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




Current Events or 15 Ways to Love your Leaver

Kony 2012 is a video I have decided that I don’t have any desire to see.  I don’t know why I don’t know what Kony 12 can kiss my butt.  Sorry I just woke up after a pretty long period of rest on the couch at Heather Batchelder’s house in beautiful, picturesque Tustin, California.

I’m  not too sure how the Encyclopedia Dramatica does it. Their entries all have hundreds of links to all sorts of interesting and exciting content.  I can’t imagine how fucking long it takes them to write each of their posts.  Kudos to them.  Although I can’t claim to know a quarter of the shit about the internet that they do and therefore I am often lost trying to keep up with what they are talking about, starting with any one of their entries is a good fucking way to get fucking lost in internet hell for a day.  Or longer.  The internet, the real internet, wow….it’s truly a scary place full of hidden gems and content galore and if you don’t have control over yourself (and I don’t) then you can easily find yourself losing whole chunks of time basically doing nothing except filling your head up with knowledge, theories, half assed suppositions, biased reporting on demented and seldom heard of topics, gore and death with a sprinkling of funny, feel good shit but mostly a lot of sex and death to be honest. Okay, so I’m reading the paragraph I just typed out and imagining all of the different psycho locations I could take you guys on just by linking to the words I’ve written and it comes over me that I have quite a bit of power in these attractive hands of mine.  If you have read this far then that means I’ve got you on the hook and really its up to me  not you where that hook can take you.  Do you want to go to heaven or hell? Would you rather get the hell part over with while you are on this mostly hellish planet or do you want to forego all the suffering and experience divinity firsthand while still alive?  Good question you say.  Or maybe you don’t who really gives a fuck?  I don’t because I know that I don’t even have one true fan of my rambling writing.  Nope there isn’t even one person out there that can honestly say that they can’t wait for my next post, or that they have read everything I have ever written.  Nobody could pass even a simple trivia test based on the many posts that have preceded this one.  I don’t even think I could.  After all, I was higher then a kite for the majority of the posts on this website and I have never really had the time to go back through and read over every single one of them.  I’m not a professional blogger.  I don’t get paid jack shit for writing this.  I can’t even tell you why I bother writing this (we’re back again to NOBODY GIVES A RAT’S ASS) blog.  I know its not fresh or hip or cool. I know I sound like a fool and a tool and most of you wish I would drown in a pool or fall off my stool.  Lame.  All of it.  Lame.  The same.  Shame.  Fame is something I will never get.  Yet I seek it.  Couldn’t even tell you why but I assume the answer begins with the buzzword Narcissism.  Okay listen I’m sorry for sounding so stupid in this paragraph. I’m going to stop with the stupid now and tell you guys a good story .  So if you’ve somehow risen above (whatever that means) and made it to this point of this story then you are in luck because you are about to get a true story from the archives of my life.

What can I say I’m a Bad Kid

There’s this chick that works at Jack in the Box by my house in Norco named Fatima.  She’s a Mexican girl, skinny and  hot in some crazy way that makes me want to insert cock.   I know that sounds a bit rude and the ladies are probably thinking what a P-I-G pig I am and all that sorta jazz.     Just because I want to be naked and inside this “Shift Leader” who works the graveyard shift at Jack in the Crack doesn’t make me a bad person.   I’m just being honest  so take it for what it is.

Anyways back to my original thought on this topic  okay?  So like a couple of nights ago right…in fact it was Sunday April 3rd.    I went to Jack in the Box because I was starving.  The time was about 3am. Cash on hand was limited to a single one hundred dollar bill. After picking up food I was planning on a quick stop at 7-11 for some smokes.

I already knew for a fact that 7-11 was not fond of breaking anything larger then a five dollar bill after 4 pm.  They run a million dollar a year retail store yet they continue to post signs warning that “This store does not carry more then $30 in cash” in an  attempt to  dissuade would be robbers.  7-11 is hoping that crooks are not going to want to risk a lengthy prison sentence for  a roll of quarters and a few limp $1 bills.   7-11 has their heads up their collective asses on this one I say.  First of all nobody believes that bullshit about the store only having $30 bucks on hand.  That’s a crock of shit and everyone knows it.  If someone did rob them and found only $30, wouldn’t that just piss an armed robber off to the point of endangering the hapless clerk even more?

I digress.  Sorry.

Back to Jack in the Box:

Like I said I went by Jack in the Box, ordered the All American Combo with Coke.  My order was taken by Fatima.  Seeing her in that sexy manager outfit,  all black, I admit checking out her ass as we shot the shit while she was bent over filling up my Coke.  I’m probably dreaming but it sure seemed that Fatima was extra attentive to me whenever I saw her.  The dream turns decidedly “wet” as I imagine rubbing “special sauce” all over her naked body

Shit I should take that back I forgot she might read this shit someday and she might not understand that I’m only fucking around.  In fact, I can think of  a few other people who I would suggest reading this story with a grain of salt if you know what I mean!!

