In 2017 the author, aging so slowly that whispers began to permeate regarding his nefarious dealings with the devil, decided that it was time to call in all of the favors he had managed to squirrel away over a decade of decadance and begin his own personal crusade to wring out every drop of life from his life, becoming a hero of some kind and getting all the chicks, while saving the world.
To be honest the details were a little sketchy still but the combination of PMA, boner pills, a harsh workout regimen and tons of mangos was beginning to become impossible to ignore and fascinating to be a part of.
You are lucky enough to enter this sordid yet enthralling world with Anthony X. Mandich, and at the very least, bear witness to his indomitable spirit, dashing good looks, plethora of lady callers and fierce fighting skills in the coming months.
Allegations of impropriety between Anthony X. and Dracula’s bride still persist but in this day and age a simple vampire encounter resulting in immortality is not interesting or controversial enough to make the jaded citizenry of the greater Los Angeles area even take notice of let alone talk about and this allows for Mr. Mandich and his cohorts to enjoy some much appreciated anonymity while the details of his crusade are being finalized.
Note to self: refrain from scrubbing tubs, tables, walls, floors, sinks and buckets over the course of two to three days of delirious stopping and starting under the red hot sun while wearing cotton socks and Nike Running Shoes unless you want to be forcibly and very involuntarily awakened from said delirium purely due to the shock both visual and olfactory of your feet when you finally do have to remove the socks and shoes in order to make it to a prearranged appointment. That sounds like an affectation to me. Let’s strike it from the record and move on. Well, lets talk about it a little first. I’m sitting in the bathroom on my laptop typing this and I’m still trying to come to grips with how closely the smell inside this small enclosed bathroom resembles the unforgettable horror stench that permeated my nostrils that day in 2002 at my penthouse in Downtown Long Beach when I allowed a homeless African American drug addict named Kevin to get cleaned up in my bathroom. The pad smelled like death for days after and I’m starting to panic, hoping that nobody else gets a whiff of the sour, C02 poisoned air in here and realizes that I, Anthony Mandich am responsible their singed nostrils. My feet smelled like rained on rotten trash when I peeled off my shoes and socks a few hours ago. The shoes that are still sitting on the tiled floor not three feet from where I am typing away at this story.
I’m afraid that it will be impossible to wear those shoes again without subjecting myself to an olfactory experience forged in Hell by Satan’s demons. Fucking gross. Now matter how engrossed in my work I am, in the future, once the feet get wet and I am wearing socks and Nikes, they need to be taken off and disinfected immediately. The alternative is bad enough that if John Monceaux, my cousin and the man who owns this house that I call home, happens to walk anywhere near this bathroom before I remove the offending shoes from the house, I will be homeless once again.
With that being said, I am going to sign off of this post and correctly rectify the situation voluntarily. Thanks for reading.
My daughter just gave me a hug from Barbie a second ago. Unfortunately Barbie has some hard plastic limbs and she inadvertently stabbed me in the neck. There is quite a lot of blood pouring out of my carotid artery as I type. Hopefully I can stem the flow a little bit, buying me at least enough time to write a proper entry here. Its been a minute. Its hard as fuck to concentrate on this shit though because my same three year old kid is sitting here asking me if the socks that she just picked up off of the floor are from Frozen. She is also asking me if I can find her shoes. She is also going through all of the drawers of clothes that I just put away yesterday when I cleaned up this fucking nightmare room. Her purpose in tearing through the drawers is ostensibly to find proper attire for Barbie. You see, we are getting ready to go to the store together to find buy some Pullups because she is still having issues with potty training and can’t really be trusted to be completely diaper free just yet. Her biggest issue seems to be not taking a shit in her panties everyday. Luckily for me the shits she is taking are pretty firm in consistency and don’t really cause that much of a mess which is a good thing. It kind of keeps my sanity intact for one more day if you know what I mean. If you know what I mean really then I feel sorry for you because nobody should ever really have to relate with my nutty life. Now I have the adorable little child standing next to me going through my little sketch pad and asking me about every single thing that I have ever drawn in there and asking me who each person is. The problem is she is not satisfied with answers like, “oh its a little man” or “its a little doggie”. Then she wants me to draw an itsy bitsy spider for her. She loves that little itsy bitsy fucking spider so much that I have to draw her another one. Now I’m starting to lose my focus if you know what I mean. Of course! We just fucking went through that whole thing I forgot. I’m ignoring her so she is getting more desperate for my attention, telling me that she needs to go into the shower, which she just got out of. I ignore that so she starts pushing me and saying daddy a few dozen different ways. Stone face so she starts really pushing me and calling me by my Christian name which happens to be Anthony.
I forgot I was even writing this. Its like 4 hours later and we went to Walmart together (Daddy and Daughter) and got boisterous for a little while. We were both just amazed at “how cute” every single product that had a tie into the Frozen movie was. That’s what Audrey said literally about every single thing she recognized from that blasted movie that fucking Walmart had stocked on their shelves, in special displays all over the fucking store, next to the elevators, escalators, entrances and exits, restrooms, dressing rooms you name it. I actually was amazed…she just thought each thing was so cute and of course she wanted one of everything in the store. She was cracking me up so I did get her a couple of things and using my mind manipulation techniques I was even able to convince her that her Pampers Pull Ups were a special treat. What we settled on for her were a pair of shoes with lighted heels and special pics of Frozen princesses Elsa and Anna. I was considering shoplifting the fucking things to see if I still had it but ultimately decided to leave well enough alone and even though the shoes were safely on baby girl’s feet and the upc price tag safely ensconced in the box containing my new mma hand wraps, when I was paying at the register I made a point out of making sure that the semi attractive cashier (Debbie I think) rang the shoes up. They were $15.87 by the way. We also got her a mini basketball which she picked out. It was neck and neck between the mini basketball and oddly enough a football (no soccer but football like the NFL football). She had never previously shown any interest in or knowledge of the fact that football even existed prior to tonight as far as I know so I was kinda tripping on the interest in the football to begin with.
In case you were really fascinated by our shopping trip and you want to know what I purchased for myself, too fucking bad. The only reason I am still working on this article is because I am getting ready to go running in a few minutes but first I need my piece of shit phone to charge up enough that I can listen to my fucking Spotify punk rock motivational crap and have my Runtastic app remain open on and running for my entire run so I don’t get cheated out of mileage and times like always happens because something stupid like not having a properly charged phone battery rears up hisses and fucks up my mojo for that day. It never fails to happen when I am on a personal best pace on a day with heavy mileage being run, a day I would be able to use as bragging evidence via a screen shot that I use whenever some body that is not dead and also knows me but hasn’t spoken to me for one reason or another for six months invariably gets to chatting and asks me the innocuous sounding “so what have you been up to”? and I use that as my opening to bore the tears out of another apathetic winner from my past, present, or future. Anyways yeah not having a fully charged phone can really come back to bite a guy in the ass in these circumstances.
I’m wearing a really homosexual looking Adidas athletic suit thing right now which is not very flattering especially with the pooch belly I still have even after running 1,367 miles since October 6th of last year. I think it might even be unwashed in fact I’m pretty sure it is. And its not mine. I found it in the barn at my cousins house in Los Angeles and I’m reasonably certain that it belonged to my cousin Dayna’s soon to be ex husband. He is a cross fit guru allegedly ranked number two in the USA at one point. Anyways my cousin John gave me permission to keep the ugly stinky article of clothing and the funny thing is I don’t think he really had/has the authority to be giving away another man’s homosexually slanted gay pirate muscle suit thing. But he did. And I accepted it because I wanted it and I really don’t know why. Maybe I enjoy dressing like a gay. I’m pretty sure I do in certain aspects but that’s not a subject to get into right now.
I’m well aware that I am coming across as a mental defective and I’m really not one I don’t think but I have to admit being somewhat enamored with the whole stream of consciousness that can come pouring out of my fingertips almost without even trying at certain times. Real talk for a second and I just made this mental connection that the reason for my sauciness tonight is that I have been power watching past episodes of Shameless on Netflix and Showtime on Demand for the past few days and if you watch Shameless you know that basically every character is larger than life, smartasstic horny drug taking hedonist sado masochistic and kind of bad overall yet they fascinate me. Lip is especially cool and I want to fuck Fiona badly.
In case anyone cared or didn’t know I have relocated out of the Temecula Elsinore Casino Meth Capitalistic Inland Empire Bro Prison White Trash Desperado Probation Parole Headquarters to the lovely confines of Los Angeles which has all of that and more but is infinitely more interesting, diverse, busy and I have to think educated in a certain way that is part money and culture but also street smart mixed with school smart mixed with mostly transplanted out of towners from all over the world melting pot with history and millions of stories waiting to be wrenched from the surroundings where they lie. Temecula in particular has nowhere near the historical appeal of someplace like Hollywood and I would be lying if I didn’t admit to being very happy that I am out here. I don’t have any sort of permanent thing going on here but I am working towards having something that makes sense to a higher percentage of those with their crazy lives somewhat in control.
