearts in the big blind.  There were like 6 people in the hand so even though my hand wasn’t that amazing preflop, I was definitely getting the right odds to call the additional $4.   I flopped two pair and suckered the lady to call my all in bet.  I took that old woman DOWN!  She was very nice about it and congratulated me on a good hand.  I thought it was a pretty classy move on her part especially since my starting hand was so shitty compared to her Pocket Queens.

Anyway, I didn’t finish this post when I started it like about a week ago so maybe I could write a little more some other day but not right now lol.

Not sure what I was thinking
Hi, My name is Anthony Mandich and I truly mean it

Google Charles McEldowney After This


I wrote this back in 05 when I was part owner of a bar in Melbourne, Australia.  Got some bad news from Heather Batchelder and Mike Barnes about my very good friend Charles.

—————– Original Message —————–
From: HOt sex and Greed
Date: Aug 11, 2005 1:14 PM

Aug 9, 2005 12:29 AM
Subject: The Legend of Bo Di Kai——–I am Fucking Shattered
Body: Honestly in all my life experiences I have never been as distraught, emotionally wrecked, torn to pieces, sad, angry, and overall just a mess as I was and AM STILL over the stupid senseless killing of my friend and companion and kindred brother Charles McEldowney on the Second of August, 2005 in LA.

Some fucking jackass who obviously can’t handle their drug intake of ice tripped the fuck out of his head and had some delusion of Charlie doing something threatening somehow someway and actually killed my friend Charles.

I have suffered through many fucked up things in my wonderful life to date. None has affected me quite as much as this. I live in Australia now and I can’t fucking even go home to the funeral. It’s so fucked.

If you never met Charles your life is not as fulfilled as it should be let me just tell you that. He was a great personality and the most funny, generous, twisted and delightfully evil man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I know that I will never meet another like him.

If you only knew how many nights in the last twelve years that Charles and I have seen the sunrise together, talking shit, philosophizing, tinkering, drawing, partying, driving, planning, laughing, eating and just being brothers it would boggle the mind.

Fuck yah we were on drugs. Hooray for that. After Charles moved from OC to LA, I got a job at Ticketmaster in LA and was working down on Wilshire Blvd right there in Chinatown. And he lived there off of 8th Street and Grammercy. Literally 5 minutes walk from my work. I used to go over there at lunch and Charles would rescue me from the hellish hangover I would be enduring, with some hits of that dirty pretty ice pipe and we would have the best times. I don’t give a fuck if you think its lame. Drugs or any of it to tell you the truth. It was real and it was never the same and the adventures in LA with Chuck were legendary.

When I moved to downtown LBC with my Australian chick Ella, me and her used to go to Charles mobile house about three nights a week and pick up shit like maybe a half gram or something. It would always be like at 4 in the morning seriously and I would be covered in paint from whatever masterpiece I was working at the time and it was just so NOT THE SAME as the millions and billions of sheep living in California.

Charles sold drugs. Yah for Charles. I trusted him more than I have ever trusted anyone in my life. Implicitly. You know what that word means? Implicitly. Well I don’t know the exact dictionary meaning either but it’s a word that comes to mind when I think of Charles and trust. Like as in, it goes without saying. The dude had my back, any time any place. When I had money I gave him money. When I had none, he took none. It would not be an exagerration to say that Charles has actually given me my stash for the night AND GAS MONEY TO get back home AND A LITTLE MINI STASH for my chick and some sort of tool or gadget, a porno, and some food at least 100 times when I was living in Long Beach.

I would always be broke, being a degenerate gambler, yes its true. But Charles never gave a fuck about that. Literally didn’t give a fuck. Always made the time for me. Always. I tell you what. Straight up. The man meant more to me than almost anyone in this world. I love Charles. I thought he was the coolest person ever and he is my hero. Seriously my life will never be the same and the prospect of visiting California again isn’t even half as appetizing now that he is dead. I am that crushed.

I just found this shit out yesterday and I can’t stop welling up with tears about every 5 minutes. Is there anyone in your life that every time you see this person you feel this swell of affection in your heart and a smile just comes to your lips? Like you guys are so genuinely stoked to be in each others company whenever you get the chance in your busy lives? And once you start talking, all the other people in the room can’t even follow what you guys are talking about because they are just not on that wavelength. That is what we had man. Not in a gay way either for fucks sake. But in a non gay way Charles was a soulmate of mine and I really miss him so terribly much as I am typing this right now on a cold and rainy Melbourne Tuesday, the ninth of August, 2005. I miss you Charlie and I am fucking not very happy about any of this let me tell you.

As always with me and Charles he is paving the way. Charles was the stuff that legends are made of. Let the storytelling start now. I would say Rest in Peace but Charles liked staying up. Not resting. I do too. So all I can say is I love you brother and I miss you and not a cliche here: I will think about you every day for the rest of my life and thank you so much for every little thing you have ever done for me. You fucking rule. Bye Chuck.

Did this all night on Memorial Day's Eve 2010