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

 

 

 

A Horse with No Name


When I was 14 years old I received a horse for Christmas from my parents. I had been riding horses as much as possible since I turned 11. There was a horse in Mexico named El Bayo that I used to rent and ride whenever possible. His name was pronounced like caballo which is Spanish for horse. I made a little song in Spanish about him and it went like this: Tengo un caballo, su nombre es el Bayo. El Bayo was a bay gelding with a white mark on his forehead and four white hoofs. I would pay $5 USD to the skinny cowboys that ran the little horseback riding outfit that was located pretty close to the area where my Aunty Monica would take all the kids every summer on vacation. We would often stay for the whole summer almost. It was rad. I would get so black it was amazing. My cousins Glenn, Mikey, Donna, Richard, Mark, Joey, Nelson, Rachel, Charlene, Cindy Lou, Timmy, Mitchell, my sister Natalie, and various others would be down there getting pretty crazy. Anyways, El Bayo’s owners put up with me for some reason even though I was a very annoying kid. I learned a lot of Spanish from them and I really loved El Bayo. He was very fast and I used to run him on the beach all the time it was seriously totally cool.

Riding El Bayo part of the year wasn’t enough after a while so I started pestering my parents to get me a horse of my own. Since we lived in the boondocks on Compton Avenue in Corona, it was actually legal for us to own a horse if we wanted one so that was a plus in my eyes. I pretty much hated everything else about living in that house at 18430 Compton Avenue so I figured that having a horse would in some way make up for the unhappiness that pervaded my existence. Somehow I managed to stay on the reasonably good side of my dad that year although it was a challenge. I just walked on eggshells and kept my mouth shut for the most part and on Christmas Day with a bunch of relatives on hand to witness it, I put the snaffle bit on my horse with no name, and the bareback pad and I took him across the street from our house which was just a a big old field and took him for a ride.

That ride was a ride through hell. My horse was an Appaloosa gelding and he was pretty fucking wild. Skittish and really big and powerful and scary actually. I rode him about two hundred yards one way in the field and then when I turned him around he totally bolted. It was scary as hell and when we started approaching the street and all my relatives who had gathered to witness my triumphant ride I could see that he was not going to slow down no matter how hard I pulled on the puny snaffle bit in his mouth. It didn’t have any effect at all and lo and behold I was flying off of his back and landing on my own. Seeing stars, I got up and gingerly walked into the house defeated and sad. That was the way my life went back when I was younger.

beware the wrath of /b/ 4chan/b/ versus @flyguyparsons


Screen shot taken from the twitter account of Aaron Jacob Parsons

Its been an interesting day in Cyberspace.  A perfect storm of sorts has come together and unleashed her fury on  krashthrills.wordpress.com in the form of thousands and thousands of views of an article I wrote regarding Aaron Jacob Fosters yesterday.  As of 7:01 p.m. tonight I have had 6,938 people from 11 countries visit my website and read what I wrote. There 3,583 clicks of links that I provided that contain more information/corroboration of the crimes that are proven alleged by what I have written, all of which originated on the /b/ forum on 4chan.org.  I want to take this opportunity to give props to the guys and girls who reside at /b/.  They might be a little warped but collectively they hold a great deal of power in their fingertips.  It was awesome to be a witness to this power as it unfolded.  Awesome as in I was awestruck and still am.  Certainly it is not a good idea to get on the bad side of a group that has this kind of power at its disposal.  Even worse to do it when they are bored and frothing at the bit for something to do.

It seems a bit of a foregone conclusion that the consequences are going to be severe and swift for the individuals responsible for the degrading beat down and robbery of the still unnamed victim in this case.  I feel absolutely no sympathy for the perpetrators.  I don’t give a shit what they have to say about it or what their excuse is or if they even remember what they were doing because of intoxication levels , temporary amnesia etc.  I really hope that prison is the end result for Aaron Jacob Parsons and everyone else involved, especially that annoying drunk bitch wearing her black panties parading around the street like she was some glamour queen.  Fuck her.  (man she STILL pisses me off)

The haters calling me racist can all suck it to be honest.  I am not even going to bother addressing that accusation.  It’s not true and my life and anything I’ve ever written in the past will attest to that FACT.  So, hate on haters.

I got a call from a reporter named Justin from the Baltimore Sun.  We talked for quite a few minutes about the origin of this situation, 4chan’s /b/ forum and more.  His view, stated to me anyhow, was that this is an instance of the internet being used for good and he was quick to show his admiration for the detective work done by the /b/ forum lurkers.  I agree wholeheartedly with this sentiment.  Choosing to fight against the “forces that /b/ is the ultimate example of the idiot who brings a knife to a gun fight”.

Have a good night everyone……Anthony Mandich

ImageADDENDUM: I replied to an email from the reporter I mentioned.  Here is what I had to say.  And I quote:

hey justin it was good talking to you.  i’m sending you this stuff before i even blog it so i must think you’re cool.  just don’t get me killed lol.

 
here is a quote from me if you want
 
“aaron jacob parsons is a wanted man”….post after post on /b/ repeated those words. it was late i was annoyed.  the arrogance shown by @flyguyparsons and @CASHton-Kutcher by posting the video of themselves proudly separating a man from his dignity really angered me.  they acted like it was so funny and so cool.
 
to beat down a guy like that, seemingly with impunity when: 
 
(A) he didn’t deserve it  and 
(B) couldn’t do anything about it but bleed and sit there bewildered, humiliated and alone and 
(C) further add to his pain by taking everything of value in his possession, stripping him naked, and letting some ugly drunk annoying bitch slap him open palmed across his face while he’s on his back  just didn’t sit well with me.
 
and the poor guy took it like a champ.  he didn’t defend himself (which was probably smart in this instance because this was a bear that you had to play dead against for sure.  so yeah he didn’t defend himself but he also didn’t bring further dishonor to himself by crying, pissing or moaning.  
 
two things resonated strongly with me.
 