Hopefully it will all work out for me and little Audrey out here near Tinseltown. Who knows maybe I can get her a part in some sitcom or some shit. She is a little charming actress fake crier extraodinaire already so we shall see. Along those lines, Ed Harris and his wife (I think) are filming some kind of something at the property where I currently reside. I’m not going to be more specific than the greater Los Angeles Area and its not because I don’t want any of you to know where I am but out of respect for the people who are nice enough to let my daughter and myself sleep here temporarily. Its nice to have a bloody roof over my head and to know my daughter is safe.
I’ve lost my focus here obviously so I am going to cut this post now and if you are lucky I may just publish it in the next five minutes so one or two of you can read along and send some good vibes and thoughts my way. Any girls that want to fuck, I’m down as of right now. Private message me and I will give you my cell phone number. If I have a girlfriend down the road shortly and she is reading this let me take a quick moment to apologize. I’m sorry honey (whoever you are) I’m just lonely and often really horny. So yeah. I have gotten with a few very hot little mamas since arriving in Los Angeles. I’m not going to out them on this forum but trust me we are talking about some primo female flesh. Just counting my blessings.
Steve Jacobson, Josh Erlenmeyer, Elijah Brown, Kris Cass, Steve Bultsma and others have promised to meet up with me out here in Los Angeles and thus far have not made the attempt. I can understand why for Steve and Elijah who both think I will be an over the top distraction for important women in their lives. Josh will eventually get in touch and Kris Cass and Stevie will too. Faith in humanity and faith in friends. You gotta have that shit if you are going to have a happy life. I gotta go running now. I have four miles of warm ups and warm downs with 8 sprints of a half mile thrown in the middle. 45 seconds of rest after each sprint is not nearly enough so I really gotta go motherfuckers.
Thank God (that’s what you are probably muttering to yourself under your breath if you made it this far)
I dedicate this post to the memory of Charles McEldowney. I love you Charlie. Hopefully I can hump your girl Mia too. That would be lovely.
When I was 14 years old I received a horse for Christmas from my parents. I had been riding horses as much as possible since I turned 11. There was a horse in Mexico named El Bayo that I used to rent and ride whenever possible. His name was pronounced like caballo which is Spanish for horse. I made a little song in Spanish about him and it went like this: Tengo un caballo, su nombre es el Bayo. El Bayo was a bay gelding with a white mark on his forehead and four white hoofs. I would pay $5 USD to the skinny cowboys that ran the little horseback riding outfit that was located pretty close to the area where my Aunty Monica would take all the kids every summer on vacation. We would often stay for the whole summer almost. It was rad. I would get so black it was amazing. My cousins Glenn, Mikey, Donna, Richard, Mark, Joey, Nelson, Rachel, Charlene, Cindy Lou, Timmy, Mitchell, my sister Natalie, and various others would be down there getting pretty crazy. Anyways, El Bayo’s owners put up with me for some reason even though I was a very annoying kid. I learned a lot of Spanish from them and I really loved El Bayo. He was very fast and I used to run him on the beach all the time it was seriously totally cool.
Riding El Bayo part of the year wasn’t enough after a while so I started pestering my parents to get me a horse of my own. Since we lived in the boondocks on Compton Avenue in Corona, it was actually legal for us to own a horse if we wanted one so that was a plus in my eyes. I pretty much hated everything else about living in that house at 18430 Compton Avenue so I figured that having a horse would in some way make up for the unhappiness that pervaded my existence. Somehow I managed to stay on the reasonably good side of my dad that year although it was a challenge. I just walked on eggshells and kept my mouth shut for the most part and on Christmas Day with a bunch of relatives on hand to witness it, I put the snaffle bit on my horse with no name, and the bareback pad and I took him across the street from our house which was just a a big old field and took him for a ride.
That ride was a ride through hell. My horse was an Appaloosa gelding and he was pretty fucking wild. Skittish and really big and powerful and scary actually. I rode him about two hundred yards one way in the field and then when I turned him around he totally bolted. It was scary as hell and when we started approaching the street and all my relatives who had gathered to witness my triumphant ride I could see that he was not going to slow down no matter how hard I pulled on the puny snaffle bit in his mouth. It didn’t have any effect at all and lo and behold I was flying off of his back and landing on my own. Seeing stars, I got up and gingerly walked into the house defeated and sad. That was the way my life went back when I was younger.
I was shuffling slowly around the casino floor half asleep at 3 a.m. (3 hours ago) dead in the water and pretty pissed off at myself and the Aztec Temple machines that took somewhere around $4,000 off of me in the previous six hours. My hopes weren’t high for obtaining any money at that late hour on a slow Friday morning but then miraculously I saw a familiar face and I screamed, “Paula!!” Paula was the lady friend of this guy named Frank. Frank is a 65 year old fellow who has money. I’m not really clear on where his money comes from but he literally does have a good bit of it. I’ve heard a couple of different stories about the source of funds. One of them is that he bought a thousand or so shares of Berkshire Hathaway stock back when a share was somewhat affordable at $5,735 a share. We’re talking 1990 era. Now a single share of Mr. Buffett’s stock is like $214,000. That would explain Franks source of cash. Another story that I heard from this chick named Lissa Giles is that Frfank invented keyless entry. That seems a bit farfetched to me but who knows. I can’t really refute it since I have not done any research on the claim and actually I don’t even know Frank’s last name. In any event 65 year old Frank and I have a little bit of history together. He is actually a really cool guy who I have sort of followed around the casino chatting up during the many periods where I have been so fucking broke and desperate that it was almost paralyzing me. When I very first met him I noticed right away that he liked young pretty girls, girls that had a bit of a hard edge to them, whether they were official hookers or just gamblers who would fuck for a bankroll or whatever, Frank liked them. He gave these little bitches hundred dollar bill after hundred dollar bill and I was immediately jaded and jealous of the fact that these chicks had pussies. They even managed to be stuck up and arrogant in that way only someone with cash can act toward someone with zero cash. Anyway old Frank was a big fan of the dollar slots with five reels and nine lines where you could bet up to $45 a spin and the variance was fucking massive. Thousands of dollars, small fortunes for just about everyone else on the planet were literally being lost and won and lost again in a matter of 60 seconds to five minutes. If you managed to push cash out after you won a spin that paid you $1,111 instead of playing it down to nothing again 90 seconds later and being forced to stuff crisp new $100 bills in the fucking thing then you could make money. Streaks where you win several thousand are commonplace. Just as commonplace though are the streaks where you lose several thousand. The losing streaks seem to happen quicker than the wins. They are infinitely more painful than the pleasure derived from the wins. For one thing it is painful as fuck to feed all those hundred dollar bills that look so beautiful in your new Roberto Cavalli wallet into the 12 year old slot machine and not get one thing in return so it seems like the stupidest fucking decision only a block head moron idiot suicidal piece of shit dunce would make. The wins though are not a pile of hundreds appearing in your hand. No they are just a digital number, one that causes undue concern that it doesn’t disappear, located in the top left or bottom left corner of the screen. Its absurdly simple to lose thousands of dollars that exist only in the form of that digital number on the screen because it is often hard to see the reality of that number in its real money real world counterpart either currency like 20s and 10s and fives and hundreds and fifties or in merchandise or rent paid or cars or pussy or clothing or so many other things that I desperately need on a daily basis but do not possess because I am a compulsive gambler without any financial security or nest egg whatsoever. Literally the cash I have at any one moment is the only cash that keeps me from being in abject poverty, a street bum without a penny. Good god how I do go on. Like Scarlett O Hara in Gone with the Wind I just love to hear myself talk or type. So back to Hank.