She told me the total ($4.56 or something) and I pulled out my Ben Franklin and handed it to her.  Even though Jack in the Box has their own set of signs spinning shit regarding  the lack of more then  $50 cash after something like 2pm in the afternoon, I was sure that I was operating under a different set of rules. Fatima started walking to the different registers searching for enough change to pay me the $95 I have coming.  I was pretty surprised when she walked back to the drive thru window and said, “Sorry, I can’t break it, I only have $70 total”.

At that point my food was ready to hand over.  I was hungry.  So I said to her in a groveling sorta whiny voice, “Well what can I do then cuz I need my food!”.  She shocked me big time by saying I could just pay for it later.  That generous offer really got my mind racing . Visions of boobies  danced through my head. Hell yea.  I quickly agreed,  thanked her and proceeded to quickly drive to 7-11 about 100 yards away.  There was no simple way to get there because of the curb that surrounded 7-11 .  I had to basically drive 1000 yards, and it was late as shit.  No biggie until I was speeding around the left side of the place and nearly drove into a couple of officers from the Corona Police Department who were parked up and chatting.

I did a mental inventory of my car and my person, and my state of mind, decided that I had nothing to worry about, and continued confidently  without really slowing down right by them and turned into an empty parking space in front of the store.  I got out of the car, carefully walking  like a sober man, (which I was actually).  I didn’t turn my head to see if they were watching me as I’m not on probation or parole and I don’t really  have much to hide from the cops.

The next huge challenge of the early morning was somehow making it alright with the crazy, Punjabi, serial murderer that worked the graveyard at 7-11. I needed to get out of that store with a pack of smokes, some chocolate milk and Hostess Chocolate Donuts, with the change from the $100 dollar bill and probably within a normal time limit so the Corona’s finest, out there shooting the shit didn’t get suspicious and  start thinking that I was robbing the place of its $30 dollars in cash they had.  This may sound easy to you as you are reading this but you don’t know this dude at 7-11.  My old girlfriend  April, said he  was for sure the Indian version of Jeffery Dahmer and I had to agree with her. He has theses weird eyes that seem to mentally undress you as you walk into store.  Mentally undress not only your clothes…which maybe wouldn’t be that bad if the price was right hahaha, but mentally undress your skin from flesh and flesh from bones?  That’s where I draw the line.

I’ve skateboarded to 7-11  tons of times at night super late wanting a smoke, having no money and hanging out in front waiting for someone to go in the store and come out with a pack of Marlboro lights so I could sheepishly hit them up.  “Hey do you have an EXTRA smoke?” I’d say.  I’d be all sweaty and haphazardly dressed, but somehow people never found it creepy that I was sitting out in front of 7-11 in Norco, at 3am, with my skateboard and sweat dripping down my apparently 30 year old face, asking them for cigarettes.  In fact, chicks often would stop and have a little conversation with me.  Ha ha ha the power of beauty still works ha ha ha.  Or maybe I’m kidding myself and its just that I have no shame and don’t notice the fake smiles on these peoples faces as they stop, open their packs of smokes and hand me one.  Who knows.  Anyways, I’ve always been a little creeped out myself standing there because 7-11 Serial Murderer man would be looking at me the whole time behind his bushier then shit eyebrows and cold, calculating, “I want to eat your left ass cheek followed by your arm” dark, brown, Punjabi eyes.  I’m never really that polite to the dude either because he really makes me feel uncomfortable.  You can’t talk to him at all.  He doesn’t get politeness, he doesn’t know English I don’t think.  He just stares at you with those serial killer eyes.

So anyways, I had my work cut out for me.  What I ended up doing to combat the problem was picking out a bunch of individual items that he would have to ring up one by one and then if he wanted to deny me on the hundred dollar bill he would have to sit there and un ring them up one by one and put them all back.  So I grabbed chocolate milk, some chocolate Hostess donuts, some 20 cent candies and two packs of smokes.  It came out to like $14.  Then I whipped out the hundred and right away shit was going down!  He pointed to the “This Store Carries only $30 after 2pm” sign, shook his head in disgust, hemmed and hawed, asked me if I had a credit card to use and even went so far as to take off his belt, pull down his pants and start whipping himself on his ass while chanting, “Allah Akbar, Allah Akbar, Allah Akbar” while his eyes rolled to the back of his head and foam started coming out of his mouth.

