I’m about to play a No Limit Omaha Hi-Lo tournament on Pokerstars and I just checked my Facebook Account quickly. The first thing I noticed was that my buddy Chris Gultch (Death Mickies) posted the following link on my wall.:
You follow that link and it takes you to some chicks Myspace account and this fucked up music. Slow Jamz is her name from Massachusetts or something. The song is like some soupy love song where the dude is saying “I wanna know what turns on”.
By the way in the poker tournament I called a FIVE WAY all in preflop with KKJJ and flopped trip Jacks and took down $7,500 on my first hand. Moved me up to 6/6009 players.
I got a feeling that tonight’s gonna be a good night. Do you ever just wake up in a good mood and kinda know that whatever you get up to that day its gonna be all good? I got that feeling today. I slept for hours upon hours. Ya see I’ve been on a crazy painting streak for days basically sleeping only when I fall asleep from exhaustion and waking up and painting again. Last night, or really this morning about 4:30 a.m. I took a super hot bath that drained the last remaining vestiges of energy from my body and I got out threw on my calvin kleins and hopped in my bed with the dogs and didn’t even stir until 3pm. It was fucking great.
I took my bed out of my room because there is NO ROOM for it anymore with all of my paintings and shit all over the place. We have like a living room type situation upstairs and I just put it out there. The only sorta fucked up thing about it being out there is Woody and Snickers refuse to get out of it. I mean I can physically maim them to get them out but as soon as I go back into my painting studio the fucking dogs are right back in there. And these dogs are not content to just lay on top of the bed down below where “Master’s” feet go like a couple of good dogs would do. Since they are not good dogs they feel it imperative to lay on top of my pillows (Snickers) or underneath the blankets (Woody). I personally don’t feel like this is correct behavior for these dogs but they are unruly delinquent beasts and I can’t tell them what to do it seems.
Oh well, my mom’s gonna be home soon like in four days or something. She’s on vacation in the Cayman Islands and when she gets back she can pack up her mutts and take them back to Palm Desert where she lives in some Country Club place on the golf course. Let them run amok at her house and good riddance. I did film about 12 bad ass videos of them while they were here visiting. Funny as hell ones. Making them howl at the moon, getting Snickers to butt ram Woody, locking them in Doggy Jail and seeing if they can get out, putting them out in the front and leaving the screen door shut but the front door open until they incessantly would jump and scratch on the screen door while I ignored them, cooking food and getting them all pumped up like they are going to get some then telling them to eat my balls they ain’t getting shit and filming their sad, confused, disturbed reactions hahahahahaha. Watching Snickers empty all the trash cans everywhere and chew up everything until the house looks like a dump and then film Snickers get just screamed at by my Uncle Gordon. All sorts of tasty visual treats that I may or may not share with my adoring public at some point.
Okay well I’m listening to some Notorious B.I.G. Life after Death Disc 1 which is so bad ass. I’m gonna paint for a bit then maybe go play some poker with Darin “Dazzzzza” Byrne, a friend of mine who is a d.j. at Captain Creme’s Gentlemen’s Club in Lake Forest. I’ll let you know how the night turns out.
By the way, I got an unbelievable response to my post about Billy Wedgeworth and my sister Natalie Amador and the whole Suicide in Jail issue. I mean like 150 more hits then I normally get on my blog which is like maybe 80 per day. So thanks for that support everyone.
You should know my stilo, went from 10gs for blow to 30g’s a show to orgies with whores I’ve never seen before so Jeeeeeesus get off the notorious PEEEEEEEEEEEEEnis before I squeeze and bust if the beef between us we can settle it with the chrome and metal shit…….
Shouldn’t it be “Man hung self” ? The OCR title just doesn’t sound right. Either way, um…shouldn’t Newport Beach PD perhaps begin to instill a new regime of perhaps checking on their arrestees more often so people don’t do this? Whether or not people are suicidal perhaps taking away whatever it is they are using to hang themselves with may be a good idea. I’m just sayin.
This guy looks like he was a pretty well-rounded “jurk.” In OC alone he was convicted of two felonies for fighting and spousal abuse, along with numerous traffic and other violations (even a misdemeanor for not properly restraining his dog). I apologize if this isn’t the same guy, but it looks like he may have done us all a big favor.
MY THOUGHTS ON SUICIDES IN JAILS
1ANGELSFAN: In my opinion it should be “Man hung himself In Newport Beach Jail.” You are correct, that title just looks awkward, even if it is proper grammar. As to the story itself, regardless of an inmates desire to take his/her life when incarcerated, I believe it is the duty of the Jail Staff, to make provisions to ensure that this “desire” is not carried out successfully. I speak from hard experience on this one as my sister, Natalie Ann Amador, took her own life in the exact same way on Valentine’s Day, 2009 in the Robert Presley Detention Center (Riverside County).
She was found dead in her cell at 12:20 p.m. on a Saturday in a brand new jail. I’m not here to do any ax grinding but just to point out something that I guess the personnel of jails everywhere just don’t seem to understand. Many studies have shown that the vast majority of inmate suicides have taken place during the first 72 hours after arrest. This is probably due to many factors and I don’t need to list all of them here. For my sister I think it was a combination of being super bummed she got arrested and was definitely facing some time along with being forced to come off of drugs in a way that must be shocking to a habitual users psyche.
The reasons why aren’t really as important to me as the need for Correctional Facilities to come to grips with the reality of this phenomenon and take proactive measures to ensure it doesn’t happen anymore. I knew Billy Wedgeworth and yes he did have issues but I’m not one to judge anyone for anything. His issues notwithstanding, he should still be alive. Dollars to donuts if he could somehow, someway, be given a choice whether or not to follow through with what I’m sure was an act of impulsive desperation say today for instance, I have serious doubts as to whether he would go through with it. I truly feel that the same can be said for the majority of these people (like my sister Natalie). I read one comment that summarized the situation quite adeptly…”a permanent solution to a temporary problem”.
I also read some other comments and the responses to them. It is nobody’s place to judge a person’s life except for God right? It seems especially ignorant to judge a persons life based upon an arrest record that is retrieved online via the Superior Court’s website and which contains zero details regarding whatever incident the person has been convicted of except for the date of the conviction and sentence administered. Common sense should tell you that you are not seeing the whole picture in that scenario. So to go on a public forum, armed with zero credible info and start badmouthing a person who just ended their life suddenly is both inappropriate and cruel. You do this, knowing full well that the deceased person has friends, relatives etc. that are going to be anxiously combing the internet, searching for information about their deceased loved one. More then likely, they are going to come across your poorly researched jibber jabber and your stupid thoughtlessness is going to do nothing but further inflame an already tense situation. Get a life man. You are no expert so shut the hell up. I’m just saying.
Really though, all of the above is just filler to be honest. The bottom line is that it doesn’t matter if the inmate is Satan’s Son, and really really wants to end his life. The police/jail has taken it upon themselves to take “custody” of the individual. That custody comes with responsibility in my opinion. A responsibility to provide a reasonable standard of care for the person while they are guests of the jail is not too much to ask is it? Some kind of mandatory extra precautionary period for at least the first few days of incarceration is appropriate. Given the myriad number of suicides that have taken place in jails all over the nation, especially in the first 72 hours after arrest, I believe that it should be mandatory. It should be part of the regular routine of adjusting and acclimating oneself to the conditions they are going to have to endure while in custody. If this procedure saves even one persons life, then its worth and is also not too much to ask.
I love my sister and I know many people loved Billy and thats with her flaws and thats with his flaws. We would rather them be alive if it could be at all helped. I think it can. Please encourage this to be more of a priority in the future somehow. Thank you.
So Polly gets in the car….I haven’t seen her in 14 years or some shit so its kind of strange to be back at her house once again in Huntington Beach, California picking her up. Kind of strange? How about fucking really strange. Think about it, this chick is married (for the second time actually I found out later) and lives in another state. The only reason we are in contact at all is because I randomly saw the facebook account of her SISTER on one of my buddy’s wives facebook accounts and only in passing. I’m such a scatter brain that to have it hit me again at some point days later,and have the “could give afuckitis” strong enough to actually take th e time to find the sisters account again and scan through it until I found hers and to even bother looking at her scant pictures (maybe like 10 total) AND to find one that actually interested me enough to send her a message saying so, thus breaking the long frozen communication cube (doesn’t make sense sorry) and getting the ball rolling on this current “hey what’s up friend” status we have going on at the minute…..well let’s just say thats like one in a million. There’s even more going against the chances of us ever talking to each other again then that but I won’t even go into that shit let’s just leave it at that. All of these thoughts flew into and out of my head in about a second as I let her into the car.
I mean fuck. I’m no emo kid. Who gives a rat’s ass why she was in the car and what the chances of that happening could have been accurately predicted at before she got in? I sure didn’t. All I knew was that it was still pretty early for poker on a Friday night and I was being bought in by some chick that wanted to get fucked up and my buy in was the price for her being able to be in my magnificent and handsome presence. One track mind for sure. And its one track was definitely not “I want to fuck my Ex Girlfriend” . Who cares about that. I can fuck chicks whenever I want to be actually honest so I wasn’t about to get all stoked on the chance of boning some chick I used to bone day after day a century ago! Nah, my one track mind was all POKER POKER POKER.
Still though I had to get her to the casino, still in a relatively good mood and whatnot or I could kiss my buy in money good buy! Pun intended. Gay pun at that. So I went on the offensive, peppering her with questions that led directly from her answers, never really giving her a chance to catch her breath really, until we were walking into the casino towards the bar first (Jager Bomb for me-terribly prepared by the bartender and a big Two Thumbs down to that moron and a Corona for her on her). After I got my warmish drink down I sorta waited her out until we were at the ATM and she pulled out some cash, gave me a hundy and said “see ya later” and went back to the bar. Five minutes later I was doubling up the fifty bucks that I bought in with, putting the other fifty dollar bill in my wallet as a definite souvenir to take home commemorating the Polly and Tony big reunion episode.
The hand I doubled up with went down like this. I was in the big blind with pocket 8’s with one caller in front of me. (Blinds are 1 and 2 respectively). I raised it to like 11 and he quickly called.
It was definitely a Jack though. Again he checked in front of me but this time something told me he was trying to do a trappy type check, feigning like that turn didn’t help him in any way. He’s a bad player though, and it was kind of obvious that he had a jack to me. Praying that he did, I “took the bait” and let him “trap me”. I bet 20 which he raised to 40 which put me all in. I pretended to think about it for a second but didn’t even want the rest of the table to get a glimpse of my Hollywood Acting Job just yet so I quickly just smiled and turned over my flopped set of 8’s and of course by that time he was drawing DEAD. Even another Jack on the River which would give him trips would give me a boat and he was pretty pissed off about losing that hand. He fully thought that he had conned me into calling with an inferior hand to his like Jack King or some shit. Which really, if your poker game is all about “trapping” with top pair top kicker hands, then you are probably not only a losing player you are also usually the one getting trapped. Anyways his shit Ace Jack hand was fucking dominated and he gathered the rest of his chips and hit the highway. Too bad. I would have loved to take all of his chips.
Morale has been boosted at Camp Mandich due to the increase in audience size for this gripping series of true life tales from my sordid past . We swelled from 6 to 7 members. I’ve never been one to shy away from my member swelling so….
Flashback to 2010 for a minute, even though there are many tales to tell about the good old days. We will start introducing new new adventures and new characters as the story begins to unfold. At the same time its necessary to keep my clan updated about whats going on here and now and shit. So…..
It’s Friday at Midnight and I’ve somehow managed to con Polly into not only going to the Hustler Casino with me but also into paying for me to gamble. That is true talent. There was absolutely nothing to it either. She wanted to see me, and she was bored at home, and she was already pretty smashed and there are all the reasons right there. I simply mentioned the existence of the casino and the fact that I found myself a little short on funds (no explanation given or asked for) and asked her if she had any money to which she replied, “I have lots of money, always”. Coombaya my Lord, I thought. This is great. Polly was an underbankrolled poker players dream I tell you. I’m just talking about the money part of it really and also the fact that she agreed to provide the money with no argument, convincing, or sales tactics of any kind necessary. I got to her house and she was waiting outside as promised.