Like I said I was broke as shit and I saw Paula who is Franks girlfriend. She is about 45 and good looking. Good looking enough that I would like to fuck her. I heard she used to be a hooker and I can believe that but I like hookers so that is not a disparaging remark as far as I’m concerned. Anyway she led me to Frank who was in the high limits room playing the Indian Pyramid game which was anywhere between 15-150 dollars a spin. I arrived he had $700, within 4 seconds he had $1500 and Paula was telling him to cash out because they had a 4 am breakfast appointment to purchase some meth I think or that is the impression I got. Anyhow Frank is a real asset to me in times like this because he has a sexual appetite that is very healthy; however like many other men in his age group I’m pretty sure he is erection challenged and I have the cure for that in the form of chewable sildenafil citrate (Viagra) that I buy from a friend of mine for $1.50 per pill and I turn around and sell them for a minimum of $5 each. Which is a good profit margin but an overall material total amount only if I can sell 40 pills or 60 pills and only Frank buys them in that quantity basically whenever I see him and he has some cash. That’s a $300 shot in the arm at the witching hour where I would say 99/100 people that go bankrupt at that time are dead in the water and will need to get to stepping the fuck out of the casino. A good opportunity to make yet another run at fortune and fame to be sure. One of several hundred mini opportunities I have been blessed enough and privileged enough to receive during my casino career. As often happens on Aztec Temple I was quicker than shit down to the last hundred dollars bill and down to the end of that hundred to boot. I think I had less than $18 left total when I hit the free games and then a bunch of queens and then some aces and then free games again and before I knew it I had over $1,200 in the machine which was a miracle. A real miracle. I had gathered up $2,500 earlier and very quickly got it up to $4,000 and then turbo speed lost every penny of it in two ill-advised donation sessions on a .25 Aztec Temple game and a $1 Aztec Temple game. From $4,000 (which originated out of nowhere) back to the nowhere from which it originated in honestly a 20 minutes session in the high limits room and a two hour session at the quarters by the north cashier. Dejected rejected sad as fuck just like I explained above. So 1,200 was a miracle. Why then did I stop by and throw every single dollar I had just won (cashed out exactly $1,000 from that Aztec Temple game) into the nickel Where’s the Gold and that other stupid game with the blue dots as the free game getters that come on the first three reels. The losing quickly got out of hand for a paltry $1,000 bankroll and I desperately sunk ten one hundred dollar b ills in either one or the other with neither of the piece of shit machines hitting even a win of $100. On where’s the gold I got the free games after spending like $500. I got two wilds and five free games which would have been hundreds of dollars of payback at any other time but this time it fucked me hard and I won like 350 nickels or some stupid ass fuck shit like that. Long story short I lost that whole grand like a fucking toxic samurai warrior and it’s so tragic that I have to laugh. That’s where I sit right this second at 7:08 a.m. on Friday April 24th, 2015. In my room at Pechanga typing this entry out on the laptop I got for $160 bucks from the same asshole named Devin who sold me a stolen Honda Accord which got confiscated by the police and nearly put me and my baby mama Clarice in jail for a slew of felonies. This is the same Devin that I was informed yesterday started licking Clarice’s bloody pussy one night in the motel room I paid for in Valencia for Clarice and my daughter Avondra. She said it felt good when she woke up so she went with it and let him fuck her too. There are so many aspects of that story that make me want to really hurt Devin very badly. He’s got a lot of nerve to put it mildly. I didn’t even ask Clarice what Devin was doing spending the night in the room that was in my name to begin with. Not to mention what gave him the mental green light to somehow get Clarice’s pajamas and panties off of her while she is sleeping and just start going to town on her pussy. How is that considered okay by anyone in this day and age? I don’t really think that it could have possibly gone down like that but I tell you what I’m going to find out how it went down because I’m going to go find Devin today and have a talk with him. After I have a little discussion with him, I then plan on challenging him to a bit of fisticuffs and hopefully I will prevail since I have taken so many mental MMA lessons. You know…each time I watch the UFC fight night on Fox or an old Pride Fighting Championships classic like Shogun Rua vs. Quinton Rampage Jackson; I am taking mental notes and really studying technique. Mentally only though. Not physically. I’m hoping this will be enough to get my 46 year old nonsmoking self through a street fight with a 27 year old ex-convict druggie hustler dude like Devin intact with me actually coming out on top and bloodying up his face a bit and thoroughly humiliating him as much as I can. Just a little side note that you might find interesting. Clarice has this friend named Doris who is a silly bitch to be sure but kind of hot in a way. Flabby out of shape stretchy skin but pretty face but poisoned mind big time. Toxic as fuck but yet I do kind of like her as a friend at the same time. It’s hard to explain. Anyway, Doris and Clarice have been friends for about two years and in that time Clarice has had affairs with three of Doris’s current at the time boyfriends. Mike Cook, this dude named Dreaddie and now Devin. Doris actually has a kid or two with Devin. That’s neither here nor there but suffice to say that Clarice really likes Doris’s taste in guys. So much so that she has let all of them fuck her multiple times. I don’t know if Doris is just a really good Christian friend disguised as a druggie hustler Valencia bimbo or what but good for Clarice who is getting shown what unconditional love in the form of Doris’s friendship is really all about. I sincerely admire Doris for being so cool about it. There is a lot more to all of these little topics I have brought up here. Believe that. In Clarice’s case for instance I have done a lot of things to push her towards fucking everyone who gets a sniff of her. I’ve fucked girls hooked up with guys and cheated in many different ways and my story is even uglier than Clarice’s which is pretty fucking ugly. None of that has much to do with me being broke right now except it does at the same time because I really need to give Clarice some cash today for food for Avondra and whatever else and I just had $4,000 lost it and then got it back to a healthy $1,200 and lost that and now I have nothing again but this two hour long creative writing exercise. I’m going to go ahead and post it on my blog I think. People don’t need to know all this shit about me and my life but so what if they do. I’m just a tragically underperforming actor in my own screen play but I still deserve to be heard if someone wants to listen.
I haven’t written the great American novel. I haven’t written any novels at all. I’m too fucking scatter brained, unfocused, lazy, tragically unprepared and apathetic to get really serious about writing a book. Plus my girlfriend smashed my brand new HP Pavilion laptop back in September of last year. That put a real damper on my cam4 career as well as any true aspirations of becoming a writer of note. My blog was really cool or so I thought but after the whole Aaron Jacob Parsons situation unfolded I kind of grew lazy about blogging too. For a guy with just a wordpress.com blog, I felt like maybe I had reached the pinnacle of my internet glory when I got over 12,000 hits in a day, and all the major sites like Liveleak, Reddit, 4chan, youtube showed the video and also had links to my post.
I wasn’t going to beat that story with my usual fodder thats for sure. Suddenly, “the hottest ass”, “catholic school hotties” and “everything you ever wanted to know about anthony mandich” just didn’t seem like it was going to grab the readers by the throat and hold their interest. It was too depressing to think about going back to 100 hits a day on a good day and I met this chick named Christina, got caught up in her life, realized how shitty and basically unlivable my own life was and just didn’t have time for blogging anymore. There’s no money in it for me that’s for sure. I’m not smart enough to figure out SEO techniques. Hell, I couldn’t even afford to renew krashthrills.com after the initial one year period, forcing me back to a free wordpress.com account. Lame.
You wanna know what’s also lame? I remember back when I was getting hot and heavy about writing posts all the time a couple of years ago how I always thought it was a shame that I was too much of a pussy to really get real about my life and say shit like it is. I would think of the people in my life who would read with horror what life is really like on the streets when you don’t got shit and how they would be so ashamed of me if they knew the kind of life I was living. Well it’s even worse today. There are people, plenty of them, who are haters and who would love to have the kind of dirt on me that I wish I had the balls to provide for them. Unfortunately I am not going to be able to do that and I apologize. I have a job today and I am looking for a better one and I know for a fact that employers look at the internet lives of the people that they are considering hiring and they certainly don’t want to read about how their newest senior accountant just spent the last 70 hours straight at the casino playing Cleopatra Keno instead of resting up and preparing himself mentally for the KPMG audit he has to provide support for starting Monday. That shit doesn’t fly.
I wanna tell you why Lake Elsinore is home to a bunch of pussies anyway. And I will. But it’s 1:41 p.m. and my lunch hour is over. I have packing slips I need to match up with invoices and checks to write and spreadsheets to update before 4:00 p.m. when my real day begins.
me and my kid are two peas in the pod and i’m not sure that that (double negative?) is that good of a thing. cuz i’m a bad kid and i’m learning tonight that ciara’s pretty bad too. we were sitting here, where we are now in front of this computer while ciara pulled out her laptop and set it on a chair right next to me and we started doing what we do. but the thing is i didn’t quite know what it was that ciara did before tonight. so let me tell you about it okay. ever heard of some site called omegle.com? yeah me neither until tonight. its this site where you go on there and you are automatically talking live to a stranger. okay well first of all that should be setting red flags all over the fucking place which it was. i had visions of cho mo’s talking to my kid trying to sway her their way which i’m happy to say i don’t have to worry about anymore. why cuz my kids the troll. my fifteen year old straight a student daughter is an internet meme. lol. check out this little snippet of conversation between ciara and murilo on omegle. which she had no shame in writing right in front of me.
isn’t that lovely. my daughter is now a papi’ to a proud bouncing little 18 year old man named murilo. strange strange world we live in where father daughter bonding comes in such a unique little package. ummm i mean i even had to steal one of her little tumblr blog posts check this out. isn’t it endearing and heart warming? the story of a ten year old’s unrequited love. really charming and almost chicken soup for the soul. the soul of the devil.
