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

 

 

 

Today’s Run Was Hell


Sometimes I eat up the miles so fast it is unbelievable. My feet glide along the pavement like wings on a ghost.  Its times like this that make me feel like a god amongst men.  Late at night….really late at night….the cops look befuddled as I glide on by.  Confused but only for a mile after that I can sense their smiles.

I am a runner and today was Africa Elsinore and it was brutal.  I survived.

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.

Man, GetYour Dog’s Ass Out Of That Other Dog’s Nose


Sitting here with Johnny Anonymous my longtime friend from Crown Town, taking in the sights and sounds of picturesque Temecula, California on a Thursday night in February of 2016.  I went running this morning after staying up all night long working on my painting, setting up sexual rendezvous via craigslist.com, working on some photoshop shit, and thinking about life I guess.  All night long I meant to go running and all night long I found myself doing one thing after another that kept me from walking out the door of my room at the Best Western and into the mean streets.  I really did mean to go in the middle of the night too because I love running at night especially down Winchester to where it dead ends in the wilderness.  I have a sharp knife that I wear around my neck in case I come across a wild wolf, a pack of coyotes or some homicidal homeless cracked out motherfuckers.  The knife is called a CRKT Minimimalist  and if you are in the market for a stealth knife that can do some serious damage and will slice a dude’s arm all up if you need to defend yourself from attack, then by all means I heartily recommend investing the $39.99 plus tax and getting yourself one.   Okay, back to me, and my story about me and my running plans.  So finally at 7:30 a.m. I decided that enough time had passed  waiting for anonymous sex with anonymous strangers that never show up, going overboard with the black paint pen on my junkie angel painting and other assorted  miscellaneous wheel spinnage opportunities such as checking out worldstarhiphop’s vine comp collection so I finally slipped on my black nike running shoes and my tight nike running pants  got my headphones on tuned my youtube music into a little Selena Gomez that wunderkind goddess, pulled up the runtastic app on my samsung cell phone pushed play, started activity and ran straight from  my room turned right on Jefferson and headed into my personal record book.  That’s right I said record book.  I ran exactly five miles in 40: 50 which may not sound like much to you but it is out of this world to me.  That’s a pace of 8:10 per mile for five fucking miles straight.  I can tell you right now that I have never run that fast of a time for five miles in my life.  Remember that I just started running October 6th.  I just took a look at the times I was doing for five mile runs back then and they are a joke.  I’m talking about 12:00 + miles pretty much.  That’s an hour for five miles.  Since then in a little over four months I have managed to cut 4 minutes PER MILE off of my time.  I know it’s nothing that special compared to the rest of humanity but it seems really dramatic to me for some reason.

Who cares right?  I mean really…bitch

 

Nobody gives a fuck about my running time today.  That makes me a little bit sad.  I don’t think that anybody truly gives a fuck about anybody else.  You know what, inxnay that last.  That’s purely bullshit and I knew it before I wrote it.

Just had an impromptu one man concert for a one man audience, my longtime friend and occasional business comrade, Mr. Johnny Anonymous.  I was trying to cheer him up you see.  He has been down in the doldrums for quite some time now.  He is a sensitive guy and has too much heart for this cruel and twisted world that we live in.  What better music than Paranoid Android to be playing decadently in the air like small golden air nymphs fluttering in the night, swirling in and out of my brain and ears and eyes with the haunting melody sure to be the soundtrack of eternity and

wow….

I just got off on a tangent in my head the past hour while I typed not even one word.  Some hip hop band is staying in the room next to me here at the Best Western and I have been playing songs in my room that I think I sound good singing in the hopes that they might need my services as a back ground singer or the one who does the hook or something whatever.  A fluffer even….hahahah nah not that.  These dudes are black and big and I’m not about to be the fluffer but anyways right now I am listening to C-Bank “One More Shot” which was one of my favorite songs back in the good old days 30 years ago. That’s the last song in the series I just got down with even after Johnny left.  Lyrics Born doing Callin’ Out and I copied the lyrics to a word document so I could sing every word.  It sounded cool as fuck.  Also did “Some LA Niggaz” the bad ass jam by Dr. Dre Xzibit and others.  So fucking sick.  Also Common “The Light” just got played again.  I still love that song even though I don’t know a girl it could ever apply to because romance is dead in my life. Queen I ain’t seen you in a minute…..more like Queen I ain’t ever seen you in my life….I would rather get the aggression out by screaming every word of Hit Em Up by Tupak.  I love that song too just because of the huge diss factor and its so brave it seems and prophetic as all hell.

Y’all niggaz ain’t even on my level….

Laughing.  Kidding.  Don’t get all sad.

I’ve been sitting here waiting for this drama queen who wants to confront me in person about calling her dumb ass out on my blog but she is fucking lagging so hard that I am getting impatient.