I’d seen it all before.  These tactics weren’t working on a hustlah like me.  He quickly realized that I wasn’t quaking in fear, vomiting profusely or pissing all over the place so he quit with the dramatics, made the “Shhhh” signal by cupping his hand into a fist except for his long, dirty index finger, with the black nail polish which he put to his lips.  He reached over to his right, opened this brown binder thing and pulled out a massive stack of cash, like literally $500 bucks worth of 1’s, 5’s, 10’s and 20’s.  He gave me a sheepish grin, counted out my $86 bucks in change and hustled me out of the store.  That was on Sunday night, actually Monday morning.

I sauntered by the cops again, who were still there.  They both turned their heads when I passed them but they realized that I was too much to handle and that they could just as easily sit there eating their fucking donuts and shooting the shit until their shift was over so they both nodded back to me after I respectfully nodded their way.  I ended up going back home for a little while and then headed to Soboba Casino at like 5 in the morning.  I won’t get into all of that shit right now because it’s not the point of this particular story.  Actually what was the point of this particular story?  Oh yeah, Fatima from Jack in the Box.  So to finish it up, I had like $16 bucks Stephanie Kelly gave me for gas after working yesterday which of course isn’t really enough to take to the casino after you factor in the horrendous price of goddamn gas these days.  I still owed the $4 bucks to Fatima at Jack in the Box right. So I decided to be like this amazing human being, and go pay it back, again at like 3 in the morning last night.  At least I thought my intentions were good but I realized after that I’m just a scum bag like everybody else.  Why? Well, I went through the drive through and ordered a Mini Funnel Cake which are the shit if they don’t over cook them.  You just spread some of that strawberry jam Jack in the Box is famous for  on them and they are really quite a tasty and scrumptious little snack item.  My intention was to get the funnel cake, slide right up to the drive through window and play the hero role with sexy little Fatima.  I imagined she would ooh and aaah over me being such an honest and caring little fella by paying her back and that we would get to chatting and …..I don’t know …..maybe she would wanna come over after work at 6 a.m. for a little breakfast sandwich if you know what I mean.  Ha hahaa.  Well you know what they say about the best laid plans of mice and men….

Imagine my horror and disgust when I got to the drive through window and some fat ass preppy looking Mexican GUY opened the window and told me it was $1.08 for the fucking funnel cake.  I was like,  “Fuck my life!”.  I asked his sweaty looking, preppy looking, greasy looking ass if Fatima was working.  He looked at me sorta strange like and said, “Fatima?  No she’s not working.” Fine whatever.  And here’s the reason I’m still filled with that feeling of “I’m a dick”.  I could have paid off my little bill very easily whether Fatima was there or not.  She told in her sexy Spanish accent that she was leaving a note with a copy of the receipt for whoever was working so I would have no problem having my balance cleared.

So I ask you faithful reader….did I voluntarily mention to Mr. Fat Preppy Boy that I needed to pay back a food front from the other night and hand over the $4 bucks?  I think we both know the answer to that one right?  Fuck no I didn’t.  Ha ha ha fuck that!  I’ll wait for another time when Sexy Fatima IS working and I’ll see if I can still parlay the whole situation into some kind of dirty Jack in the Box fantasy sex or something.

Maybe I’ll just pay it back regardless of who is working next time I go.  The battle inside my head between the Angel on my right shoulder and Satan on my left continues to rage on.  I’ll have to let everyone know who wins.  I’m going to try very hard to be a good kid but sometimes I have problems with that.  Until next time everyone.  Take care of yourselves and each other.

Satanthony Mandich, Urban Legend and Shot Caller


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I, Anthony Mandich, promise to pretty much piss everybody off here

I don't ask for much these days and I don't bitch and whine if I don't get my way