now we are wrapping up the bonding experience for the night. this time i think we are going to go without the cinnamon challenge which we undertook a few weeks ago. hey if you want to relate to your kids these days you gotta dig deep dude. these kids are crazy.
she wanted me to put a different picture in there but i like that one with the dogs. okay this is my first post on my new domain which is krashthrills.com ……i lost the wordpress that used to be in my name. kinda rolls off the tongue right. okay so i gotta give a shout out to ciara alabama mandich and her blog which is vellvetdaze.tumblr.com
got such a yearning for some completely ethereal woman goddess to come steal my soul and force me to worship her. its like this ache that is more than sexual. i mean obviously although i have tried to talk to myself into believing that one of the many girls from my past was meant to be my destiny none of them actually were. that makes me super sad in a way but also really relieved and happy in a way too. maybe it was all my fault in each and every doomed relationship but so be it man. whatever the case may have been i was obviously not content enough to conform to the unspoken boundaries that i know and they knew i was confined to. no matter what the reason was for my deliberate hard headed stubborn way of living the bottom line remains the same.
my destiny woman, if she even exists which i doubt, but i hope, will be a woman who i can throw my whole being into and who i never have to even care if we are at home or out living in the forest by ourselves or in a big city because she so fully captivates me and i her that the rest of the world ceases to exist in any meaningful way. the one. everybody talks about the one. do they even know what they are saying what they are hoping for what they are dreaming about.
i have had wondrous nights of incredible leave this planet kind of lust filled sexual frenzy tongue in mouth until lips are chapped can’t get enough of her or her of me. hundreds of those nights with probably a hundred girls. why couldn’t i sustain that zest that passion that look at her always and be horny in my heart and in my pants?
just give me my soulmate make it clear to me that she is my soulmate and let me fend for myself with her. i don’t want riches i don’t want fame (well yeah i do unless i get her) just give me the woman of my dreams who is searching for the man of her dreams and when she dreams she sees my face and touches my lips and i hers. give her to me while i still have time to enjoy her. i want to experience that great love that rare as fuck love the kind that you don’t talk about cuz its so fucking amazing you don’t even have time to brag or boast all you have time to do is stare at her and miss her when she is gone its not an obsession but you can’t live (happily) without being by her side where a weekend away is pretty traumatic.
i will trade it all for her.
woman if you are out there look for anthony mandich and find him before it is too late. universe if it is someone i know now let me know.
I love to data mine. That’s what I call it when a topic takes over my brain interests me and I spend several days hours tracking down every fucking name involved in the story and putting them through every internet search available to mankind. It becomes an obsession and sometimes its probably not the healthiest of obsessions because as much as I like to joke around about the majority of the shit I read on pysih.com, dreamindemon.com, liveleak.com and every other website, there are certain stories that when I read them, I have to read them over and over just to make sure I have the ludicrous and seemingly ridiculously impossible set of facts down because I just can’t really actually fathom that people supposedly created in God’s image can behave so unspeakably disgusting. These are the stories that anger me greatly. Oh I ballyhoo on and on about “off with his head” and “let me guess….florida” and that sort of shit but for the most part those stories only reach me in a place that’s not too terribly deep not because I don’t care but more for the fact that my soul and heart and mind can only feel so much empathetic pain, disgust in the human race and so on. if you let every story stab touch your inner heart then sadly you are going to end up either an emotional and paranoid and distrustful basket case or an unfeeling emotionless apathetic robot. Every man has his limits. And supposedly, allegedly, God only lets a person suffer what He knows a person can take. I want to deny the essential truth in that statement. I want to scream that its fucking bullshit a lie but I can’t because in my narcissistic personal life which is the only life I have, although i’ve been to some koo-koo/koo-koo extreme places in my head due to insane drug use and sleep deprivation circumstances at a given time, so far the statement has held true. I’ve been able to somehow handle and get past everything life has had to offer good and bad thus far. I’m shocked by grateful for that and selfishly I don’t want to test it by getting myself personally emotionally involved in every single tragedy that I read about on the internet. There are just too many stories. Do you feel me? Too fucking many. I don’t try to pick which ones I’m going to get in an uproar about either. They jump out and abduct me like the aliens in War of the Worlds I just read the initial report, do my research and take it from there. The ones that get me, the ones that i feel have the power to destroy me if i let them are few and far between for the most part. They are the ones that almost immediately get my desire to inflict great bodily injury anger slowly building up, usually because a trusted member of a vulnerable and pretty helpless victim does something horrible that I know caused not only terror and fear and pain for a victim but also bewilderment, confusion and disbelief. Always followed by incomprehensible demoralization and ultimately death. Either a trusted member of a family or a complete and utter stranger. I get really really mad and really really sad. And I just want nothing but their heads exploding in microwave ovens horrible things for the perpetrators of these acts. Before i started being physically unable to turn of the fucking computer staying abreast of these sorts of events i could pretty honestly say that i didn’t hate anybody. No matter who had wronged me I didn’t hate them. I have wronged more people then have wronged me and I don’t feel any specific hatred from anybody so why do I have the right to hate anybody. i don’t. so i didn’t. I know this is a long comment and I’m sorry but I just wanted to say that as a result of my interest in the people of this planet who fall victim to pieces of shit and my empathy for them and furious anger at the ones responsible for their always incredibly sad plight, I can now freely admit that I have added “hate” as one of the everyday emotions that I experience. And it really feels like a thousand needles are stabbing my eyes bums me out. As stupid as this may sound, especially if you personally knew me, I feel like i finally grew up and became a fucking adult a big portion of my innocence that was somehow still intact after all these years of asinine stupidity pretty crazy living has been stolen from me by the monsters that I hate. I just want to list the ones that come to mind when I think about hate and i pray for their “Death by a Thousand Cuts” bad bad things to happen to these people. You may not know them all but who cares I am compelled to force you to hear them want to say them. Its all from memory and perhaps a few fervent peeks at google.com so sorry about any errors. unspJohn Gardner killer of Amber Dubois and Chelsea King. Joseph Smith who killed Carlie Brucia on Super Bowl Sunday. Christoper Collins and his Tubbyass partner David Spears who just fucking defy description with the eakables they did against Rowan Ford. Gertrude, Paula, John Baniszewski, Richard Hobbs and Coy Hubbard who killed that poor, poor, poor girl Sylvia Likens. (really hate them so bad), Skylar Deleon and John Kennedy who killed the Hawkes couple in the Newport Beach yacht case (case absolutely fucking horrifies me the way these two were killed) Harold Braddy the bastard who threw that girl Quatisha Maydock into a swamp nicknamed Alligator Alley for obvious reason. Fucking BASTARD. Raul and Cathy Sarinana from Corona who killed, tortured and so much more. the victim? their nephew Ricky Morales who was 11 fucking years old. Sharon Hinojosa the traitor cunt who betrayed her kids and let them burn to save a shitty relationship with some fucking asshole. Russell Williams the Canadian Air Force colonel dude who killed Marie Comeau and some other chick. Scary fucking twisted non feeling bastard. Stacey Joy Bordeaux who killed one son and caused the other to be basically a brain dead vegetable. Omaina Nelson who killed and dismembered her older husband who loved her and trusted her and got killed for financial reasons just a fucking cunt. Tyler Hadley the little fucking bastard from Florida who killed his parents with a hammer. Fucking asshole. James Troutman a 24 year old sicko fuck who killed this girl named Skylar Kauffman, a cute little girl with the nicest smile you will ever see but who got killed at age nine in a horrific murder/rape/beating. Michael King who randomly kidnapped this lovely young wife named Denise Lee, raped and shot her. For no good reason. To be honest I could go on and on and on and it sucks to have such hatred in my heart for my fellow human beings. But I do. I got a sick and twisted glee out of the fact that Christoper Collings that six foot six tall piece of dufus shit fuck got found guilty of capital murder and i can’t wait until he fries or gets injected or hung or shot or whatever happens to him. I just want him to feel fear and pain and humiliation and confusion. I want him to meet the devil with a mind filled with cobwebs and cottage cheese, whimpering like a broken man. I hate him. Sorry to say it but I do.