I had my earphones in listening to some Rancid when I pulled up to her house after blindly passing it and her up the first time and being forced to turn around. I seem to be permanently preoccupied with other thoughts these days and my head is never really in the moment which is a sad thing in a way. Polly popped herself into her seat and the first thing I looked at as she was getting in was the size of her ass because in one of her earlier emails to me when she was pissy about me not coming out the night before she had told me to kiss her plump ass. I was hoping it wasn’t plump because that would be a real shame. Polly had always had just a beautiful little ass and I used to really enjoy all sorts of activities that revolved around it. I was somewhat relieved to see that it hadn’t grown disproportionately. In fact, she looked really good which is also a relief as I don’t want any of my exes to be looking all hideous then me ever have to admit that I went out with them and someone who just met them for the first time says something like, “Dude, you went out with her?”. And me have to be all embarrassed and feeling the need to justify what obviously must have been a charity mission on my part or somehow have to convince the guy that, “Dude, she was fucking hot when I went out with her”. And then finally, to be forced to bear his look that says loudly and clearly, “Uh huh……huh”.
We discussed many many things during the time it took me to drive the 24 miles between Polly’s dad Harry’s house in Huntington Beach and the Hustler Casino, which is located off of the 110 Freeway at Redondo Beach Blvd, in the lovely city of Gardena. I will discuss those “many many things” in my next installment of “Anthony Mandich, The People’s Choice”.
I want to dedicate this installment of “My New Adventures by Anthony Mandich” to the 6 (six) people who so avidly read the first installment. It’s really heartwarming to know that I am positively affecting the lives of so many people.
I snuck out of the house, it was about a quarter to midnight when I finally got away. I didn’t really want to wake up my Uncle Gordon, the old codger that lives here. I’m not sure why I call him Uncle since he and I are not related in any way except blood. He is my lovely mother, Heather’s brother. I don’t wanna get into Uncle G for now but just understand that there would have been words between us if he woke up while I was in the process of taking my mom’s car at midnight. So I got away and headed to Huntington Beach. I had my Sprint Palm Pixie all dialed in with the address to Polly’s house so I was sweet. Except for the fact that I was fucking tired and certainly was not looking my handsome best, I was still reasonably confident that good times were in store for me.
I hadn’t seen Polly in about 13 years or so. She used to be my girlfriend. When I lived in Newport Shores and the Fun Zone, she was my bitch. I met her years ago at this bar in Costa Mesa called the Lava Room. I had gone there with my friend Justin Doyle, a resident of Australia (Melbourne) who I had met years prior in Hawaii where I was vacationing with my chick at that time, Elke. So anyways, Justin came back down to California and was staying with me at my house on 37th and Seashore in Newport. He slept on the floor of my room some nights. Alot of times though he had to sleep on the living room floor which must have been a living hell for him because we had some fucked up roommates and they were dirty, loud, drunken louts. The two couches in the living room were already being taken up by some fuckheads from New Jersey if I remember correctly. The people out there didn’t go to bed ever or so it seemed and I’m sure Justin would have been pretty miserable those 3 or 4 nights a week when I was busy getting busy with sluts I pulled from Cassidy’s or Mutt Lynch’s or the Stag Bar.
Getting laid that year was like fishing in a barrel for me. I lived two houses from the sand in Newport Beach, which meant that the out of towner hoes didn’t have to get in their Jettas or Cabriolets and drive anywhere to hook up so it was just fucking extremely easy to get them to come back to my house after a night of playing pool and getting wasted at Cassidy’s. Basically I would just say “let’s walk over to my house” once they called Last Call and nine out of ten times that was a big 10-4 Good Buddy.
I mean really and truly, living anywhere in the vicinity of say 45th Street to the Pier in Newport gave guys a distinct advantage when it comes to pussy just for the convenience factor for all parties involved. My roommates were always amenable to me bringing bitches back to the house so I always brought bitches back to the house. That was my role in our clan of hunter/gatherers. Tony Mandich-Bitch Magnet.
Just kidding of course. (about the bitch magnet).
All kidding aside the bottom line is that Justin couldn’t have been all that excited when I met Polly at the Lava Room. For starters Polly was fucking hot hot hot hot hot and only 19 at the time. She lived in Huntington Beach off of Newland somewhere and Justin got a sense that his little slice of heaven on my floor was slipping away from him, when for one of the first times that I can remember, I didn’t even try and get her to come to my house. I don’t even remember kissing her that night. I do remember wanting her to be naked and perched on my face for a couple of days but I kept those wants inside my head. I simply obtained her phone number and gave her a little hug before Justin and I took off back to my house.
This tale begins with me going to Huntington Beach at the stroke of midnight last night to pick up an old “friend”. I’m not sure how this person’s husband would react to this tale so I’m going to leave her identity a secret unless she does something to piss me off.
The first bad thing I did was take my mom’s car. It’s a minivan a Ford Something. It’s relatively new and comfortable to drive and definitely does not attract unwanted attention from our friends in the Law Enforcement Community.
My step dad left a set of keys to this luxury vehicle in his Hyundai when he and my mother departed for the Grand Cayman Islands a couple of weeks ago. I’m allowed to drive the Hyundai but its a beater. It has no tinted windows and I’m less certain about this car and its ability to fend off the attention of law enforcement.
The reason I went to Huntington Beach to begin with is because this friend (lets call her Dolly) was pretty desperate to see me I guess, and agreed that I should be able to go play poker at Larry Flynt’s fabulous poker room in Gardena, the world famous Hustler Casino. Since I had no money of my own with which to play, Dolly graciously agreed to sponsor me, with the understanding of course, that should I win (a near certainty according to me), she wanted her money back plus half of the winnings.
That’s the exact word that was flowing through my brain. Whatever. Here was a chance for action, the chance to make some much needed money. There was no risk for me other then the risk we human beings take every time we leave the house. I mean anything can happen anytime right? So needless to say, even though I barely slept the night before because I was working diligently on my new video, Nouvelle Vague-Dance With Me (which can be seen by pasting this link in your browser’s address bar, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Y96WH6cuWk ) , I was more then keen to go pick up Dolly and make my way to the Hustler Casino.
I quickly decided to take my mother’s car and being the good son that I am, I dutifully posted a message informing her of my intentions on her Facebook wall. (Yes, my mother Heather Davies, does indeed have a Facebook account which she uses on a daily basis). I was very shadowy and vague about why I needed to use her car, rather then Chip’s Hyundai. I think I muttered (can one mutter while typing?) something about not trusting the Hyundai for longer trips and that I needed to drive “down by the beach”.
Dolly was already quite intoxicated as evidenced by her slurred messages to me on Facebook (again is it possible to slur one’s words while typing?) and I was never the hugest fan of Dolly the Lush. So there was that. She was goading me into hurrying “the fuck up” and other assorted choice appeals for me to get my ass in gear. I was in no hurry however, as I had quite a few unfinished conversations to wrap up on Facebook, a couple of projects pending on Photoshop, and a myriad of other concerns that needed to be addressed. Plus, I knew Dolly did not have a car, was wasted and would go out no matter what time I made it to her.
I will continue this tale on my next post. This could turn out to be a tale that needs to be told over a period of several posts in fact. Until next time….
I went to sleep this morning waiting for my video to upload on to YouTube. I awoke to find an invitiation to submit my video “A Fantastic Journey through the Nazi Regime” to a special project where it will be shown at the Guggenheim. That’s pretty crazy huh. I doubt if it will be selected, I mean I’m not that good but still I submitted it anyway. Here is the statement I included with my submittal:
My name is Anthony Mandich and I am an artist living currently in California. Despots and oppression weigh heavily upon my heart and my art often takes me places which reflect this. The intention of my video is to reveal the corruption and decadence inherent to the Nazi Party in the 1930’s and 1940’s, to be a voice for fellow artists who are no longer with us such as Lin Zhao and Delara Darabi and to show my undying admiration for the late (and enchanting) Marilyn Monroe. My video is a pan and zoom collection of over a hundred pieces depicting these themes set to some instrumental and very cool music by the band Air. I would love to share my video and my art with you at the Guggenheim and with people everywhere who have a conscience and need a voice to speak against social injustice and despotism. It is my intention to change the world’s attitude one piece at a time and to keep the memory of those that have suffered for their craft alive forever. Thank you very much.
One of the Heathers just showed up at my house to bring me some food. I’m fucking very incredible insanely hungry actually. She brought me chicken and whopper junior which is pretty incredible in every sense of the word. I’ve got my Merry Christmas hat on right now. It’s really silly looking but my hair is even sillier to be honest. You see I painted all night long and took a bath at six a.m. and went to bed with fully wet hair. And my hair just looks like George Washington meets Ben Franklin meets your ass. So yeah, my velvet Merry Christmas hat is paying dividends.
I was outside painting earlier and these two ladies were riding their bikes past my house. Which was no big deal I only noticed them out of the corner of my eye. I noticed that they slowed down and that they sorta ceased talking. No big deal I didn’t even give it a second thought. Until they rode by again. And again. And Again. and again. I don’t know what the hell that was all about to be honest, they could just have been two really sorta boring people that can only ride around the block and never venture anywhere else which would be weird. Or they could have been scoping my hot ass which is pretty unlikely or they could have been watching me do my painting. I really don’t know the answer. So I’m dropping this topic of discussion.
Lemme eat my food and get back to ya.
okay i am still eating. i am explaining blogs to heather so i’m gonna publish this shithole of a post so she can see how it works.
These are some of my Favorite Quotes. Notice that they are all MY quotes. That speaks volumes in and of itself right there. Wow, I am really self absorbed in a cuddly sorta way.
“To be completely honest,……”
2. “Shut the fuck up man, Jesus, I’m so sick of listening to your babble.”
3. “Whatever dog lips.”
4. “They can fuck off”
5. “Yeah but who’s bad ass.”
…6. “Really, you think you can beat me heads up?”
8. “I know I’m a bad kid but I’m trying to behave.”
9. “Who wants to suck me?”
10. “I’m all in.”
11. “Send it jackass. How did that feel?”
13. “Why are you even with that BITCH?”
14. “You are the most pussy whipped little sissy.”
15. “Hi, honey….no…..I haven’t been at the casino.”
16. “I’m not even on drugs…..”
17. “Mom do you have any money?”
18. “Chip can I borrow twenty bucks?”
19. “Heeeeeeeyyyyyy…..whats up you sexy little mama?”
20. “Fuck….you are so fucking hot!!”
21. “We should make out..immediately.”
22. “Fuck him…aren’t you sick of that idiot yet? Come over!”
24. “Stick your tongue in my MOUTH!”
25. “You have the best ass.”
26. “Those panties are making me feel funny inside.”
27. “I don’t give a shit if you just got done running.”
28. “Fuck taking a shower first bitch.”
31. “I want cuddles….”
32. “My mom already knows dude. She thinks I’m just a jackass.”
34. “Let’s go to the casino tonight.”
35. “You are the worst fucking poker player I have ever ever seen.”
36. “What a moronic call. Fucking Jackass.”
37. “Whatever dick.”
38. “I hope you die. Let’s play heads up idiot.”
44. “My ringer was off.”
45. “I left my phone in the car.”
46. “I was in a business meeting had to turn it off.”
47. “I was on the other line long distance.”
48. “I didn’t get no voice mails.”
49. “I don’t have any missed calls.”
50. “You didn’t text me.”
51. “Whatever…fuck you.”
52. “No….you fuck off jackass.”
53. “You better have my cash fucker.”
54. “Hell no I don’t wanna play for I.O.U’s. Fuck that.”
55. “Dude I like chick music. Call me a fag I don’t care.”
56. “Oh, you really think your gonna get more chicks then me…”
58. “Grow some balls. I can’t believe you even give a shit about her.”