What should I talk about today hmmm?  All sorts of shit perhaps?  Okay, well I feel like a pretty big star right now because Antonio Sabato Jr., that hunk of a man posted a little thank you blurb on my Facebook wall a little bit ago.  What a nightmare for that poor guy really.  I mean how does one deal with one supercreepy yet oddly popular little fella like me?  I am doing an unauthorized and definitely unsolicited yet supremely fucking cool painting of his girlfriend cheryl and i posted a copy of it on his wall so he came on my wall and said thanks.  I mean he doesn’t want to appear ungrateful to his fans and shit so that’s understandable but still though, how many sicko fans does the dude probably have?  I can only imagine how many dumpy dowdy mid western fatty housewives from Kansas or Kentucky or Nebraska or some shit are members of his fan club.  My God, the thought horrifies me for him.  All these wanna be sexy, wanna be cougars (without the cash, class and with triple the ass) who fell in love with Antonio when was on General Hospital way back when….wow.  I’m sure tons of them have painted portraits of him or baked him cookies or sent him their size 124 extra stout soiled panties in the mail, total delusions of grandeur running through their fat little heads that Antonio really wants any of this shit.  That Antonio wants anything more then to be left alone lol.  But still, he is a very successful public figure with a cultivate heartthrob image and has probably always felt obligated to personally thank everyone for whatever little gifts they send, no matter how fucking insane they might actually be.  And he’s actually totally fucking cool.  I mean I know plenty of my own REAL FLesH AND bLOOD FRIENDS,  who feel it well within their rights to delete my posts or censor me or whatever.  To his credit, everything I have ever posted on his wall, is still there.  So I respect him for reals and I feel sorry for him too.  So I try not to be too much of a creep with my celebrity friends and anyways fucking hell the painting is sick as fuck.  Its rad.  So maybe I’m a delusional midwestern cougar fatty myself and if I do send him the painting someday, it will probably end up God knows where but doubt if its gonna be hanging over the dining room table lol.  Well thats my first topic at a close.  Bottom line, don’t be hard on Antonio Sabato Jr. , as he is a cool mother fucker, a handsome mother fucker, with a hotter then goddamn hell girlfriend, and he’s not a dick.  Alrighty moving right along….

Actually Anthony Mandich is not worthy to paint this Goddess

Wow I could go in so many directions right now.  Should I talk about this chick Kendra that I made out with for brief interlude on Saturday night in Los Angeles, should I talk about Steve Jacobson and how good he has it with his sexy ass girlfriend who is down to be his sex slave basically, should I talk about Ryan Johnson, that suave debonair friend of mine, with a face whose cheeks you just wanna squeeze he’s that handsome of a specimen?  Should I talk about my last sexual encounter(s) with _ _ _ _ _ _ or _ _ _ _ _ or _ _ _ _ _ _?  Should I talk about the many beautiful young ladies I fell in love with at the Apoolcalypse party on Saturday August 21st, 2010 at Dystopian Studios? There were many new faces such as Toni, H (8th Letter)-WOW!, Sasha, Kim.  There were many faces I’ve seen before but only strengthened my love for like Eunice, Eden, and Heather.  There was one notable face missing, that I’m pining over, Erica.  So yeah we could go there and stay there for a couple of blogs. 

I could talk about the termination of all contact forever with my ex wife Briar.  There are plenty of untold scandalous details to unfold for you captive readers.  Since she can now officially “suck it” she is fair game so perhaps that’s a topic?

We could get into some really taboo stuff like my dealing with Rodney who none of you are familiar with at the moment but you would be fascinated with learning about.

Gambling is a topic I am aching to get into with you all.  I have a horror story hand to tell you about but I’m still sickened by it myself so I don’t actually know if i I wanna go there right now.

We could even gloss over a few little sentences about my buddy Sean Stenlake’s sexier then goddamn hell little princess of a girlfriend Natasha who is a real life Playboy Playmate who Sean is privileged enough to ravage on a daily basis about forty feet from where I know find myself perched.

LA in general is not a bad topic and i have lots to go over on that end as well.  We could get into a little Area 33 discussion, we could talk about Jacen Onda and his antics.  I could finish by previously started series about my ex girlfriend “Polly” or was it “Dolly” who is now safely back in her husbands house in “Texas”.

My fat dog Woodie getting owned, punked and probably butt fucked by Snickers on a nightly basis, is a topic I have alot of enthusiasm to discuss.  My brother Jon, wow, I would love to do a special series just on Jon alone.  He’s a special and unique young creature of the night and we could spend many an hour together about him.

We are both urban legends. Anthony Mandich and Jon Mandich.

I’ve got an MMA fighter friend named Ian McCall who I plan to get up to some mischief with really soon.  We could talk about him and his competitive sexual nature.  He’s definitely a kindred spirit although I’m not too sure he  would be really that proud of such a horrible fact.

Casino Junkie Crew is one topic I plan on spending several hours regaling you with tales about.  Probably I will end up writing a book about topic alone if  live long enough.

Codependent’s reunion show, Jim Kennedy’s birthday bash, Ricky Menace’s return to the stage….all on three consecutive days starting this Friday…we will get into all the gory details of that weekend but lets wait until that weekend happens.

What else?  The Christian Facebook Army, Caffeine Magazine and my exclusion therefrom, JoJo Meadows art promotion efforts on my behalf in the UK, the state of the union of my art career and life in general, the chaos that is my room.  All of these are worthy topics and I want to get to all of them.  As you can see we have lots to discuss and I  think I’m gonna leave everybody with that for now as I have a poker tournament to play on Full Tilt at the moment, as well as a painting I am working on.

Bye Everybody.  I miss you Michelle and Kellie the Bear Woman