I’m not too sure how the Encyclopedia Dramatica does it. Their entries all have hundreds of links to all sorts of interesting and exciting content. I can’t imagine how fucking long it takes them to write each of their posts. Kudos to them. Although I can’t claim to know a quarter of the shit about the internet that they do and therefore I am often lost trying to keep up with what they are talking about, starting with any one of their entries is a good fucking way to get fucking lost in internet hell for a day. Or longer. The internet, the real internet, wow….it’s truly a scary place full of hidden gems and content galore and if you don’t have control over yourself (and I don’t) then you can easily find yourself losing whole chunks of time basically doing nothing except filling your head up with knowledge, theories, half assed suppositions, biased reporting on demented and seldom heard of topics, gore and death with a sprinkling of funny, feel good shit but mostly a lot of sex and death to be honest. Okay, so I’m reading the paragraph I just typed out and imagining all of the different psycho locations I could take you guys on just by linking to the words I’ve written and it comes over me that I have quite a bit of power in these attractive hands of mine. If you have read this far then that means I’ve got you on the hook and really its up to me not you where that hook can take you. Do you want to go to heaven or hell? Would you rather get the hell part over with while you are on this mostly hellish planet or do you want to forego all the suffering and experience divinity firsthand while still alive? Good question you say. Or maybe you don’t who really gives a fuck? I don’t because I know that I don’t even have one true fan of my rambling writing. Nope there isn’t even one person out there that can honestly say that they can’t wait for my next post, or that they have read everything I have ever written. Nobody could pass even a simple trivia test based on the many posts that have preceded this one. I don’t even think I could. After all, I was higher then a kite for the majority of the posts on this website and I have never really had the time to go back through and read over every single one of them. I’m not a professional blogger. I don’t get paid jack shit for writing this. I can’t even tell you why I bother writing this (we’re back again to NOBODY GIVES A RAT’S ASS) blog. I know its not fresh or hip or cool. I know I sound like a fool and a tool and most of you wish I would drown in a pool or fall off my stool. Lame. All of it. Lame. The same. Shame. Fame is something I will never get. Yet I seek it. Couldn’t even tell you why but I assume the answer begins with the buzzword Narcissism. Okay listen I’m sorry for sounding so stupid in this paragraph. I’m going to stop with the stupid now and tell you guys a good story . So if you’ve somehow risen above (whatever that means) and made it to this point of this story then you are in luck because you are about to get a true story from the archives of my life.
i just asked batchelder to give me a quote to name my blog post for the day and the best she could come up with is “why you so gay tony”. whatever. it works for me. so i haven’t been blogging lately even though i have been up to so much no good it’s insane but i haven’t even been close to a computer except to do work for my boss tom. so much shit has been going down i feel lucky to be alive and in one piece. drugs complete scandalous sexual liaisons with so many girls all of them crazy hustler chicks who work over dudes on a regular basis but have met their match with me who works over chicks on a regular basis so we all sort of even each other out. i can’t even give you all the names of the chicks because some of them are wanted by the law. this one girl who i have really been seeing quite a lot of is super hot as fuck and really smart but really gangsta as hell and way into really bad drugs. Met her at a casino in the inland empire. She is the only one that I have been with more then twice. i also have met two chicks from hemet at the same casino and had sex with one and just cuddled with the other one. Again not naming names cuz these chicks are sorta like skinhead chicks and they run with a bunch of crazy white power dudes. I’ve met like three of the dudes and they seem cool and all but there is always that element of danger around them and actually around the girls as well. I met a half Mexican half white gang banger chick at the same casino and we had a pretty insane adventure that involved me skateboarding at like 4:30 in the morning to the casino gas station to put five bucks gas in this chicks car so her and her three homies could make it home to Beaumont or banning or Yucaipa I’m not sure which one but definitely one of those three. Anyways I have no record for any kind of drug related offenses and I’m not on parole or probation so I still presumably have my 4th amendment rights which on this night came in pretty handy. I was bombing this rad little hill that leads directly into the gas station showing off for this sexy little mama whose name I will say which is heather. Truly the only reason I was doing this was because for some unknown reason the gas station although physically open was literally closed for ten minutes according to the clerk. So while we waited I skated. Makes sense to me. Well this one cop who had said hi to me like ten hours before while he was patrolling through the casino garage parking lot in his black and white followed me down the hill on my third attempt as I was skating over to this heather chick sitting in the car we were putting gas in. long story short the cop said he was surprised to see someone skating at this time of the morning which I didn’t give a shit about what he was saying because I wasn’t holding anything illegal and like I said I still have my rights. I was totally unconcerned even when he asked me if he could peek at my drivers license. I gladly gave it to him but I noticed out of the corner of my eye that heather was cringing and looking pretty unhappy. Turns out she had been busted for drugs and a bunch of other shit in 2007 and had been to prison and stuff and so she had search terms which basically for all you laymen means that the cops can tear up all your shit looking for contraband without having any reason whatsoever except that they want to. This cop was totally cool with me and with heather actually. But even though they didn’t even search me and basically relegated me to the sidelines where I skated for the next hour, they definitely searched heather and the car she was driving which wasn’t hers. They found a bunch of checkbooks in the car that one of the homies had come across somehow I have no idea about any of that part of the story since I had just met this chick and we were just flirting and shit in the casino. Anyways it was Christmas eve so they eventually let her go but it was pretty close to her being hauled off to jail. Just goes to show you that its pretty important to keep a clean record if you can because it helps when dealing with law enforcement officials. I never got to stick my dick in that heather chick I think she was a little jaded about my skating being responsible for her getting hassled by the man but fuck it she is one of many. And in fact a couple of days after Christmas I met this other heather chick at another casino this time in palm springs and I won’t even tell you the details of what happened but put it this way I met her at 7 pm and I was sticking my cock in her by 8:30 pm and that is no lie and she was a hot little bitch in fact I stuck it in her again on the day after new years so there you go. Well this is just a little tiny smidgen of an update on whats going on with Anthony mandich hero to the degenerates. Oh yeah one more thing props to this website I started checking out last night called the dreamin demon. They have stories of so many fucking assholes who hurt kill destroy and spread their evil around indiscriminately every single day that it makes me feel a lot better about myself. Man, people are really fucked up motherfuckers.
Ian McCall faces Darrell Montague tonight for the Tachi Palace Fights flyweight championship. For those who don’t know, flyweights fight at 125 lbs. Personally, I think its bullshit that the UFC doesn’t yet have a 125 lb. division. At the moment 135 lbs. (Bantamweight) is as low as the UFC goes. Unless you are brain-dead you already know who fights in that division. Guys like Dominick Cruz (who also happens to be the current UFC Champion, Urijah Faber, Brian Bowles, Jeff Curran, Scott Jorgenson and Joseph Benavides.
Although Ian will be crowned champion in an organization called Tachi Palace Fights rather then UFC, early next year the UFC will be adding the featherweight class and Ian will be going to the UFC as Champion in much the same way as Dominick Cruz did in the Bantamweight divison. I am totally biased because Ian is my buddy; therefore Darrell Montague has no chance in this fight hahahaha. No, but really, Ian is a sick, sick fighter, full of confidence, utterly fearless, in shape beyond belief, and ruthless in the cage.
He has an incredible record of 10-2 with his only losses coming against Dominick Cruz (see above where it says current UFC bantamweight champion….yeah that Dominick Cruz). I haven’t seen that fight except for one little snippet but Ian lost that one I guess in a unanimous decision. Nothing to hang his head about on that loss. Cruz is on most pound for pound greatest fighter lists and believe me if you haven’t seen him fight, its an awesome thing to behold. Cruz just ran roughshod over his previous opponent (Urijah Faber…..), and I’ve seen him handle Joseph Benavides who is a bad ass fighter himself, not once but twice. So take nothing away from Ian for losing a fight to Dominick Cruz. Plus it was years ago anyways and it was in the WEC, a breeding ground for all sorts of bad ass fighters. I could name dozens (and so could you probably lol). Ian’s only other loss was also against a tough as nails WEC veteran, a guy who I’ve seen fight on television a bunch of times. I’m talking about Charlie Valencia. That was at WEC 31 (Faber vs. Curran). He lost by submission in that one (I think by guillotine choke but don’t quote me, I’m doing this little blurb from memory and my memory isn’t that great to begin with.
You can do a search on the internet and find some of Ian’s fight videos.
Check them out if you haven’t already. You will agree that he is an edgy, skilled, fearless and very talented fighter. He has years of experience. He has trained ultra hard/smart for this fight and to be honest although I don’t know much about Darrell Montague, I’m picking Ian McCall 100% for this fight. He’s too fucking fast, he kicks too hard, he’s got too much energy and way too many moves for Montague to overcome. Ian actually reminds me a lot of Dominick Cruz. The way he dances around, evading the opponent always, just getting in his kicks, punches, elbows and then escaping is reminiscent of Cruz for sure. Not sure if Ian will be too stoked about me saying that but it’s just my opinion. And I gotta say, Cruz is a bad ass motherfucker and I love watching him fight so its only a compliment to be compared to his stylistically right?
One more thing in Ian’s favor is the fact that he is settling down in life outside the cage. He’s got a hot girlfriend who I think he’s getting married to soon and they are expecting a daughter in the next few months as well. That kind of shit going on in your life is supreme motivation (and maybe a tiny bit of pressure as well). I can see just from the quotes that Montague is sort of looking past Ian like this is going to be some kind of walk in the park, exhibition of whatever and he thinks he’s just gonna win no worries. He’s fucking high if he thinks he is just going for a stroll in the park against Ian. Sorry dude fuck that.