1. the images of parsons mugging for the camera before the humiliation began and then creeping up and start digging through the guys pockets like it was a big joke.  i really hated that.
2.  that ugly chick wearing her panties with her big old ass all drunk grinding on the guy before it all started and then when he was down on his back she’s there standing behind his head and starts slapping in his face HARD and he can’t even see where these blows are coming from because she is standing behind his head.  that was particularly cowardly and thinking about it right now gets my blood boiling.  
 
you asked me what was different about this video as opposed to the many other millions of videos that are out there on the internet.  I am going to answer that with a post i did on some girls from a sorority at bowling green who were tragically killed in a car accident a few weeks ago.  my answer is obvious.
 

Fucking Horny.


 

got such a yearning for some completely ethereal woman goddess to  come steal my soul and force me to worship her.  its like this ache that is more than sexual.  i mean obviously although i have tried to talk to myself into believing that one of the many girls from my past was meant to be my destiny none of them actually were.  that makes me super sad in a way but also really relieved and happy in a way too.  maybe it was all my fault in each and every doomed relationship but so be it man.  whatever the case may have been i was obviously not content enough to conform to the unspoken boundaries that i know and they knew i was confined to. no matter what the reason was for my deliberate hard headed stubborn  way of living the bottom line remains the same.

my destiny woman, if she even exists which i doubt, but i hope, will be a woman who i can throw my whole being into and  who i never have to even care if we are at home or out living in the forest by ourselves or in a big city because she so fully captivates me and i her that the rest of the world ceases to exist in any meaningful way.  the one.  everybody talks about the one.  do they even know what they are saying what they are hoping for what they are dreaming about.

i have had wondrous nights of incredible leave this planet kind of lust filled sexual frenzy tongue in mouth until lips are chapped can’t get enough of her or her of me.  hundreds of those nights with probably a hundred girls.  why couldn’t i sustain that zest that passion that look at her always and be horny in my heart and in my pants?

just give me my soulmate make it clear to me that she is my soulmate and let me fend for myself with her.  i don’t want riches i don’t want fame (well yeah i do unless i get her) just give me the woman of my dreams who is searching for the man of her dreams and when she dreams she sees my face and touches my lips and i hers.  give her to me while i still have time to enjoy her.  i want to experience that great love that rare as fuck love the kind that you don’t talk about cuz its so fucking amazing you don’t even have time to brag or boast all you have time to do is stare at her and miss her when she is gone its not an obsession but you can’t live (happily) without being by her side where a weekend away is pretty traumatic.

i will trade it all for her.

woman if you are out there look for anthony mandich and find him before it is too late.  universe if it is someone i know now let me know.

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.

Sociopath School Shooter Salad:


Sociopath School Shooter Salad:

First you take deviant teenagers with hormonal imbalances and an inflated sense of self importance that borders on narcissism.

Toss in their desperate need to seek out attention whether it be positive or negative, a warped sense of unjustified entitlement in a world that refuses to go along for the ride.

Mix with a pathetic built in excuse from their upbringing (sexual abuse, bullying, lack of affection, poverty…whatever).

Sprinkle example (Columbine) after example (Virginia Tech) after example (University of Texas) after example (Westside Middle School) of those that have paved the deranged way for these impulsive little sociopaths.

The little bastards probably beat off to pictures of Dylan Klebold dressed in black with a pool of blood surrounding his ugly head while Pearl Jam’s “Jeremy” plays over and over ad infinitum.

The focus of the media and all of her sycophantic followers (of which group I freely admit belonging to) is on the sensational and shocking thrill killing of the day week month etc.  The antihero perpetrators of these terrible deeds are made immediately infamous.

Remember that need for attention I pointed out above?  Infamy is attention.  There is a gratifying payoff in the form of the surrounding hoopla and intense, (albeit temporary)  microscopic scrutiny to which we subject these doomed children of a lost generation to after they commit these senseless crimes, and it is apparently a sufficient trade off for their lives.

The bright light is focused on these losers in an effort to answer the unanswerable question (WHAT COULD WE HAVE DONE TO PREVENT THIS?)

Sad that in this day and age, 15 minutes of infamy is more then enough to provide these former nobodies all the evidence they need to believe that they have made their mark and will go down in history.

Apparently no one these days sees the forest through the trees.  The outlook for mankind as a whole is not the brightest in my opinion.

Is anyone else sick to death of this shit?  There is no end in sight.  Its really all a bit of a self fulfilling prophecy if you ask me.  Kind of a psycho salad.

Image

People Say You’re A Loser


I don’t know what to write about today.  There are so many stories for me to tell but the problem is I don’t feel like I can be honest  without getting myself in all kinds of  hot water.  There’s no way I can lie.  Fuck that.  If I can’t keep it real then what is the point?  Credibility is important right?  Ha ha ha ha that is funny because there is no chance that I have any credibility to begin with.  If I don’t have any, then why is credibility such an important ideal to me?  Well, I’m not going to say that I’ve been a juggernaut of reliability in any sense of the word but I still have personal credibility.  A long winded way of saying that I’ve decided to start writing about events that are at least one year old.  That way I can be honest and sincere in telling you about my heinous adventures in self degradation without offending too many people.

Let’s try it out today and see how it goes.