59. “You’re crying? Huh? Why would you even want to work it out with her? She’s a whore! She talks shit about you all over town. She fucked your best friend. She gave ME a blow job….just kidding man. No…dude….I’m just kidding…take it easy psycho. I wouldn’t let that skanky bitch touch my cock
60. “Doubt it.”
61. “Fuck that!”
62. “Why? Cuz I’m fucking hot that’s why. Why do you think? Just shut up!”
63. “You are so pissing me off right now.”
64. “God you are such a little baby.”
66. “Do I have to do it right this second?”
67. “I willlllllllllllll.”
68. “You’ll be sorry for that I guarantee it.”
69. “Watch and see”
72. “I don’t care about what other guys had to put up with. I’m not an “other guy”.”
88. “I didn’t make that mess.”
89. “I don’t even use the fucking microwave.”
90. “Why do I have to be held accountable for that?”
91. “Oh I am the slob is that it?”
92. “What do you mean I’m selfish?”
93. “I’m sorry okay. I will be a better kid I promise. I love you.”
95. “Who is itttttt? I’ll be right out I’m getting changed.”
96. “I’m not sleeping.”
97. “I don’t PAY for drugs. Are you crazy. People just give it to me.”
98. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t even touch your door let alone go in your room.”
99. “Do you have any money?”
100. “I’ll pay you back next week. I swear.”
Hello and a very happy and joyful Tuesday in July to all of my friends in Cyberspace. It’s Anthony Mandich here. I’m going to make this very short and pretty fucking sweet. I have alot of painting to do tonight plus I have to call the beautiful girl in Wellington, New Zealand, that responded to my ad on NZ Dating today. LOL. That’s a very inside joke, one that I cannot at this time share due to statute of limitationary gobbledygook.
I need to give big shout out to my dear Aunt, Auntie Michelle Manire. She recently celebrated a birthday, and she looked bloody fabulous in the pics that followed her night of cocktails, sweater vests and long walks with Andy Fowle, her significant other. So here’s to ya Auntie Michelle. From your loyal and nearly God like nephew Anthony Mandich. I hope you have a wonderful night tonight and every night for as long as nights exist.
What else? I went to lunch today with an old old friend of mine by the name of Eric Kisner. Kizzy. Kizzy was and is a cool motherfucker. When I was a punk rock severely delinquent sophomore at Corona Senior High School, Kizzy could always be found in flagrant violation of the High School Code of Ethics regarding the smoking of cigarettes in undesignated areas such as the lockers in between classes. At the end of every class I would venture over to where he kept his locker and politely request a couple of hits off his Marlboro Red. Although he was a rocker dude and didn’t normally associate with human mohawked scum like me, Eric Kisner always showed mercy and kindness to his fellow human beings and gave me a couple hits. I like that.
Today I went to visit Kizzy at his place of employment which happened to be right next to the Glen Eden “Sun Club”, which if you are from this area, you know is really a fucking horrible little spot where fat, old, haggard, yuck, gross, wrinkled, asexual, Cougars and Cougmen hang out in the buff, completely fucking disgustingly naked and proud of it. Gross. But anyways, yeah Eric was driving this big tractor thing and doing something to fix this trout pond his boss owns. Apparently the water keeps disappearing from the man made pond/lake/puddle and it is causing the trout to die. I was shown the rotting carcass of one of the trout and Holy Mary Mother of God, it was fucking big man. I guess they stocked this little lake with 1800 pounds of trout. I’m talking about an area no bigger then half of an Olympic Sized swimming pool. Crazy shit.
So yeah we went to lunch and it was fun and we talked about old times and called Steve Jacobson, my son, and purposefully did not wish him a Happy Birthday, which I could totally tell he was waiting for but it was more fun not to. Then we made plans to go play poker real soon and I split.
Then I entered Sean Stenlake’s world for about two hours. We played baseball (badly by me), I went for a run in the middle of this baseball shit because I was feeling so out of shape and horrible I figured a brisk run in the 108 degree heat was just what I needed to finish the job of my destruction. Somehow I survived the winds of hell and made it back to play a little more baseball. Then I showed Sean some of my art videos and then we had a very interesting conversation about his friend Adam who got busted six years ago for counterfeiting by the Secret Service and was given the option of Prison or the Navy for SIX years. Just like the old days I thought. Anyway he is going to be getting out of the Navy next month so good for him!
I think that’s gonna do it for today even though I have much more to tell you about including my very lengthy conversation with Sade from Houston who telecommutes from home in her capacity as a Technical Support Person for Sprint. I talked to her for like 3 hours this morning and it was actually very cool. Her husband is entering the NFL Draft next year and yeah she is a cool chick.
Luckily I have a very old and trusted friend and colleague, one Mr. Stephen Haproff who I have known for nearly my entire life who happens to be one of the Leaders of the Gay Community in the Greater New York Area.
He’s a distinguished gentleman, one hell of a Rare Rugs/Tapestries/Shrouds? Broker (I think), as well as an intelligent, classy, and I have to admit, handsome devil of a man.
We just had a chat via our Secured Com Line Link Up East Coast West Coast Style to discuss my upcoming bid to become the (Insert Political Party)an Candidate for the Presidency of the United States of America, “In God We Trust”, Epluribus unum, Veni Vidi Vici etc etc.
With the kind and generous approval of Mr. Haproff, Stephen I am going to post the contents of our chat, in order for the American Public to get a better understanding of the way a true American Hero’s thought processes work.
Without further ado, please welcome to the stage Mr. Anthony Mandich and Mr. Stephen Haproff:
And there you have it ladies and gentlemen. I certainly hope that you have enjoyed the first of several debates scheduled to be held over the course of the next year or so. Look for me, Anthony Mandich, Urban Werewolf, Friend to the Needy, Complete Vulgar Moron, and Miscellaneous Care Giver to Women the World Over to continue to express my views on “hard hitting”, “provocative”, “spellbinding” (just some of my past reviews) issues.
As the Next American President, I promise to just keep up the mediocrity I consider necessary to provide the motivation for other, less idiotic individuals to continue their fascinating lives as individuals.
Believe it or not, there is a hidden point in all of this. If you are an individual, not a sheep, then perhaps you may glean this hidden point, at some point.
TTTT I have not forgotten you. You are my beautiful Indonesian princess. I talk about you all the time. I cause much jealousy among the many women here in my homeland who are in love with me by discussing you and how sweet and beautiful I think you are. I’m sorry if I don’t always have time to give you all the love and attention that you deserve but if you were here in california I would make love to you every day! Wow I think perhaps I have lost my mind talking to you like this. I am crazy. Crazy but beautiful.
INTO THE ENGLISH TO INDONESIAN FREE TRANSLATOR
TTTT Aku tidak melupakanmu. Anda putri cantik Indonesia saya. Aku bicara tentang dirimu sepanjang waktu. Saya menikmati menyebabkan kecemburuan di antara banyak perempuan di tanah air saya yang sedang jatuh cinta dengan saya dengan menyebutkan Anda dan bagaimana manis dan lucu saya pikir Anda. Maaf kalau saya tidak selalu punya waktu untuk memberikan semua cinta dan perhatian yang Anda layak tetapi jika Anda berada di sini di california aku akan bercinta denganmu setiap hari! Wow Saya pikir mungkin saya telah kehilangan pikiran saya berbicara dengan Anda seperti ini. Aku gila. Gila tapi cantik
I NEED TO VERIFY THAT I AM SAYING THE RIGHT THINGS SO MY FREE TRANSLATION GOES INTO THE INDONESIAN TO ENGLISH FREE TRANSLATOR. THIS IS WHAT I GET: I’M LIKE WTF?
TTTT I have not forgotten. Your Indonesian beautiful daughter to me. I’m talking about you all the time. I enjoy the cause jealousy among many women in my homeland who are in love with me by saying you and how sweet and funny I think you are. Sorry if I do not always have time to give all the love and attention you deserve, but if you’re here in california I’ll make love to you every day! Wow I thought maybe I had lost my mind talking to you like this. I’m crazy. Crazy, but beautiful
NOW WHY DON’ T YOU PUT THIS INDONESIAN LOVE LETTER THAT I ENDED UP WITH AFTER MUCH BACK AND FORTH INTO THE OLD TRANSLATOR AND TELL ME WHAT I HAVE WRITTEN IN ENGLISH FOR THE FINAL PRODUCT:
TTT Aku tidak lupa. Anda pacar saya seksi Indonesia. Aku sedang berbicara tentang Anda sepanjang waktu. Aku menyebabkan banyak kecemburuan antara banyak perempuan di tanah air saya yang sedang jatuh cinta dengan saya. Alasannya adalah karena saya sering menyebutkan Anda ketika saya berbicara dengan mereka. Saya memastikan dan mengatakan pada mereka bahwa Anda berada di dalam indah dan keluar. Hal ini menyebabkan banyak kertak gigi dan menarik rambut. Gadis-gadis malang ini menangis karena aku menyebut namamu begitu sering. Saya tertawa ketika mereka menangis karena saya seorang anak laki-laki hahahahaha berarti dan juga karena mereka gila untuk berpikir mereka pernah dapat mengambil tempat Anda di TTTT hatiku. Maaf jika saya tidak selalu punya waktu untuk memberikan semua cinta dan perhatian yang Anda pantas, tetapi jika Anda berada di california Aku akan bercinta denganmu setiap hari! Anda seperti bunga lembut yang saya ingin membuka dan rasa. Ha ha pikiran sangat seksi Saya mengalami pagi ini ketika Anda memikirkan TTTTTTTTTT. Apakah Anda merasa lebih baik sekarang madu? Mari kita berharap begitu. LOVE LOVE LOVE Wow kupikir mungkin aku telah kehilangan pikiran saya berbicara dengan Anda seperti ini. Aku gila. Gila tapi cantik.
THIS IS ACTUALLY VERY CLOSE!!!!!!!!!
TIT I did not forget. You are my girlfriend Indonesian section. I’m talking about you all the time. I cause a lot of jealousy among many women in my homeland who are in love with me. The reason is that I often mention you when I talk to them. I make sure and tell them that you are in a beautiful and outgoing. This caused much gnashing of teeth and pulling of hair. These poor girls cry because I’m calling your name so often. I laugh when they cry because I was a boy hahahahaha means and also because they are crazy to think they can ever take your place in my heart YYYY. Sorry if I do not always have time to give all the love and attention you deserve, but if you are in california I’ll make love to you every day! You like the gentle flower that I want to open and taste. Ha ha very sexy thoughts I’m having this morning when you think TTTTTTTTTT. Are you feeling better today honey? Let’s hope so. LOVE LOVE LOVE Wow I thought maybe I had lost my mind talking to you like this. I’m crazy. Crazy but beautiful
So I just got back from putting up 3/6 big signs and 3/3 small signs for my Momma’s garage sale she is having tomorrow. I hope there is a big turnout and that she sells lots of useless items because I’m sure she needs some cash flow for her trip to the Cayman Islands which is coming up next Friday. Did I tell you all that my mother (bless her beautiful heart) has missed my birthday every single year since I was a pup because of her annual pilgrimage to 7 Mile Beach, Grand Cayman? Yep, the only two years that I was able to celebrate the momentous occasion of my birth with my mother were the two times I ventured out to Cayman myself. Pretty sad actually. Its not my mom’s fault. I certainly don’t begrudge her the three weeks she gets every year to unwind from all the stress that life has added to her life in the preceding year. Certainly, much of that stress has been specifically identifiable as stemming from me and my adventurous often tumultuous life. So like I said, I don’t begrudge her an annual three week respite from California and all of its pressures. This year is no different with the stress level, except perhaps I am not the sole cause of all of her furrowed brow and extra worry. Thank God for that. In fact, it might be said that my lovely mother is actually starting to have a little faith that I might turn out okay after all. Anyway, yeah I just got back from hanging those signs. I did a pretty shitty job all told, but damn it is stressful, the sheriff’s cars kept driving around, checking me out and I’m pretty sure its not exactly legal to be posting signs on people’s cars, house windows, horses and what not so I was in a bit of a quandary on where to place them. Also I didn’t really prepare myself adequately for the job. Suffice to say I’ll get an earful in the morning but oh well I’ll cross that bloody bridge when I jump off of it.