I think Montague is cocky where McCall is confident. Montague reminds me a little of that dude that fought Michael Bisping at the UFC in Sydney a few months ago (UFC 127??). I forgot that dudes name something like Jorge Rivera. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, the point is Rivera was talking madness before his fight with Bisping and was super cocky (not saying Montague is acting like that but I just get that sorta feeling). Anyway Bisping was offended by some of the shit Rivera was doing before the fight and it was what I like to call righteous anger and bottom line Rivera got humiliated big time. He got his ass kicked, it was so rad. Probably a lot of you hate Bisping for some reason but I don’t actually. I like him. I get alone good with Brits and Aussies and that sort anyway but whatever, he doesn’t offend me and yeah he himself did get his head fucking completely handed to him against Dan Henderson. Completely knocked the fuck out which so many people were so happy about. He took it like a man though.
I digress (as usual).
My point is that confidence and belief in yourself is supremely important. When it crosses a line to cockiness and arrogance that’s when people get fucked up. Karma and stuff. I watched a little video that Ian did, an interview with some MMA Expert Guy, it must have taken place like a day ago or something because Mr. McCall looks like he’s at 125 lbs. right now. Anyway, in the interview, even though Ian is joking around and shit, talking about his mustache and keeping his tone light and kinda joking, you can look into his eyes and see how deadly serious he is about this fight. There is no brash cockiness. There is no arrogance. There is just a guy who has prepared himself for his destiny, a guy who has a family to support, a guy who is hungry and knows he deserves to be in this championship battle. That guy is Ian McCall. Tonight we are hopefully going to see Mr. McCall teach Mr. Montague (the villain hahahahhahaha) a lesson about humility and what its like to face a tornado with skills in the ring.
Ian, my friend I wish you luck tonight dude. I sincerely want nothing more than for you to kick some fucking assssssssssssssssssssssssss! Montague supposedly said that Ian is in for a long night tonight. Well, we’ll just see who’s gonna be laying on the canvas praying for the bell.
There are some other fights on the card but I don’t give a shit about them enough to write a bunch of shit that no one is gonna read anyways. To watch Ian’s fight though, you can go to this site http://www.sherdog.com/
If you actually read this, I thank you kindly. I’m publishing it to my blog pre fight so whatever happens there is no bandwagon jumping on or off for me. Ian will destroy and Ian will be champion.
I’m trying to remember exactly how long ago it was when I met Trevor McGrew. I’m thinking I need to backtrack from the present to get to anything resembling an accurate year even. That’s not saying much for my memory I know but shit…it gets a little bit hazy. The easiest way for me to put things in their sorta proper time frames is to base it off of my daughter Ciara Mandich’s age and go from there. I definitely know that Ciara is 14 years old and was born on May 16th, 1997. I found out Heather was pregnant with Ciara sometime in September of 1996ish. I was working at TSA Clothing as Accounting Manager at that time and our warehouse was still at the end of 18th Street in Costa Mesa. I remember that me and Jim Waataja went to some cell phone place on Harbor Blvd. that day and that Heather had given me a little cute letter all folded up that I opened while me and Jim were getting our cell phones.
Not that it matters but the letter said, Dear Tony, It’s true. I have a bun in my oven. Love Heather. Cute huh. I’m chuckling at that right now because what does it really have to do with the topic of this story about Trevor?
I found out Heather was pregnant. That was September of 1996. I was living on Superior right across the street from Hoag Hospital with Jim Waataja. Rene Prospero and Chad Muska also sort of lived there. Chad slept on our couch a lot. Rene had the tiny closet downstairs. That was his room ha ha ha ha. It was literally like six feet deep by three feet wide and he made it into a bedroom and I would always boss him around and tell him to get to his room. We called him Stick Dog. It would be like this:
“Shut the fuck up Stick Dog. Go to your room Stick Dog. Shut the fuck up”.
For some reason he would totally listen and go to his room with his little ass blankets and stay in there. Strange kid.
Again I digress.
I met Jim like five months earlier then that so maybe April of 1996. At that time I still was working like at FHP Healthcare or Talbert Medical Management Corporation and I was living in Huntington Beach. I had just gotten my convertible BMW which was a sick sick car. I lived on Pensacola Circle with this idiot named coincidentally Jim. He was a total moron but fuck that I’m not gonna get into that. Believe me I could but I won’t. Before Pensacola Circle I was on Fern Street in Newport Shores living with Scotty and Gerald. I only lived there for a short time because they had this friend named Monica who sold coke and weed and one night when I was totally fucking wasted I went over to her house and pretty much robbed her. She had this dude there like some friend of hers I don’t remember his name. She wasn’t there. I forgot where I was earlier that night but I’m pretty sure it was like El Ranchito with Trevor McGrew, Joe Huff, Joe Todora and some other dudes. Like I said I was so fucked up. Long story short, the dude didn’t wanna let me in which is totally reasonable seeing that I was fucked up as hell, Monica wasn’t home, and he didn’t know me. Total asshole move by me, I ended up getting into a long and drawn out fist fight with the dude. He was about my size and sober and relatively tough but I think I ended up getting through him and into Monica’s room. She had this jar, like a Mason jar, full of little baggies with one nugget of crip weed in each one but I wasn’t there for that. I hate weed. I wanted coke for sure. I know I didn’t find any coke. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking like I said this was a total bad move by me. I ended up grabbing a couple of twenties of weed that I didn’t even want and fought my way back through the house and outside. By this time Monica was arriving home as I was running down the sidewalk. I lived like one street over from her. Duh. So anyways, the dude I fought with must have told her what I did right.
Pause right there and keep in mind we are in Newport Shores which is totally densely populated as fuck so the ruckus I had caused getting into the room to begin with to steal the chick’s weed that I didn’t even want had woken some neighbors or something and someone called the cops I guess. I don’t know because I never saw them that night I only heard about it the next day when I was so insanely hungover and bumming so hard on my out of control self and the shit I had caused. So as the dude tells Monica that I stole her drugs and I’m hop scotching it the fuck down the sidewalk, Monica, righteously furiously angry is screaming, “That dude stole my drugs……”.
I guess the cops heard that, went into her house, searched it, (she had a warrant anyways, like a bad bench warrant for a third DUI she failed to appear for), found the drugs, arrested her and wow. Just made my stupid drunken idiotic move even that much worse. So yeah bottom line, my friends I lived with who hadn’t even really known me that long to begin with and were totally long time friends with Monica were totally pissed and I had no choice but to run from the scene basically. Luckily I found that place on Pensacola Circle in HB. Otherwise I would have been living on the streets for sure. I’m thinking that must have been maybe January of 1996. Backtrack a little bit more and I was living at 116 37th Street right down in the war zone or fun zone or whatever its called down in Newport. I lived there about 8 months. Insanity for sure. Not even going to tell any stories about that right now or else this won’t even be a story about Trevor you know what I mean. I’m reaching as it is.
So that puts me at when? Like May of 1995 or so when I moved to 37th Street. I moved to 37th from Fern Street. Same street I was living on when I did my big weed heist which got Monica put in jail for like 200 days (MY GOD I felt like such a fucking dick about that). This was Fern Street Part I though when I lived at 202A Fern Street, downstairs from my life long friend Thadius Daniels. I lived with this chick named Carrie Babbitt (who coincidentally hates my guts to this very day for an incident that I wasn’t even involved with but according to her I had the power to stop from happening and failed to do so etc….long story). I probably moved in with Carrie somewhere around August of 1994. Total guess there but I know I was on unemployment after I had already been living there for a little bit and I ended up going to Las Vegas to work doing tile with my friend Conley Massey and this dude named Dirk (Morganstern?). For sure I was living in Vegas with Conley and still had my room with Carrie during the winter of that year because I remember it being cold as shit over there.
So August of 1994 is the approximate time I moved to Fern Street. We’re going to say anyways. Now I had been coming down to Fern Street for maybe 3 months prior to that and hanging out with Thad and getting wasted etc. So that takes us to about May of 1994.
And thats when I ‘m going to say I met Trevor McGrew. Trevor had a little house right next door to Thad, on the same side of the street and everything. So I guess his address was 204A Fern Street, Newport Beach, California. He was five years younger then me. I just verified that by looking at one of the newspaper articles about his death so that’s a pretty accurate number. He was 36 in 2009 when he died. So minus fifteen years off of that and that puts him at 21 when I met him. For sure he could go to all of the bars because we went to millions of them so 21 is a pretty good number.
Is anyone still actually reading this. I just realized how schizo this story must sound but whatever. I had to go through that little process just to get some kind of a somewhat reasonable estimate of when I met the dude. Damn that was complicated though. Sorry.