First off, fuck your bitch and the click you claim
Westside when we ride come equipped with game
You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boy niggaz fucked for life

What a luxurious ride this life really is for me.  I must admit that any time I want to bitch about my life that I deserve to be bitch slapped because I am really lucky to be able to enjoy as much of my existence that I actually do.  I haven’t had a job in a long fucking time.  Not that I don’t want one but it just seems like so much of an ordeal to go through that for now I just can’t seem to see the forest through the trees, the light at the end off the tunnel etc etc.

Anybody that tuned into this post to actually read something interesting is going to be pretty disappointed I suppose.  I wish I could tell you guys some stories of what has been going on in my life but I feel like I would be incriminating somebody in something so I am going to err on the side of caution and just shut the fuck up.

floating in reverse


that sounded good to me (the title of this) because that is what it feels like i am doing.  not heading backwards at breakneck speed on a collision course with death.  not even.  more like a leisurely balloon ride to the land of permanent mediocrity.  just hustling up the cash to survive on a daily basis, never getting up too much and never getting so desperate that i feel like i need to do something stupid.  its not really that bad if you don’t mind going nowhere overall in fact overall going backwards just a little bit at a time.  still fighting though.  one area that i have been kicking ass is seems to be my running.  i started running or jogging or whatever you want to call it a couple of months ago.  lets set the record straight by saying that i have liked running for a long time and there have been lots of different periods in my life where i have taken up running.  somehow though i always end up stopping doing it for some reason.  well the reason is that i stop caring.  its a word called apathy.  i hate that apathy concept.  but anyways this time even as a homeless vagrant hotel dwelling guy, i have still been running nearly every day since october 11th, 2015.  and i have really improved greatly its really fucking cool.  now i can run 6 miles in less than 54 minutes.  i have also done 10 miles in less than 100 minutes.  both times are quite significant to me.  right now my goal is to get 5 miles in 40 minutes but i don’t think i will get even close to that anytime soon.  it is hard enough to get 5 miles in 45 minutes.  the 8 minute per mile pace is fucking hard.  i love running though.  i really do.  its so insanely cool.  especially late late at night like at 3 a.m.  its spooky at that time.  i run in temecula alot and if you cruise down winchester from jefferson to where it dead ends its really spooky and desolate.  its easy to imagine wolves or bears or mountain lions waiting out there wanting to kill me or serial killer bums waiting to rape me then kill me.  so far i have been okay but who knows what the future holds.  the last time i went running was at midnight last night (boxing day 2015).  i did 6 miles in 53:47.  i was tired yet elated like usual.  it makes you feel superior to others.  also it makes you feel like every day you run you are adding two days to the end of your life.  i think that is really cool formula since i am an older man now i want to extend out my boring life as long as possible.  there is a pretty cool app on my phone called runtastic that basically gps tracks you on your runs and gives you all kinds of statistics and shit while you are running and then compiles it all for you so you can see the progression of your runs and see how bad ass you are.  all this talk about running is getting me pumped up to go running right now so fuck it i am going to go running and shit.

If not now, when?


After a little bit of goading from people who care about me I have come to the conclusion that it is time to start selling my paintings.  I have held out due to a number of different reasons but they are mostly based on ego and my incorrect estimation of my own self importance.

Being homeless for well over a year now is not something to be proud of and although it may seem to be some kind of a romantic notion, actually being a starving artist is pretty fucking lame.  For one thing I’m not even painting.  I have no place to paint so what the fuck?

yeah….i’m over it.  this is not only affecting me but i have children.  audrey is not able to spend the night with me most nights because i don’t have any place to go.  my license is suspended over a payment of a few hundred dollars in child support and the rest of my life is in a similar state of stagnancy.

I do have quite a few paintings that are complete or very nearly complete and although I really wanted to have a gallery showing and make a splash entering the art scene I think it is time to get over that notion and just sell what I have so I can get my dependents a place to call home.

so without further ado…..

If you want more information about these paintings let me know.  You can send me an email at tonymandichsan@gmail.com or you can call me directly at 657-210-7113.

If you are looking for a cheap painting this isn’t the place to look.  I’ve got thousands of hours tied up in these paintings and I will die before I just give them away for ridiculous prices.  Sorry.

 

An Early Christmas Present Part I


I have to give credit where credit is due.  Just in case anybody reading my blog thought I was a cop hater after my post about that crazy lady cop Lisa Mearkle who shot and killed the dude in the snow, this article should dispel that notion.  The events in question took place less than 24 hours ago and were witnessed by Christina Joy and myself.

So….

First of all I have to come clean and admit that my driver’s license is currently suspended because I have a past due balance with the Department of Child Support Services in Orange County, California.  They never really thought this idea out very well.  In my opinion, suspending the license to drive of people you would presumably like to have out there working, in order to earn the money needed to pay the money they owe you, seems counterproductive but we all know that my opinion doesn’t mean shit so I will just shut the hell up.