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.
What does he do? He was one of my very good friends, and I missed him when he left Trinidad
he putters like a putterer and he smokes crystal methamphetamines on a daily basis. nobody knows the terrible horrible shocking bewildering astonishing capitvating exciting delicious decadent twisted maniacal truth about the man they know as UNCLE G
i love how my statements often cause people to just disregard them entirely out of having nothing tangible to reply with so therefore they start talking about something else in an effort to change the subject. harden up man
by the way its damn. not dam. a dam is a structure employed to hold back water. damn is an expletive and has multiple meanings.
How can I do this to you right now if you’re over there when I need you here?
My happiness is slowly creeping back.
Now you’re at home, if it ever starts sinking in it must be when you pack up and go.
It seems an age since I’ve seen you. Count down as the weeks trickle into days.
I hope that time hasn’t changed you, all I really want is for you to stay.
if it ever starts sinking in it must be when you pack up and go.
I know I know I know what is inside
I am so frustrated lately it’s beyond belief. I know its because of being wrong and continuing to do things that I know are selfish and wrong but that also have such a firm grip on me. I spend much of my time on fruitless endeavors and in fact I have squandered so much of my soul, my time on the planet, the good feelings that others have held for me, and all of the resources that I have managed to come by in the past several years that it has now come to the point where I don’t think I can ever fully recover what has been lost. I know this for a fact actually who am I kidding goddammit. The truth is I am so fucking ANGRY at the world (myself) that usually I cannot make rational decisions. Much of my anger is gambling related. I just want to smash fucking everything because my luck is always horrible. I play games that are not meant to be beaten like slot machines and then I get so fucking angry when they unjustly steal my fucking money that I can’t see straight. I take this attitude, along with my broke-penniless-pitiful self, everywhere else I have to go on the planet. Of course pretty much everything else in my life is tainted and tainted horribly from that desperate, weak, stupid, bad, conniving, secretive, insincere, groveling, needy, begging, trail that follows any degenerate gambler around like a stormy, black cloud. My actions are inexplicable to myself let alone others and it is no wonder that people bail out of my world faster then shit. Everyone that has known me and been in interaction with me for any material amount of time is woefully tired of me and my shenanigans. I take and I take and I act as if its my birthright to keep on taking and yet when the time comes for me to give….I justify not giving in a lame attempt to convince myself that I need to have some kind of a bankroll to fall back on. In reality I can’t put two nickels together. Money burns intensely hot once it finds its way into my pockets. I have an urgent, in fact, critical need for money to pay things that have been on the back burner for so long that I can’t really remember the totality of what I need to spend. All I know is that it is a huge, huge mountain of unpaid debt and hard feelings and anger, both ways. It sits on my soul like cancer and I want so badly to get that big win just to get some pride and confidence back, pay some people off, do some nice things for people that have been so good to me with nothing in return for so fucking long. I’m talking about long suffering people who are desperately sick of me but have been cursed by the fact that they are family members and they love me. I feel so sorry about so many things and I have so many amends to make that it is inconceivable that I will ever get through them all. Not only that I am stubborn and resentful, full of pride and self pity both which is an oxymoron if ever you’ve seen one. I act really mysterious and fool people at the beginning with charm, looks, wit and a fair bit of natural intelligence and some talent, not a lot, but some, in quite a few different areas. I have more skeletons in my closet then 99% of the world’s population I’d have to say and its only through foolish denial that I manage to convince myself most days that I’m actually a good person, on the road to recovery. I fool nobody except myself and that is only a temporary fooling. Everyone else is on to my bullshit almost immediately and the perceptive man or woman, especially the one who is not afraid to call a spade a spade, will almost immediately begin noting my discrepancies and sooner rather then later they call me out on my shit and its more of the same for me. Nothing new in fact I’ve been experiencing it my whole life. I’m not really close to anyone. No one at all. Plenty of people find me interesting but it’s the kind of interest that people take in things like train wrecks and other natural disasters. I am the king of broken promises and the land I rule is one where the smell of shit is so intense that it burns the eyes and permeates the soul, I’m too much of a coward to do myself and the world a favor by ending my pitiful, meaningless existence. God only keeps me around for His own amusement. Like I said, it is fascinating to watch the inevitable happen. This is true especially when the solution is so obvious it might as well be stamped on the forehead of the person flailing away, bouncing his head against the brick wall endlessly. There is some comfort in routine. If my routine revolves around me getting a big remorseful headache as a result of banging my head against the wall well that just makes for some serious slapstick comedy for the entertainment of those smart enough to realize that the headache could be avoided by simply not banging that head into that same fucking brick wall. For some reason, although I have been blessed with a degree of something like intelligence, I never seem to conceptualize the simplicity of that axiom until it is too late and the money is gone. I am so stubborn. It is without doubt my main Achilles’ heel. I’m stubborn and I have a negative attitude and I feel entitled. I feel like I am “special”. Sure, I’m special alright. Wow. The efforts that I have gone through to acquire money which I then proceeded to literally give away to nameless, faceless, soulless entities like casinos, poker players, drug dealers is staggering. I want to list out the stories that I can remember, the good people that I have fucked over again and again, the incomprehensible horror and shame that I have had to endure because of my own actions but it is such a one sided and unenlightening set of deeds that I don’t know if there is a purpose to it except possibly the satisfaction it would give to some of the victims of my selfish ambition just to hear me admit that I am a piece of human shit. I’m cunning enough that I’ve been able to get by my whole life, cheating myself and everyone unfortunate enough to cross paths with me by manipulating circumstances just enough as to leave a shred of doubt over whether my intentions ever fully equaled the consequences of my actions. Truth be told, I’ve never intended to fuck anybody around. I used to have noble high hopes of coming through in the end and showing everyone, including myself that although the methods I’ve utilized were highly risky and dangerous for me and the ones who trusted me, that my heart was always in the right place and inevitably everything would be worth the temporary hassle and disapproval and doubt. Slowly these hopes have waned to the point where these days I just don’t know what the fuck I’m doing or why and I’m led by my past into my present which tomorrow will be just more of the same. Life has become a grind. I’m now fully stuck in this rut. No longer can I say, “for a minute there I lost myself”. That minute has become a decade. A decade for me is 25% of my life to date and I’m not getting any younger. The chances for redemption seem to be harder and harder to come by and the saddest thing for me is that my hopes have eroded to the point where most of them are just regrets. There is no other way to put it. I’ve lost things that are not ever going to be replaced. How does one go about replacing a flesh and blood sister who committed suicide in jail on Valentine’s Day really? A sister who died with her brother who was bringing home 2,500 every two weeks and gambling it all away, while at the same time running up a debt of over 700 dollars for his drug habit. A debt with his sister. It boggles the mind and frustrates the soul and embitters the heart to consider the finality of that situation and the utter despair which must have accompanied her final moments on this planet. I’m guilty of being an accomplice in her death. I know it without a doubt. There are so many things I could have done to help her and I know this and I have to live with this and its not easy to live with. My “hopes” in that area are gone until I’m gone and then we’ll see what happens but for now suffice to say I can’t replace something I lost. That’s one thing. I’ve got many more. How many of these stains on my soul am I going to have to endure until finally, even my heart, grossly swollen with unjustified pride as it is, has had enough and just can’t bear the thought of one more toxic set of events on its thin and unsteady walls, and finally gives out and puts me out of my misery? Only God knows that answer. I can assure you that nobody is going to be feeling sorry for me and there will be no mercy for me then. It will be too late by far. I don’t even need to hear myself being doomed to an eternity of frustration by the Almighty. I already know I won’t be able to avert His righteous gaze or come close to answering his question, “WHY DID YOU NOT TURN AWAY FROM YOUR FRUITLESS WAYS WHILE YOU WERE STILL ALIVE YOU JACKASS? I BEAT YOU ON THE HEAD WITH THE CERTAIN TRUTH THAT YOU WERE NEVER GOING TO PROSPER THE WAY YOU WERE LIVING BUT YOU CHOSE TO IGNORE MY ENTREATIES THEN. DON’T BOTHER WITH YOUR ENTREATIES NOW. FOR I AM IGNORING YOURS AND TURNING MY BACK ON YOU FOREVER”.
I wrote this 12 hours ago approximately and I read it over for the second time just minutes ago. I’m blown away by my gripping writing style I must say. One area of my life that is nearly sublime as it stands right here and now has got to be my writing. I was hypnotized reading it just now. I read it as if someone else had written it and I found myself feeling waves of empathy wash over me. I know I was hard on myself when I wrote that. The mood I was in at the time was equal parts frustration and sorrow. It was written in the dead of night, a cold, loveless, November night to be specific, and as a standalone piece definitely conveys the desperation and certain hopelessness that I was feeling at the time. I stand by what I’ve written but in the light of day I can afford to be more kind and understanding of Anthony Mandich. I have no choice but to be kind and understanding. I’m not ready to throw in the towel on my life. Not by a long shot. The only way to emerge from the labyrinth of fruitlessness that I have aspired to the past several years is to continue baring my soul and my actions, in a sort of self induced confessional via the keyboard and mouse I am currently using to type this shocking piece of non fiction. My own actions need to be exposed to the harsh light of day and I need to take ownership for the bag of shit I have steadily filled and carried alongside me for such a long time. Only by peeling away these layers of toxicity through admitting them in a no nonsense forum such as this, can I hope to eventually make my way to that clearing in the middle of the forest that is my life and find the good hearted, beautiful, talented, happy go lucky, affectionate, bundle of joy that is Anthony Mandich as he was born into this world. Anthony Mandich before life had begun to have its way with him and him with life…..
Stay tuned for what I promise to be a fascinating trainwreck of a document. One that nobody is going to be able to put down once its taken up and started…..
I love talking to my mature (pretty much) emo kid 13 year old daughter Ciara Alabama Mandich. I’m so proud of her and I’m so happy that she’s my kid. She’s so fucking rad. I can talk to her like I talk. Period. And she gets me and understands me and stuff. She’s just the shit man. She’s so smart and so funny and such a smart ass and yet such and emotional sensitive little emo kid. Her and all her friends are the Emo children of the Corn. Yeah, so I like my kid anyways. We got in a fight a while ago cuz she was getting too big for her britches and trying to talk shit on Facebook like my friends and I do to each other. Being disrespectful and just bad which is all good except it points out my flaws as a parent which are bloody numerous and for the world to see which I didn’t like too much. Anyways long story short, a bit of drama ensued which was kinda exhilarating and emotional and kinda fun really. I had to roar like the mother fuckin’ king of the jungle we all know i am. Had to go as far as to defriend my only kid on Facebook. What an inglorious bastard as my old next door neighbor Pete Rause in Wainui Beach, New Zealand used to say. He was like 74 and loved Gin with Lemon and Water. Loved it. We lived right on the sand man it was bad ass. So fucking bad ass. I’m talking a full house too. 3 bedrooms, kitchen living room two baths a huge front yard, a backyard that ended at the ocean. It was unreal. Anyways Peter at first thought I was just a crazy bastard but he grew to love me quickly. I would go over to his house most nights after work and we would have several Gin and Tonics. Well he would have Gin and lemon and water and I would have the Gin and Tonics.