Back to Trevor. This is probably one of those stories that if certain people do read it they will totally hate the fact that I’m even writing about him. This is due to the circumstances in which he died. And while I’m definitely sympathetic and understanding of everyone’s point of view about Trevor, how he died has nothing at all to do with my relationship with him or any times I ever shared with him. He totally had an impact on my life in a good way and I loved him for sure so lets just say I’m telling you my own life story and I can’t omit the chapter having to do with Trevor so there it is there.
Trevor was a blond surfer dude with a little gap in between his two front teeth if I remember correctly. He was a good looking guy and had a hot girlfriend named Suzanne Blackburn. They lived together and I can’t remember if they had a roommate or not but I’m pretty sure that they did and it might have been Joe Todora. Don’t hold me to that part though. Anyways Trevor loved to surf and skate and drink and fuck around. He was a wild and crazy dude and totally funny and had millions of friends around Newport and all over. Like a totally popular dude. I had been coming down from Corona to party with Thad and all of our friends most weekends and Trevor was around and I would hang out with him too. I thought he was so fucking cool because…..he was man. Even though I was like this kooky idiot from the Inland Empire and didn’t even live in Newport, let alone Newport Shores, which was such a “locals only” environment, Trevor was still cool as hell. We would get wasted as shit and Trevor would get wild. I mean he was crazy wild. In a good way but still a crazy and kind of scary way. He wasn’t scary in the sense that he was going to get all violent with any of us but he would do crazy shit when he was drunk and he wasn’t scared of jack shit, I mean nothing.
After a just a short time of me going down there to party with Thad, I started hanging out with everybody on Fern Street, not just Thad and our crew from Corona like Gordy, Rick Hagaman, Conley Massey, Mark Hudson, Rob Gubion, Steve Jacobson, Jason Clark, Jason Rhodes, Matt Hopkins, and Frank Colapinto.
These dudes from Newport were nuts and I liked them and definitely wanted to be part of their little crowd. Everybody that lived on Fern Street partied together and went to the bars together and represented the Shores and Fern Street as a little mini kinda gang. Thad was my intro to them all in general but Trevor was the one who made me so easily accepted by everyone who lived down there. Like I said, Trevor didn’t care where I was from. Me and him got along super super super good and hung out all the fucking time. He was definitely like a made man in Newport, liked and accepted by everyone, questioned or harassed by no one. No one fucked with Trevor period. He just had it like that. Chicks loved him, dudes loved him, he had all kinds of fans. I was always with him so nobody fucked with me either which was cool because I didn’t know nobody, I didn’t grow up there and I just wanted to fit in and have a good time.
Trevor made that happen for me and I loved him for it. Here’s a quick run down of who else lived on Fern Street at that time okay. So there was Dave and Isaac and Joe Todora and Joe Huff and Joe Huff’s girlfriend who was so fucking hot my God I would have given anything to be naked with her. There was Jason Haught, and he was another one that had all the charisma and good looks and surfing ability and chicks and friends and I hung out with him alot too. Jason is a way cool dude. He was with this French Canadian chick named Marie Claude. She was hot as fuck too with no makeup either and she barely understood English, she was just visiting Newport and fell totally in love with Jason. He had it like that. All of the chicks fucking LOVED that guy. He worked at Mutt Lynch’s as a bar back and girls were constantly throwing themselves at him. He got laid like EVERY night. I remember this one chick wrote on the back of her business card “Here’s my number, I want your lumber” and gave it to him. I thought that was so fucking cool man.
Jason lived upstairs from Gerald and Scotty with this dude named EP (Eric Peterson). EP didn’t think I was cool I don’t think. He never really liked me. Guessing he thought I was a try hard, Inland Empire kook who didn’t know how to surf and wasn’t local. He was totally right. I still liked him though. Which is neither here nor there actually.
Trevor had tons of friends like I said and not just on Fern Street. All over. It was rad going to parties and bars with Trevor because you felt totally safe. Trevor liked to get drunk and fight. When he got in fights he always won. He kicked fucking ass man. I guarantee that whoever was stupid enough to get it going with Trevor, especially when he was buzzed, regretted it immediately. He was good for a black eye, busted ass lip, broken nose, lumped up head….shit like that. I never saw him back down, or lose a fight. He never started them on purpose though. He also never held a grudge after. You could fight Trevor, get your ass kicked big time, stand around and bleed and feel sorry for yourself for awhile, but when you were ready to talk about it later that same day or whenever, he never held that shit against you. Trevor would be gracious in victory and humble about it hahaha but really it was better to not fuck with him.
Some of Trevor’s friends that I can remember are dudes like Johnny (Stogie), Litzy (Eric Litzenberg), Jeff Lonzway and his chick Gina and his brother Snowy, and this dude Smitty. They all had known each other forever and it was cool just hanging out with all of them and listening to all the shit they got up to and stories they told. We would go down to bars like Mutt Lynch’s, Stag Bar, and especially Cassidy’s. I always felt so cool if I was with the dudes from Fern Street, especially Trevor or Jason. Couldn’t even begin to tell you how many times I got laid just by hanging with them, especially Jason, because Trevor had a live in girlfriend like I said.
This hasn’t been like some kind of glowing testimonial about what a great guy Trevor was and really that’s my fault because he was a great guy, at least to me. He was a good friend and would totally be cool with anyone that wasn’t a pussy and that would be cool with him. He always made sure that I was included in on everything and he made me way tougher of a dude because he wasn’t into being a coward in any way. I remember not long after that night where I dicked out hard and got that Monica girl arrested and basically acted like a piece of drunk shit, Trevor was still my friend and didn’t join in the bandwagon of people calling me a kook and calling for my head. Trust me I deserved that and in my own mind I totally had an ass beating coming if not worse. It never happened but still I deserved it. Even though I deserved to be shunned and scorned, still though, a lot of the people pointing fingers at me were just jumping on the bandwagon. It was such an easy call you know what I mean. I wouldn’t have blamed Trevor if he joined in as well. He had known that girl for years and years and was totally tight with her.
God bless him though, he stuck by me as my friend. Trevor lived to buck trends and do the opposite of what was expected of him. He was rooting for the underdog always and I was grateful that he didn’t turn his back on me then. Like I said, I didn’t deserve that sorta mercy, but I got it from Trevor. And I can never forget that. The only thing about it was that he didn’t want to see me pussing out about it and hiding my face. We went to El Ranchito like two days after it happened and I’m not gonna lie I was scared. I thought for sure I was going to get jumped by Monica’s friends. I didn’t want to go in the place, I was like whimpering to Trevor before we went in, “what if her friends are there, what if they wanna kill me, what am I gonna do????”
He pushed me against the stucco wall. Hard. Right outside the door of El Ranchito. “Don’t be a fucking pussy. Get in there and don’t worry about it”. That kind of set me straight in my head and I went in there like I belonged. Acted like I owned the place like usual. Nobody had the balls to come up and say a word and the whole story died down pretty fast.
Trevor loved salt water fish tanks. So did I. We both were always buying shit for our tanks and competing on who had the raddest coral and coolest fish. While I knew Trevor in those Newport days, he was always a hard working guy, no matter how fucked up he got the night before he still always went to work every day. His place was always clean and he had a pretty good relationship with Suzie. He definitely loved her I know that. And she loved him too.
Okay so that’s pretty much where my story with Trevor ends. I loved the guy but I ended up moving out of that area and didn’t really keep in touch with anybody. I still did talk to Trevor every now and then. I heard stories that he was getting into all sorts of trouble like doing speed and just out of control drinking and that sorta shit. He got married to Suzie and they had a daughter and I heard that he like left her for awhile and stuff. This is just through the grapevine talk. I personally didn’t see Trevor again after about 1996. The last I heard, right after I got home from living in New Zealand in May of 2008, was that Trevor was living in Lake Havasu with Suzie and things were good. Jason Haught is the one who told me that. We found each other on myspace.com and were chatting back and forth for a few months.
Fast forward to September of 2010. I’m going out with this girl from Newport, April Shand. She hooks me up with this dude (no names mentioned) who sells meth and I wanted some. I go over to the dude’s house and his roommate is a friend from back in the Newport days with Trevor. It’s Eric Litzenberg. I hadn’t seen him in years so we are chatting away for a while and I ask him about Trevor, hoping he had his number and stuff so I could get in touch. And then he dropped the bomb on me. Litzy’s like, “haven’t you heard?”.