Anyhow, I have to get around somehow and I admit that I drive my car with just my California Identification Card in my wallet.  I don’t know what else to do since I don’t have enough money to pay off the child support and get my license reinstated.  I’m not employed and its pretty rare that I get enough money together to make a sizable dent in any of the various past due balances that haunt my life.  At this point any money I get is never enough so I find myself trying to parlay hundreds into thousands, often by gambling at the local casinos except for Pechanga and Harrahs, and everybody knows that the end result of that is usually daily bankruptcy.

I’m not trying to make excuses for the crappy facts that define my existence presently, I’m just giving you some background information so you can get a better understanding of what is going on in this little tale.

Getting back to the events of December 11th now okay.  And we are stipulating that Anthony doesn’t have a current valid driver’s license with the caveat that before January 1st, the situation will be rectified.  It is now priority number one.  Also with the understanding that I don’t feel particularly bad about having driven with the suspended license since it is not due to any action taken behind the wheel, no moving violation or reckless driving but simply an inability to stay current on child support payments four years ago for my daughter who is now 18 years old.

Let’s pick up the story with Anthony and Christina about 2:00 p.m. on Friday the 11th of December, 2015.  We left Pala Casino and headed north on Pala-Temecula Road, a route I had driven literally hundreds of times from Temecula.  It is the only way to get to a slew of casinos located deep in the  wilderness to the south of Temecula and to the east of the 15 freeway including Pala, Valley View, Harrahs, and Pauma unless you want to drive a bunch of extra miles on the freeway and then you still have to drive east for miles.  Taking the Pala-Temecula Road is like driving as the crow flies and for most in the know, its the only way to get there.

Well apparently it is the route chosen by drug dealers as well as casino rats like me.  That’s what the Federal Border Patrol Agent who put me in handcuffs while a K-9 police dog sniffed inside and outside of my car for drugs told me anyway.

Stay tuned for Part II

 

Prologue to: My Friend Jim Waataja


James Anthony And Anthony

My Friend Jim Waataja

I really like this guy named Jim I said to myself back in 1996 when I went with this lady named Heather Batchelder to his warehouse headquarters for Slave Snowboards right there off the 55 and Dyer in Santa Ana. I was this sort of metrosexual wanna be cool guy living in Newport Beach like a fag dude listening to Soundgarden and shit and basically I had lost my way in life a bit to be honest. Anyways I met Jim because Heather who was this chick I was all enamored with at the time wanted to go there to get some weed off Jim because Jim had the best weed. I don’t give that much of a rat’s ass about weed but I wanted to touch Heather’s pussy with my tongue so any time I could hang out with her I did. She made it clear that I was a dork for the most part and she just kinda tolerated me because I had a convertible BMW and I was pretty hot and I think she knew that I was pretty bad ass really but I was just a bit of a slutty boy. She called me a fucking Newport whore were her exact words and I remember I wrote a song about it too. Something like “in her room you’re on the floor you fucking little Newport whore”….that shit was funny. Anyways we went to that warehouse where Jim had some crazy ass fools hanging around him. Specifically Rene “Stick Dog” Prospero who is to this very day one of the goofiest motherfuckers I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Stick Dog was an awesome naturally gifted athlete. Things like skateboarding and surfing and snowboarding he completely shredded without even trying. It made me pretty sick. He was just a kid like 19 and full of pimples and shit and he had this punk rock girlfriend named Tara who was and is so sexually hot as fuck . She was really good friends with Heather and they would often get completely wasted on Jack Daniels together. Anyways also living or squatting or something at the warehouse was Richie Schmidt. Richie is famous to me for a couple of things…one is that he got kicked in the jaw by Gianni Cass and it like totally fucked his jaw up. The second thing is that he had a huge cock apparently. Richie is a cool guy but a moron at the same time. We can’t forget about Brian Mank who was Jimmy’s right hand man and a skinny oddly shaped alien like being with a massive forehead but a kind heart. Who else was there?   I’m thinking maybe Chris Franz a goofy kid at the time but a very responsible sober person these days and maybe some other people like Dirt Doug and Rob the Electrician. All these fools just creepy crawling around a dark strangely decorated weed smelling warehouse in Santa Ana. I didn’t talk much to Jim that time but I remember him being some sort of Asian but also like cool at the same time with old ass levi’s, black skate shoes like es or emerica and a wife beater with a joint always in his hand and a full head of swarthy dog black hair and a little weppy goatee. I don’t know exactly why we started hanging out but it was really cool that we did. Jim was a partner in this cool skateboard clothing company called TSA. The other partner was a guy name Mac which is really short for Miguel Angel Cabada. Now he is called Angel and has been ever since he got out of prison for running this dude over in Huntington Beach this one time and then ditching his Range Rover which according to the authorities showed consciousness of guilt. Anyways Jim was running Slave Snowboards and trying to really get that going while at the same time handling all the production for TSA and I was between jobs I think or something anyways I ended up getting a job at TSA as the accounting manager which was fucking awesome.   Okay so that’s Chapter 1 of My friend Jim Waataja also known as lip lip boy. I’m writing this because he was found to be cancer free today so I’m very happy to start our memoirs.