He loved me though and his face would light up with a smile all the time, he had a really nice smile like a little kids in a sense, and when he would catch me grabbing his smokes he would say what are you doing ya bastard? Like bassssssssssstard. It was hot. Usually a couple nights a week some of his golf buddies, these conservative, older New Zealand men would come over for drinks and they just never knew quite what to make of me. Here I am, this movie star hot, tattooed, young American rascal who lived next door to Peter Rause, Gisborne New Zealand’s only professional golfer and certainly the Alpha Male of his group of pals. I had a beauty queen girlfriend, Ariana Parker and I worked as the hotshot cocktail barman at The Tsunami Bar right down the road as you enter Wainui Beach from Gisborne proper. More likely then not I would have been bombing down our long sketchy lose sandy dirty driveway (like 200 yards downhill) in the dark with my shirt off and then coming up every time after narrowly avoiding death in the pitch black and saunter back into Pete’s house, tattooed and shirtless, sweating but looking fabulous and pick up my drink I had left sitting wherever, walk right up to where Peter would be holding court in the living room with the cricket or rugby blaring louder then hell, grab his pack of smokes while he tried to slap my hand and calls me a bastard laughing though with his sycophantic friends watching in awe at the exchanges of admonishments from Pete and laughs from me. They would be incredulous that Peter had let a ruffian such as myself into his home let alone his bottle of South gin and his pack of Stuyvesant Lights. It was an odd pairing to be sure but it was a good pairing too me and Pete. As soon as I walked away to the kitchen to make Peter his next drink (he loved the way I made his simple drinks), I would hear the whispered questions and the loud response, which was always the story of how Pete and I met when in the first couple of nights after moving in, me and some mates had just discovered the driveway skate and we took full advantage, seeing that it was January and the height of New Zealand summer. We would be clanking around at all hours and Pete said at first he just wondered who this BASSSSSTARD was and then he came into the Tsunami Bar where I worked about a week after I moved in and I recognized him and proceeded to pour him Stella after Stella after Stella after Stella for free and thats where Pete started loving Anthony.
Anyways sorry for the quick sideline explanation lol. Where was I? Oh yeah so I had to defriend Ciara cuz she was bad and stuff and in order to regain my friendship and remain a part of my cyber world I asked her to do something I didn’t think for a second she would do. I asked her to write me an essay on Delara Darabi and Lin Zhao, and to tell me why they were her heros.
I was shocked about two hours later, on a Saturday no less, when my hot little bad ass little daughter emailed me two sweet essays, clearly written in her own words, perfectly cohesive and excellently and clearly written. Basically she delivered exactly what I asked for, which was her way of saying sorry and I was only to happy to accept. I love that kid. We have a different relationship but I love that kid.
Sincerely the baddest man you will ever know. Anthony Mandich
I’ve just been watching the USA vs. Ghana World Cup Football Match and the boys couldn’t pull it off. They fell when they gave up a goal in Extra Time. Pretty much sucks really. I was watching it on a live stream on some website called http://www.footyfire.com and its pretty rad to watch the game on the internet because there is a chat feature and you can talk shit to other people which is always enjoyable. I met some dude from Florida named superglued and we bravely hung in there after Ghana scored the goal that put them ahead 2-1 and all the USA haters started their ridiculous sing song chants of “FUCK the uSA”, “say bye bye USA” “jajajajajajajajajajajaajajajajajajajaja usa sucks” and other such shit. The USA is easily the most hated nation in the world if you were to go by the content of that chat board. And really its true because when I lived in Australia and New Zealand, nobody had anything nice to ever say about the USA but its kinda funny how the girls sure seemed to like the boys from America….I always got lots and lots of chicks. So that’s something. Anyways good job USA for making it out of the first round.
I just had an unreal convo with this girl Krista that is a recruiter for Sole Technology. She was bad ass. I’m not going through an external recruiter for this position so I feel much better about my chances of landing the job because of that. Its always way harder when the employer has to shell out 20k in one lump some payment to the recruiting agency just for the privilege of hiring you. That is a shit load of cash and I’ve noticed that jobs I’ve obtained via external recruiters always come with alot of scrutiny from everyone for some reason. I don’t really like scrutiny lol. Unless you are scrutinizing how good looking I am or scrutinizing a painting, I’m actually not in favor of excessive amounts of scrutiny. Anyhow, so it seems I might have a face to face interview coming up which is pretty cool and positive news. I just checked out the job requirements on Monster.com (didn’t even know it was listed lol) and the job is definitely pretty intense. Its a good thing I’ve had a good long break from the corporate world number one, that its a cool company with cool products in a cool industry number two, and that I’m bad ass number three.
So yeah this is one of those inane posts that are posted for no good reason. Talk about things that nobody cares. Wearing all the things that nobody wears. I’m a moving on up to the Eastside to that deluxe apartment in the skyyyyyyy moving on up.
I filmed this little video yesterday of me and my mom Heather Davies and my step dad Chip Davies at Big Lots which used to be Pic n Save back in the day. It wasn’t even really that funny of a video it was actually kinda dumb I thought. I posted it on Facebook just to fuck with my mom and surprisingly its gotten some really favorable reviews. It just goes to show you.
I’m not really sure what it goes to show you but yeah.
My Uncle Gordon Bayne and I have been having heads up poker matches quite often lately. And I have to be honest, I am kicking his fucking ass.
Sorry Uncle G but hey you know…I love you kid.
I downloaded some music last night. Simplex…..the whole record I think. Really cool older punk band from Costa Mesa area that I used to see all the time. I’m really close friends with their bassist Rich Zaydel aka Bald Rich aka Baldilox. Anyways the guitarist Landon apparently has turned over a new gay leaf and he was talking lots of homoerotic dirty talk to both me and Rich on one of our little insult trade off posting pages on Facebook. So that was interesting. Apparently he is in line to get his Baby Blue Belt after recently receiving his Pink Belt. I’m not sure what the belts signify but apparently it has something to do with Gay Karate or Gay Kung-Fu. Hey….God bless him….it was great to hear from him anyhow and it definitely brought up some good memories of the past so I went and searched out their band Simplex under “free mp3 download Simplex punk” and I found their whole record in .211111345643 seconds. So that was cool.
This chick Briar I know from New Zealand told me she doesn’t like my blog because I diss people. I don’t agree with that but everyone is entitled to their opinion. I do want to share a freaky story about someone but I can’t do it because I know they stalk the fuck out of me on the internet and they will know so quick if I even indirectly mention them. But yeah I do have a freaky story about a crazy thing to recount for you all someday not today.
My sister Theresa’s baby is so cute and little. The kids name is Jaelynn which I think is a very cool name. I don’t know about the middle name of “Lore” but hey whatever. You’re talking to a guy whose kids middle name is Alabama, a state I have never been to and never will go to. But I absolutely love her name Ciara Alabama Mandich and actually I absolutely love her. She’s a treat and a half my kid is. She’s truly bad ass.
Okay enough of this crap I gotta go. I got shit to do motherphuggers.
Hello to my adoring public, its your favorite jackass Anthony Mandich here again to spread a little peace, tranquility and poker know how on a Wednesday at nearly HIGH NOON. Actually its 11:59 a.m. as we embark on this thrill ride through my brain. I know I’m excited and I sure hope you guys are too.
All things considered, I couldn’t be happier really. My art career is starting to gather some momentum which is just unreal. I’m super stoked about that. I work so hard at it that I feel as if I am killing myself slowly by even partaking most days but I just can’t help myself. Like the world of poker, the art world is just so fascinating and complex and subtle and beautiful. Hold on a second am I describing myself or art? LOL. Both actually…..
Seriously though, perhaps I can leave my mark in some small way upon the world through a painting I may do in the future. I’m no Rembrandt but I’ve got imagination and I know this: lately when I finish a piece, whether its graphic art or a canvas, I get goosebumps because I know I’ve created something that personally, if I was at an art gallery or at an opening or even at someone’s house and I saw something like what I just created, I would have no choice but to get that wierd feeling I get that I’m looking at something unreal and just so damn cool. I haven’t sold that many paintings and an artists life is a tough one so there has got to be some reason that I’ve been going at it since 2001 hard out.
I love the fact that I’m improving, that my pieces are put together in a more polished manner every time. I’m no way near to having reached my potential with my art career. No way near. And that fills me with the happiest, warmest and most satisfying feeling I can feel.
Human beings need hope. Hope not only sustains life, it causes life to thrive. God promises to give life and give it abundantly somewhere in the bible and I think I know what He’s talking about with that one. Poker and Art are two mainstays in my life and they always will be. The simple reason is that both of them are a microcosm of life and I will NEVER know all there is to know about either one of them. In fact there is so much information readily available about Poker and Art that its like overload to my brain. How can I ever be bored if that is the case.
Maybe its not the greatest purpose ever but at least I have a purpose. For that today I am grateful and thankful.
Does anyone else feel a little bit choked up right now? LOL hahahahahahahahahahahaha what a bunch of sissys. LOL. God I’m good. Anyhow I should cut off this Emo Kid post before I dig myself in deeper. Besides I need to make a phone call to a very special lady name Krista who works at Sole Technology. (More about that later….)
I am waiting with baited breath to be picked up by who else, a Heather. This one is Heather McGovern. I know so many Heathers its sick. I’m not going to get into the Heathers right now but trust me I will fascinate you in the future with my Heather stories. Right now my only purpose in posting a blog at all is to get my newly completed painting out there for the public to see. It is extremely cool I must say. Its just really really really cool. Sean Stenlake thinks so as well. Even my Uncle Gordon likes it. Why don’t we just kinda cut through all the bullshit and unveil the damn thing. Ladies and Gentlemen……….meet the girl of my dream and nightmares………..
Stenlake the Monkey Boy just sent me a text to inform me that Poker Stars is having a $370 World Series of Poker Main Event satellite tournament on the 20th of June, 2010. Is he new or something? Poker Stars probably has ten satellites to the main event every day. Actually let me hold on a second before ridiculing him. I’ll go check out the Poker Stars website and see what’s really going on. Hold on one second.
Well it turns out that Sean is kind of correct in a sense. June 20th is in fact the LAST day to qualify for the Main Event via satellite and for the $370 dollars you can in fact directly buy in to the last Mega Satellite Tournament. There are 200 packages to the Main Even guaranteed but in all likelyhood there will be many more seats then that actually won. Its a pretty cool package too and includes spending cash, accomodations at the Palms Resort and Casino where I stayed with Briar on our wedding night, and more, including huge bonuses for anyone who qualifies through Poker Stars that actually wins the tournament, as well as your choice of prostitutes to enjoy during your stay, tickets to see Wayne Newton perform live in Henderson, Nevada, and a complimentary Poker Stars hat and bumper sticker. All in all, a compelling adventure for sure.
Forget for a moment that our chances of being in the top 200 of that tournament are Slim to None. It would be great to win. Forget also for a moment that I don’t have a Poker Stars account anymore, in fact, I play on Poker Stars using a fraudulent account with Sean Stenlakes name. You see, when I first started learning how to play poker a few years back I went a little bit cookoo and sort of wrote about ten electronic checks that sort of bounced. Ever since then I’ve had trouble getting Poker Stars to see my side of the story. Being a degenerate, tilted out of my mind, donkey boy poker player at the time is not an excuse they want to hear.
Sean Stenlake, you’re a good kid. Thanks for the heads up on that tournament. I truly wish I could play in it. Alas, I cannot. So I will continue rafting down the meat river alone forever.
Uh huh. Sure I did. I’m feeling combative. First of all I’m tripping on either Heather Batchelder or her boyfriend Aaron DeLavergne. I’m not sure which one of them actually was doing the typing when they commented on my last blog that I shouldn’t be fronting myself off on Facebook. What the hell does that mean? I got no idea what that is supposed to mean at all. There was also a comment about drugs. Something along the lines of “Drugs are cool? Really?”. I went back and visited my post and couldn’t find a reference to drugs being cool. Not directly or indirectly. But you know what? Now that I’ve been accused of it, fuck it, DRUGS ARE COOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Like I said, I’m being combative. I’m really starting to hate this blog thing too. You have no idea the amount of things that I ‘m holding back on discussing. It’s starting to piss me off something fierce. Things I would like to discuss but am restraining myself from actually discussing:
1. Grandma Shirley the Tyrant
2. Online gambling, particularly the casino segment of poker rooms.
3. Indian gaming casinos such as San Manuel Casino and Pechanga Casino.
4. The inane individuals who I see on Facebook.
5. Reasons why I agree with the statement “Doing the same thing expecting different results is the definition of insanity.”
There are many other topics that fall into this category. It totally sucks because I’m coming to find out that I am actually just a pussy. I come across like I don’t give a fuck about anything and that I can say or do anything I want to say or do. It’s not the case. It’s not true. I mean truly I’m a coward if you think about it. I can’t even LIST some of the topics I would like to discuss. Hows that for self censorship.
Now I’m even getting more pissed so I gotta go. Fuck my life. Just kidding. But seriously though….Fuck my life.
My musical tastes are as scattered as my varnish filled brain. I can’t be fucked coming up with a mood playlist on my Media Player or even put the damn thing on shuffle so I’m getting full career sets by each band that comes on. Tonight I’ve already heard 25 SLF songs at least, 4 Radiohead Albums, St.Elsewhere by Gnarls Barkley, 3 Air Albums, Chimara, The Airborne Toxic Event who I had never heard before tonight and I did like one sappy song they did. Somehow I even have 4 Air Supply songs. Just what I need at 3:30 in the morning when I’ve been painting for fucking what seems like forever. Painting and playing poker. Thats all I seem to do. Paint and play poker.
Gambling, Art, Women, Drugs, Skateboarding, Punk Rock, Cocktail Making, Writing, Chick Music, and Very Little Sleep. Those have been the overriding themes of my life for a very long time. We can go back at least ten years and I promise that those same ten topics were still in play. Maybe more of one and less of another but pretty much consistently I’ve been a prisoner of the same shit. Prisoner? Well I don’t know if that is the right word but you get the point right? I’d really like to expand my horizons or something.
Perhaps getting rid of a couple of the more toxic elements and adding a few neglected elements and my life would be more satisfying, fulfilling and in balance. I don’t know. It’s just a thought. Boring….I’m going to spare my 5 readers any more philosophy from my inane brain.
So I’ve gone on one of the biggest graphic rampages of my life in the last two months. I have plenty of sincerely awesome pieces that I want to transfer to canvas. In fact I have enough to keep me busy painting for a year at least. I want to have an art show before then though. I’m thinking September or October maybe. Hopefully some people will come and get excited and spend thousands of dollars and that would be just so fucking cool.
I’ve got a poker tournament starting on Full Tilt right now so I think I should go soon. As if you care. Honestly, its the fact that I can type and I like typing that keeps me putting out this blog. I really don’t have anything worthwhile to contribute. I also don’t feel like I can be completely candid in the way that I really really want to. There are definitely some things I would love to discuss but for various reasons I can’t. Which sucks.
Sean Stenlake, my good friend, and I, are playing poker today at Larry Flynt’s Hustler Casino in Gardena. I can’t wait. My hot little friend Kirsty Paulus works there as a dealer and she is so nice to look at. The cutest face the hottest ass. I mean the hottest fucking ass. And she thinks I’m the shit. So I love her. LOL. Sean and I are going to LA anyways to go to Dick Blick Art Supplies. I got too many brushes in my recent art supplies order and I want to trade some of them in for some other shit I need. I have an ART Patron who is currently financing this current run of paintings. This person is the shit. I can’t really name this person because I don’t think this person wants to be publicly outed as a sucker for my art! I don’t blame this person for being a sucker for my art actually because well I don’t know but I think its kinda nice and stuff. LOL. Anyways…..I digress. As usual. By the way I just donked out of my tournament on Full Tilt on purpose. I didn’t feel like playing it so I just open shoved the flop after calling a preflop raise with 7 – 5 off. Who cares. I’d rather save my prowess for the live casino. I’ve been killing it lately in poker. Well mostly killing it. Well actually yeah, killing it in poker and then getting sucked into other forms of gambling, losing when I should win, getting angry and spewy with my money and losing it back that way. Its a common enough plight with poker players, even brilliant ones.
I”m not saying I’m a brilliant poker player but I am at least a fearless and thinking and aggressive player. I’d be willing to play anybody that reads this and wants to challenge me heads up. No problem at all. Especially if you come over to my house and play me heads up in my art studio because I am currently 12-0 in sessions since April 1st with a net positive gain of over $550 dollars. Which isn’t bad for poker with friends and stuff. One guy who I will be glad to name here, Freddy, my friend for quite a while from the casino, lost his fucking ass to me so bad and he wouldn’t stop and built himself up an impressive debt of over $460 dollars to me which he as not paid. He just doesn’t call or come over anymore which I laugh at and scorn him in my mind. What a major pussy! Oh I could tell you some funny fucking stories about those sessions and maybe I will but not right now because I am sick of typing and wanna work on my painting for a bit longer, take a four nap and then get up and go play poker. I really don’t have too much money because I spent most of it on art supplies on Friday. Which is actually a good thing I don’t want to risk anything meaningful on poker this weekend. Which means I will probably kick ass.
Wish me luck in all of my endeavours because I sincerely wish you all luck in yours. Bye kids.
P.S. I’ve included one of my recent pieces of art. This is one of the finest pieces I’ve ever personally created. It’s really a complete piece and if you have the ablility to look at it at a pretty good size it should keep you captivated for a few minutes at least. Enjoy! Don’t steal it though okay? Thanks.
THIS POST WILL BE VERY JUVENILE AND ASININE. IT”S MY ONE SIDED BARRAGE OF LAME AND STUPID COMMENTS I MAKE TO THE DONKEY PLAYERS I COMPETE AGAINST DAILY ON FULL TILT POKER. WARNING: CONTAINS ADULT CONTENT, SWEAR WORDS, SOME RACIAL SLURS, SOME OTHER SLURS AGAINST WHATEVER PLAYERS I’M PLAYING AGAINST BE THEY MEN WOMEN GAYS STRAIGHTS WHATEVER. USUALLY I’M JUST SO BORED THAT I CAN’T HELP BUT TRY AND LIVEN UP THE TABLE WITH SOME OF MY TOXIC SPEW. ITS REALLY NOT EVEN FUNNY ITS JUST TOTALLY STUPID. BUT I TYPE REALLY FAST AND I PRIDE MYSELF ON BEING ABLE TO FIND INSULTS IN ANY LANGUAGE QUICKLY. READ ON AT YOUR OWN PERIL. THIS POST WILL KILL 3.6% OF YOUR REMAINING BRAIN CELLS. THANK YOU FOR VISITING ANTHONY MANDICH: ARTIST AND URBAN LEGEND.
System: The Daily Dollar Rebuy ($1 NL Hold’em) will be starting in 8 minutes. $10,000 is guaranteed!
tonymandichsan: PHUCKING DONKEY RERAISING WITH KING 8 OFF SUIT YOU PHUCKING COOK
Nikolay TTTT: Fck
tonymandichsan: NikolayTTTT+Phaggot!=HOmo boy from russia
Nikolay TTTT: гандонпорусскипиши
tonymandichsan: shut up russian phaggot
Nikolay TTTT: ятебяпоимею!
tonymandichsan: i said shut up you dumb homo
tonymandichsan: nice POT homo boy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nikolay TTTT: здарова! четоянкивзбунтовались
tonymandichsan: that didn’t hurt me ya phucking bean curd
Nikolay TTTT: нинзяхуесос
tonymandichsan: Пидарас NikolayTTTT
tonymandichsan: Stupid Ниггер
Nikolay TTTT: орусскийвыучилхуесосебаный
tonymandichsan: whatever you Блядь
Nikolay TTTT: отсоси
tonymandichsan: you do love to suck the Член
Nikolay TTTT: пидараспотамучтотебяебу?
tonymandichsan: and of course you constantly eat my жопа
tonymandichsan: Niikkalay you stupid pussy why don’t you just идивжопу
Nikolay TTTT: втвою? яитактам!
Nikolay TTTT: учирусскийхуесос
tonymandichsan: NIka just идинахуй
tonymandichsan: your nothing but a сука
Nikolay TTTT: этотвое
Nikolay TTTT: al in пидор
tonymandichsan: Do you know what a burn it is that I ‘am insulting the phuck out of your commie &&% in your own language? That has to hurt huh litlte puppy lenin lover?
tonymandichsan: don’t you know that i am a agentura innostrannyx specsluzhb
Nikolay TTTT: you next
tonymandichsan: its up to me to iz”yatie ostatkov vrazhdebnyx klassov
Nikolay TTTT: нуиотсоситогда KGB рулит
tonymandichsan: i have heard that your father is a rastlennyj and a zagovorshchik
Nikolay TTTT: хуерщик
tonymandichsan: i will give you the smertnyj prigovor if you are not careful little vyrodok
tonymandichsan: because you are just really a vrag naroda
tonymandichsan: can you believe it ? i shat myself yet again.
tonymandichsan: a l’stec
Nikolay TTTT: эйлошератычераскуарекался
tonymandichsan: all you do is nizkopoklonstvo
tonymandichsan: just a silly xuligan
tonymandichsan: really nothing more then a bezdel’nik
Nikolay TTTT: al in&
tonymandichsan: you certainly don’t scare me vzbeshivshayas’ sobaka;
tonymandichsan: my poker skills are like a vzbeshënnaya volch’ya svora
Nikolay TTTT: yes russian mad dog
tonymandichsan: your grandfather was a bezrodnyj kosmopoli
tonymandichsan: your brother is a merzavec
tonymandichsan: nice call swishy
tonymandichsan: bye bye lisa BIOTCH
tonymandichsan: nice pot tilty swishy little baby biotch
tonymandichsan: yippee cayay puto
tonymandichsan: thats right bi tch
tonymandichsan: your not really laughing your choking back tears of homosexual rage
Swish777: i will get it back
tonymandichsan: sure you will sluttage
tonymandichsan: uh huh. sure you willl
Swish777: you just holding it for me
tonymandichsan: yeah you’ll get it back
tonymandichsan: uh huh
tonymandichsan: sure i am
tonymandichsan: more like i am kicking yoru !!%# in the dirt
tonymandichsan: who wants an extreme man loaf? any takers? going once going twice get your extreme man loaf right here sir. its good and good for you completely nutritious and just lovely as phuck
tonymandichsan: i wanna shove my love straight down your throats scum90
tonymandichsan: you should have al ook at the triple chambered calf kidney i have in my small intestines
tonymandichsan: hydrojuicer why not hydrojuice my balls
System: The $4,000 Guarantee ($24+$2 PL Hold’em) will be starting in 6 minutes.
tonymandichsan: eat my butt hydrojuicer butt cheese loving aphrodisiac
tonymandichsan: eat my bals eat my shorts eat my butt hydrojuicer ya ba%#&& @$@& boy
tonymandichsan: now hydro boy lick me suck me eat my butty
curry2121 (Observer): jurgy u suck
System: A $50+$5 satellite to the $750,000 Guarantee will be starting in 7 minutes. At least 10 seats will be awarded!
System: A $2+$0.20 Satellite to MSOP #24 will be starting in 2 minutes. At least 5 seats will be awarded!
curry2121 (Observer): jurgy?
tonymandichsan: jurgy died
tonymandichsan: jurgy’s in doggy heaven now sorry buddy….he’s ruff ruff ruffing away in the sky
System: A $50+$5 satellite to the $750,000 Guarantee will be starting in 2 minutes. At least 10 seats will be awarded!
tonymandichsan: jurgy ….. come here puppy ….thass a good puppy dog lips
System: The $26 Ticket Frenzy ($6+$0.50 NL Hold’em) will be starting in 6 minutes.
tonymandichsan: adios shaka kahn lips
System: A $0.90+$0.05 $3 Main Event Satellite will be starting in 7 minutes. At least 20 seats will be awarded!
tonymandichsan: SEND IT
System: The $30,000 Guarantee ($100+$9 NL Hold’em) will be starting in 8 minutes.
tonymandichsan: in your mother phuggin face bioooooooottttttttttch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
System: The $15,000 KO Guarantee ($24+$2 NL Hold’em) will be starting in 4 minutes.
tonymandichsan: damn agsone up you just straight OWNED
tonymandichsan: owned like the dog you are osn
tonymandichsan: just owned
tonymandichsan: eaten alive for breakfast lunch and dinny din din
tonymandichsan: agsoneup just got OWNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNED
System: The $30,000 Guarantee ($100+$9 NL Hold’em) will be starting in 3 minutes.
tonymandichsan: so gagsoneup how does it feel to be completely and utterly and ultra convincinly OWNED?
tonymandichsan: did i mention that I OWN YOU AGSONEUP?
tonymandichsan: THAT I’M ABOUT TO felt you?
tonymandichsan: SIGNED SEALED AND DELIVERED BABY
tonymandichsan: ITS PUPPY LOVE BETWEEN YOUR BIG PINK TONGUE AND MY ballllllllzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
tonymandichsan: OH YEAH….YOUR OWNEC
tonymandichsan: ARE YOU OWNED YET?
tonymandichsan: DO I OWN YOU
tonymandichsan: RUFF RUFF
tonymandichsan: RUFF RUFF
tonymandichsan: RUFF RURFF
tonymandichsan: COME HERE AGSZY THATS A GOOD GIRL. LEMME GIVE YOU A TREAT
tonymandichsan: HOW BOUT AN “OWN” ?
tonymandichsan: NOT A BONE BUT AN OWN!!!!!!!!
tonymandichsan: LOLLLLLLY LOLLLY
tonymandichsan: come here dog’
tonymandichsan: ruff ruff
tonymandichsan: bow wow
tonymandichsan: come here little owned little whipped doggy
tonymandichsan: come here gilr
tonymandichsan: but yeah you’ll get it back
tonymandichsan: it smells like goat semen in this poker room for some reason
tonymandichsan: zen master pete would your monkey &&% care to lick my balls . ? you can pretend its just a big banana down there
tonymandichsan: slawa my balls russia you are a ball licking wunderkind.
tonymandichsan: kingtrxtrme lick my balls jackass
tonymandichsan: i had total air nothing not a thing
tonymandichsan: thanks milfy
System: A $0.25+$0.05 $1 Main Event Satellite will be starting in 2 minutes. At least 20 seats will be awarded!
tonymandichsan: next time i’ll take it all so watch out bitotchhhhh’
tonymandichsan: lol lawdy dawdy we likes to pawty we don’t cawze trouble we don’t bother nobody we’re just the man thats on the mike and when we rock upon the mike we rock the mike ritght
ohhhhh owwwwy someone name tsnljnnknlnloloo just got owned. ….owned like the biotch that he /she is
Addendum to this Post: This should be fun actually. Today is Tuesday April 05, 2011. The post I am correcting in order to stop myself from vomiting was first published on June 07, 2010. Apparently I was fond of telling self serving fairy tales back then and attempting to pass them off as reality. The reason I am fessing up and setting the record straight, at least on this post, is because after reading the original entry about 13 minutes ago, I was filled with an overwhelming level of self loathing at the outlandish and loony way I pathetically misrepresented and romanticized the events that were written about, namely the 2010 LA Poker Classic Poker Tournament that was held at the Commerce Casino.
It’s now about 20 minutes after I wrote the last paragraph and I’ve been sitting here in front of my computer, in my messy room the disgusting scum pit also known as my bedroom, trying to make sense of the battle being fought in my head. You see, I can’t make up my mind on the best approach to take from here. You, faithful reader, probably don’t give a rat’s ass about this topic to begin with and I realize that. At the same time that I want to provide entertainment and some excitement to your life via a fascinating but REALITY based based true short story.
I’m not going to dwell on recreating this post I decided. Its been a long day (now 1:26 a.m. (NOW 2:25 a.m.) I will just say it like this okay!
I was basically dead flat broke during the LA Poker Classic. I didn’t even play in one tournament. Every time I did get money I always managed to somehow donk it all off out of frustration or because I had been up playing poker for too many hours straight and was beyond delirious. I did play poker with Mike Matusow and all of the rest of the people mentioned below but it was part of a training class. The story about reraising Mike the Mouth all in is totally true. But for the rest of the shit: I didn’t have money through out the whole time and in fact I was so depressed and just bummed out the whole time. I did meet all those people and they were cool.
I played poker with Mike Matusow, Tom McEvoy (Main Event Winner, 1983), Joe Sebok (Barry Greenstein’s son), Adam Levy and others during the LA Poker Classic this year. It was sick. Mike Matusow is very cool and very good at poker.
I actually had the balls to re raise his re raise and put him all in on the river when holding Queen Nine on a Queen high board when a river Jack hit. Unfortunately for me, Mr. Matusow insta called and turned over pocket Jacks for a rivered set. Oh well. It was fun.
The accessibility of the poker professionals at Commerce Casino was so awesome during the LAPC. I look like a rock star as it is, and a damn good looking one at that, so I had no problem fitting in, plus Commerce was my home casino for so long that I just felt like I owned the place anyways. But yeah, during the LAPC I met so many pros and hung out with the cool ones for extended periods of time.
Quickly let me just list the coolest and the not so cool. Actually the only one that was less then cool in my opinion was Johnny Chan, who didn’t want to take the one second required to take a photo with me but whatever. He’s not that big of a deal to me anyways.
Peter Eastgate who won the main event in 2008 was one of the coolest by far. He was more interested in me and what I was up to or at least he had the ability to make it seem that way. I wanted to take pics with him and he suggested we go outside of the tourny room to avoid the security because you are not supposed to snap photos inside the casino. When we got out the doors Peter Eastgate grabbed my ass and whispered, “lets go to my room.” Just kidding. Ha ha ha don’t get mad Peter I’m only fucking around. Nah, he was way cool and we ended up talking for about an hour actually.
Phil Laak and Jennifer Tilly were totally so sweet. High fives from Phil Laak, suggestions for better and “more attractive” camera angles from Jennifer etc. She’s smoking hot in person too by the way. I like her. Even though she busted my friend Vince from Sacramento out of the 10k Main Event when they both flopped sets but hers were Kings and his were 8’s. Oh well no shame there really.
Lets see, my hands are getting tired a little so I wanna cut this off pretty quick but….John Juanda, Todd Brunson, Michael Binger, Vanessa Rousseau, Ely Elezra, Al Barbieri, Jason Mercier, Eric Seidel, Chino Rheem, John Pham were all cool and seemingly interested in talking and not fake as fuck.
I gotta go now cuz I gotta take a bath and get ready to bail out. My friend is taking me to Hustler Casino tonight to play in the $3-$5 ($300 Buy in) game they have there.
Today is June 4th, 2010. Today would have been my sister Natalie’s 40th Birthday. I miss my sister.
This is just a copy of the letter I wrote to the Press Enterprise after they published a story about my sister Natalie being found dead in her cell last Valentines Day
I just wanted to express my appreciation for you taking the time to listen to me vent about the loss of my sister Natalie Ann Amador on Valentine’s Day. Not only did you take the time when I did reach you, you made an effort to get back to me when I didn’t; which is very much appreciated during this difficult and incredibly sad period for our family. Obviously, when someone loses a loved one unexpectedly, THE NUMBER ONE priority is figuring out what happened. In the absence of satisfactory explanations, I’m sure that many people can easily become overbearing, demanding, quick-to-point-fingers, assign blame, and not give a second thought as to the time burdens they are placing upon strangers whom they feel can provide said explanations.
As a reporter for a large metropolitan newspaper, you must be very busy and to be honest, although for us this is a new and horrible addition to our lives, for you it must be somewhat of a familiar, everyday tale of tragedy and a reinforcement of the common sense knowledge you possess regarding the inevitable, ultimate consequence of lifestyles focused on, and ruined by: drugs, alcohol and crime.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that its really cool that your exposure to the ugly side of humanity has not left you jaded to the point that you don’t continue to take the time to respect a sad person’s need to vent and need for someone to listen.
I did a Google search for information regarding suicides while in custody, and the prevalence of available stories hammered home for me the point that my family certainly does not hold the patent on grief, anger, shock or disbelief. In my view that alone is pretty tragic.
Whether my sister chose to end her own life or not, in my opinion the County of Riverside had a legal obligation to ensure that she did not, in fact, follow through SUCCESSFULLY with that choice. She had obviously reached a point in her soul where she mistakenly thought that suicide was the best option. She was under a great deal of stress, facing an almost certain jail sentence, and was armed with the deluded belief that she had let everyone who loved her down. Combine that with a prolonged lack of sleep, the involuntary “cold turkey” withdrawal from a number of toxic substances, and a growing sense of hopelessness regarding her chances of being released prior to facing a judge and answering for her offenses, and it’s much easier to empathize with her misguided choice to take her own life.
I’m sure that many relatives of suicide victims, in rather trite attempts to make themselves feel better, go on an on about HOW WELL they knew their loved ones and how they just KNOW that they would never have taken their own life voluntarily etc etc. I guess I am the exception to that group. If you knew me and what sorts of insanity I have undertaken and survived in my life the next statement I am going to make wouldn’t even be doubted for second. Suffice to say, that for most of my life, my sister Natalie was the good kid and I was the proverbial black sheep, the one all my family was in an almost constant state of anxious dread over. So please BELIEVE ME; I’m telling you, I hung out with my sister a lot, especially the last year or so since I moved back from five years living in Australia and New Zealand, and I really, truly, did implicitly understand and was aware of the vast majority of the issues she faced in her everyday life. I could so easily relate with and probably top most of her dramas.
Without doubt she did have some major issues that needed immediate attention. That’s a given. However, that being said, I KNOW IN MY MIND, HEART, BODY AND SOUL THAT she would NEVER, during the normal course of life, agree with the notion that her life was not worth living; problems, issues, emergencies not withstanding. She was very matter of fact about everything going on in her life. She was not in denial over the glaring deficiencies that existed in key areas of her life. She understood that changes had to be made. She was taking steps, albeit small ones, towards extricating herself from the rather fruitless path she found herself on when she was taken into custody. Small, yet meaningful things like preparing the forms necessary to expunge her prior conviction for possession so that she could get back into her career as a Radiologist.
Unfortunately for Natalie, she never got the chance to pull herself out of what would be apparent to most outsiders as a downward spiral towards oblivion. My family has a significant amount of responsibility for failing to intervene in a more tangible way then being angry with her for her shortcomings and repeated mistakes. She never got the chance to make amends, but I know that she would have. She was kind, generous to a fault, had a positive attitude and took joy in life under extremely trying circumstances. Unselfish to an insane degree in my opinion. Sadly, I’ll start with myself when saying that I and many others did not reciprocate with Natalie. She took care of me so much its sick and I’m the one that has the MBA, the cushy job here at TapouT etc etc. That’s so wrong but I was just used to Natalie being that way and I took it for granted and I never in a million years, even dreamed that she would actually DIE. Jail, yeah, I definitely thought that was a strong possibility. But death? And self inflicted? NATALIE? NO fucking way!
So I’m sad, I’m lashing out, I’m venting. I’m angry that the Sheriff’s Department let something so straight out of a horror movie take place while my sister, who I loved dearly, was in their care. It just really makes me so mad because it was preventable, easily preventable in fact, and should never have happened. I want to make sure it never happens again. Natalie and everyone who knew and loved Natalie have a multitude of unresolved issues, that will now, remain unresolved for eternity and that is wrong on every level. If the County of Riverside cannot take reasonable care of their wards, then ostensibly they should not be holding onto them. Death by suicide is not a long term, feasible solution for the chronic jail overcrowding problems faced by the State of California in my opinion.
It’s Tuesday the First of June, 2010. I slept all day long. I woke up very groggy at 7pm or so. Thirsty, Hungry, Still Tired, like a newborn and very cute baby mewling for milk. I rub my eyes…I wonder what makes me wake up when I’m so tired and I was in this lovely dream with Briar. Alls I remember is kissing and stuff. It was nice. What woke me up? Then I hear it again, the first few chords of Bolan’s Crash, by the fabulous New Bomb Turks. It can only mean one thing,someone is texting me. I find my Palm Pixi smashed under my leg and turn it on. I’ve got texts up the ass. Not literally.
So its an hour later right now. I haven’t checked my texts but I did use You Tube to slowly reacclimate myself to the world. Instead of doing the usual searches: Poker Bad Beats, Poker Bluffs, MMA Fights, Hot Chicks, Phil Laak-Boy Genius, Hell on Earth etc., this time I just went with the Popular selections.
I entered the world of mass hysteria. Gay. For the most part. Except Lena a hot German bitch who apparently won a contest I didn’t know existed for best song. It must be something like American Idol I guess. The video wasn’t even her song, it was just someone who was filming her a few minutes after she won, backstage, as she talked to the Prime Minister of some country, apparently Germany and a few other sycophantic individuals, kissing her ass and fawning over her, asking her ridiculous question after ridiculous question.
I gotta be honest. She’s smoking fucking hot. I would love to kiss her ass. Ha ha ha. I might as well be honest with you. She made me feel real funny inside. Its been a while since I got some!
Too bad I’ll never be able to hit that. I think that’s all I got for today children. See ya later kids.
Today was a topsy turvy crazy kind of a day. Memorial Day and to be honest I still have not taken even a minute to remember the men and women who have died in support of the political machine i mean quest for more oil i mean fifty united states of america. Well I threw in (and then used the incredible strikethrough feature on) some rather snide and sarcastic remarks before rallying and pulling “fifty united states of america” out of my asssssssssss.
I’m not really looking to fight that battle to be honest. I think I just did it to impress my militant punk rock friend and brother Steve Jacobson. He’s a pretty intensely politically incorrect sorta fella and what not. Anyways. Should we bow our heads now in a moment of silence to remember not just the veterans who have died for causes both just and unjust, but also to remember our loved ones who are no longer with us.
They don’t necessarily have to be dead, although thats the usual criteria I suppose. Perhaps you are a psycho and someone you loved (obsessed, stalked, harrassed) obtained a restraining order against you so they are no longer with you. Disturbing yes, fits the criteria for moment of silence? Yes.
Perhaps like me, you were physically removed from a foreign country for overstaying your tourist visa by 716 days. Its now out of your hands and you are no longer among many people and animals you have grown to love. That fits too.
I’ve attended the funerals of my sister Natalie Anne Amador (Mandich), two of my much loved Aunts, Monica Monceaux and Nell Monceaux (in the last ten days) and they definitely count. Aunty Nell’s funeral was today, this morning at St. Ireanaus Catholic Church in the police mecca, Cypress, California. That was a lovely service. It was incredible to see some cousins I used to get wasted with as a youth. The service was presided over by a rather handsome priest Father Mac (i think thats his name).
Father Mac is interesting for a couple reasons other then the fact that he committed my Aunty Nell’s spirit to God. He’s also the first priest I’ve personally ever seen who looks like Chris Cornell in the early Soundgarden days. He’s also the first priest I’ve personally ever met who is John Wayne’s grandson. Thats pretty bad ass actually. He was totally cool and of course for some wierd reason, he sought me out after the funeral during the reception/lunch to ask me what my story was. He thought I was either in a band or some kind of an artist. Bingo. So yeah anyways….
I saw my daughter Ciara over at my incredibly cool cousin Donna’s house in Anaheim Hills. Man is she loaded. They have a radical house, a full skate park on the property complete with two bowls, a bunch of ramps and a whole street course set up. Sick. And she has an excellent bar. I turned her on to Caipiroskas. I’m a bad ass bartender. We’ll get into some bartender stories later but yeah I rock. She was in love with them immediately and later when I was kicking my Uncles and Cousins asses at No Limit Texas Holdem (Blinds $1 and $2), she kept hitting me up to make more. Thats when you know you basically dominate as a bartender by the way.
So I did see my daughter, who I love to death. I bamboozled my family with poker skills, I shared lots of pics of my art with loads of family at the funeral. I got to mingle with, chat to, and hug lots of people I love and I sat next to the hottest chick in church. Actually I sat between two of the hottest chicks because I sat next to Donna, my cousin and this other nectar mama whose name I did not catch but whose arm and dress and sort of leg I did come in contact with many times. The sad thing is she must be young because she is my cousin Yvette’s daugher Alyssa’s friend. But fuck man, she is definitely of legal age and smoking hot. Yikes. We hit it off definitely. She thinks I’m hot definitely. She thinks I’m cool definitely. I want to bed her. Definitely. Yowza.
What else? Shit I could go on and on because I am a pontificating wind bag who thinks nobody has anything better to do then read about my life. Really I have no point in this post or any posts ad infinitum. Trust me. You don’t wanna follow me. Thanks for stopping by today but really just spend your internet time more wisely in the future. There are plenty of informative and incredibly interesting web sites out there that have the potential to actually enrich and nourish your need for worthy content. This is not one of them.
God Bless us everyone! Bye bye.
P.S. Let me give a shout out to the following cousins, all children of my Aunty Nell, and some of my favorite people on the planet.
Alan Monceaux (wonderful man, balding, yet still ruggedly handsome, suffered a major heart attack at a young age and the telling of that story is frickin fascinating)
Cindy Monceaux (all time favorite cousin, we almost drowned together in Mexico, which is a special bonding moment)
Roseanne Monceaux (also all time favorite cousin, she gave me $40 bucks for a buy in at Hawaiian Gardens Casino when I was broke. I love that woman)
Richard Monceaux (unable to attend funeral but a very bald man who is a very cool cousin of mine. His son attended in his absence and has a very wierd Pittsburgh accent, but a cool young bucka lucka nonetheless)
Patrice Monceaux (she is married so obviously has another name, I have no idea what that name is. however her husband is quite cool, and she has two very pretty daughters)
Nadine Monceaux (for some reason I’ve always kinda thought of Nadine as a hippy (Ish). She is a lovely very cool and very hot cousin of mine. but yeah i dunno why she reminds me of the beatick movement in all its glory)
Yvette Monceaux (two lovely daughters and she’s a lovely lady herself. saw her ex husband today (steve) i haven’t seen him in years. so that was cool.
Just kidding. I been sleepy sleeepy slleeeeeeepppy little boy today cuz I stayed up most of the weekend working on some art. I never really got it when I was younger. I heard alot of stories about how artists suffered anonymously for their entire lives, living in poverty, afflicted with demons of all kinds. I scoffed. I really did. I was like, “pfffff, he cut off his ear? what a homo!”.
maybe thats a bad example. I don’t want to scare anybody away lol. but i feel like i am literally killing myself….sacrificing my health to the god of art. its hard to explain. i stay up way too late…..way way way too fucking late. i sacrifice too much, i ingest solvents and eat paint and take drugs and light cigarettes just cuz i want the ashes to smear on some bitches eye to get a quick shadow on a canvas.
way more shit then that. i just woke up so i’m not making sense which is great for my first entry on this horrible wordpress blog that i was shamed into beginning by an insane woman named Michelle Manire. as if i don’t already spend way too much time doing this type of madness.
duh…i am an idiot. but once i’m dead watch out. i’ll be a famous idiot plucked out of the ashes of obscurity by the fickle god of popularity. my future generations fortunes are assured.
good night now. i am literally starving and its time for some nourishment other then marlboro lights, insanely hot bloody mary mix and sour patch kids.
Anthony Mandich Artist-Sycophant-Narcissus’ younger hotter
Little did I realize that I had a post already. Funny. I don’t remember posting a Hello world entry. Must have been a typo, if I was thinking correctly it would have been Hell World. That’s a direct reference to the state and condition of the hovel I refer to as my art studio/bedroom.
In retrospect I’m quite pleased that an entry exists that I can edit because I want to take a second and let my three readers know what is going to be going on in this here jaunt through cyberspace. First my name is Anthony Mandich. I am the king. Of my room.
I was talked into beginning this from a friend named Michelle Manire, a self professed genius who is carving her own little slice of fame and fortune out of the internet. Since our paths don’t directly cross, and I don’t feel she is a threat to my continued rise out of obscurity I can give her props.
She will live to regret encouraging me like this. Giving me a license to say what I want to say is like giving a skid row bum the keys to the liquor store. Not a good idea.
Quickly….art, poker, females, underdogs, Delara Darabi, Lin Zhao, Steve Jacobson, Briar Scragg, Ciara Mandich, Anthony Mandich, drugs, injustice, the system, Full Tilt Poker, Mike Matusow and Tom Dwan, Josh Erlenmeyer, Sister Kitty Lee, Heather Paulhamus, chick music, retarded and juvenile behavior, punk rock, my hair, how sexy I think I am, me, Anthony Mandich, Norco Living, Australia, New Zealand, skateboarding, the smell of pot, how much I hate pot, degeneracy, (wow that’s a word?), Photoshop, Brenda Bayne, Partnership for a Drug Free America, tattoos, strippers, being defriended, pains in my neck from being on the computer too long, Nada Hussein, Commerce Casino, Hawaiian Gardens Casino, Sean Stenlake, poker heads up in my room, sick gambling addictions, Charles McEldowney, loyalty, throwing under the bus, Melbourne, Ariana Parker, sex, chicks, sycophancy, (wow thats a word?), mirrors, obsession with, baths at 3 am, posers, EDD, Andrew Justice, Bar Europa, Mr. Mary’s, Hotel Clarendon, Natalie Mandich, Walmart, Bodog, Sportsbook.com, internet gambling, Palm Pixi by Sprint, Uncle Gordon, living in squalor, Danna Mason, Laura Jean, Radiohead, Air, Nelly Furtado, gay, tagged photos, deliberately obtuse people, pompous pontificating blow hards named Anthony Mandich, talented people who waste their lives, squandering thousands, tilt, anger, frustration, pride, Satanthony, God, Jesus Mary and Joseph, Creepy Rodney, San Manuel Casino, up all night, LA, methamphetamines, Andrew, bridge burning, people on their death bed looking at me and asking if I’m still alive with incredulous looks on their faces, Penny and James, Charlotte (gag me), Ella Hughes, Andre from NZ, Andre from Australia, Stellar Bar, Rancid, Crowne Casino, TSA, November Clothing, KR3W, Angel Cabada, Chris Franz, Clay my brother, Chip Davies, Heather Davies, Uncle Mike, gambling roots, psychobabble, the homosexual community, running out of gas, Wellington, Maya Bar, Lyall Bay, haters, fucking them up, Candace my lost hot girlfriend, cell phone scams, being an idiot loser, Supersuckers, Jason Rhodes, sisters of friends who I always wanted to fuck, pigeons, sleeping in the kitchen, Ice, P, Glass, Jamie Vendivel, prison mentality, murderers, hell bound evil fucks, being politically correct, apathy, William Kerr, Toorak, the model Jane Wise, drug smuggling, Jim Waataja, floormen, MMA, UFC, TapouT, Ian McCall, the Navy, SEALs training, drunk driving, CHP officers who let you off because they know your siblings, driving when awake for 3 days, seeing the sun come up, the ocean, cruise ships, The Humpers and Scott Drake, the Angels in 2002, Costa Mesa, Holly, ex girlfriends I’d like to fuck again, everything unholy, good kids, bad kids, knowing the difference, genuine bohemians, self absorbed jackasses, beer and why I hate it, cocktails and why I love them, reasons I have to leave now cuz Creepy Rodney is here….
Those are just some of the topics and more that I will be expounding upon in the coming days. Enjoy faithful readers. Bye Bye.
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–Forwarded Message Attachment– From: firstname.lastname@example.org To: email@example.com; firstname.lastname@example.org; Emily1Bail@aol.com; HiCathee2@aol.com; email@example.com; firstname.lastname@example.org; MANDJP@DSLEXTREME.COM; email@example.com; firstname.lastname@example.org; email@example.com; firstname.lastname@example.org Subject: Charles Date: Thu, 11 Aug 2005 00:53:19 -0700
Date: 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