Uhhhh no. Heard what, I say. And he tells me this crazy fucking story. He tells me that Trevor was living in Havasu and was having marital problems with Suzie to the point where she basically left him and is seeing some other dude. Trevor I guess was pretty out of control, either on drugs or alcohol, or both. I’m not clear on that part. Anyway, I guess one day in January of 2009, Trevor knows Suzie is seeing some dude and he follows her secretly to the guys house. I have no idea what was going on in his marriage or in his mind, I only know the facts as they were told to me by Eric Litzenberg and then what I read on the internet. So, he follows her, waits a little bit I guess and then goes and knocks on the dude’s door. This is in Lake Havasu somewhere. I know that Trevor did have some friend of his with him and they were in Trevor’s truck. Obviously the friend didn’t know what was going to happen. Trevor had a gun with him. Trevor knocked on the dude’s door. I heard that Suzie and the dude were both at the door. I also heard that Trevor put the gun in Suzie’s face. I don’t know if that’s a fact or not, it’s just what I heard.
What is a fact though, is that Trevor shot the dude, 36 year old Matt Gandy. Killed him in fact. Right on his doorstep at about 5:30 p.m. on January 15th, 2009. Then Trevor jumped in his truck and took off. His friend that was with him sustained minor injuries when he jumped out of the truck after seeing what Trevor did. Obviously like I said that was unexpected and the dude didn’t want to be in the truck with Trev after that. Totally understandable. Trevor’s friend was a guy named Brian Corners. I am not familiar with Brian or the guy that Trevor killed, Matt. I’m pretty sure Matt used to live in Newport and knew Trevor and Suzie from California but again I’m speculating. Anyhow, Trevor left the scene and went to his house with the .45 semi automatic pistol and killed himself. I’m not sure when he did that but I do know the SWAT team entered his house a little after 11 pm after several unsuccessful attempts to communicate via the phone and whatever other means they normally use to negotiate with people. When they entered his house, he was dead.
I have to be honest when Litzy told me that story I was floored. I mean, in shock, mouth open, disbelief. Crazy fucking story. Tragic, sad, horrible story. Not a good way to go out. Not a good thing to do killing someone. Not a good way to deal with his situation with his wife. Just bad news all around. I’ve read lots of stuff about Matt Gandy and from all accounts he was a great guy who didn’t deserve to die that way. I believe what I’ve read. I’m sure he was a good guy. I’m really sorry that he died, sorry for his family, just sorry period. I’ve also read that Trev was a monster and all this other shit. That I don’t believe. I know he did a horrible thing. A horrible thing. I’m not taking anything away from that fact. That was wrong and bad.
I’m sorry though, I knew Trevor really well and he wasn’t a monster. Regardless of how his life ended, he wasn’t a monster. He was a good guy with a big heart and he wasn’t evil. I swear he wasn’t. I don’t know what was going through his mind that day but the fact that he committed murder notwithstanding, Trevor, in his heart was a good person.
I’m sure that the family and friends of Mr. Gandy don’t agree and who can blame them. Their son, brother, friend, uncle, nephew was taken from them at such a young age and for no good reason. He was only 36. That totally sucks. My condolences to his loved ones.
But my condolences to those who loved Trevor as well. He was also 36 and died tragically, albeit through circumstances he brought upon himself. It’s still tragic either way and I’m still sad and blown away whenever I think about Trevor. I’ll always love Trev and consider him one of my best friends of my life. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been in more contact with him or helped him in some way. It really sucks.
Karma Police have pulled me over it seems. I’m hoping I don’t get arrested by these guys because I don’t know how much more of this shit I can take to be honest. The universe seems to be against me or maybe I am just against success. Do I owe this life to mediocrity? I stand in my own way. I do. I do. I really fucking do. There is a sick part of my heart that jumps all over any impulsive idea that springs into my mind and I’m seemingly too stubborn to stop it. How many times have I relied on the goodness of strangers to get my ass out of a sling? So many it boggles the mind. Blessed and cursed was I…good looks and charm….I rely on both of them way too much. This rut I’m in just keeps digging itself deeper and deeper.
When does the digging stop and the burying begin?
Scared to find that out to be honest. The enormity of the task that lies in front of me should I desire to continue battling just seems overwhelming. All systems are failing lets not mince words. Is my core still intact or is it rotten and poisoned? I can’t tell anymore.
Cerebral thinker, polluted well, the water smells off, have I been living in hell?
Surrounded by demons or are they just ghosts? Calling to me. Beckoning me closer…Closer to what?
That’s the scary part. Half of me already knows the answer to that and it spells only darkness and a reunion I’m not anxious to have. I don’t want to be a name on the list of People Who Died, as much as I love them, I don’t want to see them anytime soon.
Yet…even now I hear faded whispers, see smiles in the dark, hear chuckles and scraping, the moon is so full tonight, translucent light from an unnatural source the sickly green phosphorent beakers of decadence.
Calling to me from the ancient past, promising details to questions and mysteries I didn’t ask and had no idea remained unsolved.
Regicide, the killing of a king, regicides, the killings of kings…
Who slipped him the poison with a smile on his face and teeth in his heart? Who whispered my name to the wolves that run the action wherever I journey?
What kind of insect bit Charle’s killer, infected him with madness, forced him to pull the trigger? You see that’s where it all started for me I believe. The slow whirlpool spinning me around and around, unable to climb out unable to drown just spinning and spinning….faster and faster. It all started with Charles McEldowney, Bo Kai Di, Chuck,
Vietnamese….American….Devil….Angel….dead. For sure he is dead.
It’s been 5 years and 9 months since Chuck was shot by a young and angry Vietnamese kid. 5 y 9 m since the kid knocked on Charlie’s door. It was in August of 2005. Charles lived real close to Dodger’s Stadium. I wonder if the Dodgers were home that evening? Or was the stadium as empty as the soul of the kid who put the gun up to Chuckie’s chest when he opened the door. Pulled the trigger. Walked away. Somebody took Charles to the Emergency Room. I don’t know what hospital he died at. I don’t even know how to properly spell his American name or Vietnamese name. I just know that my life hasn’t been the same since I got the call on the third floor of the Stellar Bar in Melboune, Australia from Heather Batchelder.
Charles drowned on his own blood. That’s what I’ve been told. I’m going to let you see this letter that I wrote to the world when I could find time to console myself back then. From what I understand a printout of this letter was included with Charles when they put him in the oven that incinerated his flesh. A copy of this letter is intermingled with his ashes and spread everywhere and nowhere. Charles drowned in his own blood.
Who was there to see him off? This was an unplanned journey to eternity. When did his thoughts shift from whatever nonsensical things he was doing 5 minutes before the doorbell rang to “oh my god I am dead god please jesus please oh my god I can’t breathe help me “. His eyes must have been frantic. Or maybe he was just that badass that he accepted it and floated away.
Come to think of it…a lot of things would be easier if I knew what happened to Charles. I would like to see everything from 5 minutes to door bell ringing to where he is now. If anywhere. I’d like to know if he can still have thoughts in his mind. Where did he end up? Or is he just gone, not even rotting because of the cremation but just gone as if he never existed?
For at least 6 months after he died, somebody paid his mobile phone bill so his answering machine was still working. I used to call that number from Australia all the time just to hear his voice. It would rip me apart but I did it so many times. I wonder who else used to call and leave messages for Charlie. Did he ever get them?
I wrote this back in 05 when I was part owner of a bar in Melbourne, Australia. Got some bad news from Heather Batchelder and Mike Barnes about my very good friend Charles.
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.
Sometimes I start to think that I’m sick in the head and that my soul is in peril. It would not be a huge leap for anyone that knows me to believe that my middle name was actually Trouble. Trouble and me are pretty close friends but thankfully we haven’t gone too far down the road together. I guess I like cruising around on the periphery of his world but I wouldn’t want to get caught behind the Trouble County Line after dark if you know what I mean.
Hard for me to take any kind of credit for that though. I’ve been blessed beyond belief with a mother who has always stood by me regardless of the circumstances. My mom’s name is Heather and I am not worthy of the generosity she has bestowed upon me with not much in return thus far. I could write a book. A literal book filled with story upon story of Heather saving my ass time after time after time.
Have you ever had someone in your life who you cared about and tried to help? Yes you have. How about someone you have helped but they didn’t seem to care? As in not much gratitude was shown. I’m sure most people can answer yes to this as well. The number of downward spiraling questions I would have to keep asking to get you to the point where I am with my mom would boggle the mind. I mean my mom could have answered yes to the second question when I was 2 probably.
How about this? Have you ever gotten mortally sick and fucking tired of helping someone that doesn’t get it? Like they are fucking retarded or something. And you get sick of helping them and putting yourself out for them. They don’t appreciate it. In fact they seem to resent you for it as shocking as that seems. After a while you get sick of that shit right? Eventually you come to a point where enough is enough and you have had it up to here with this ungrateful sob. You have it out with him/her and announce that you are “done” and thats the end of it. They pretty much cease to exist for you in any tangible way and you just move on because there are too many deserving people in this world to justify wasting any more time and energy on a selfish know it all idiot who doesn’t learn from his mistakes.
Well my mom has been “done” with me at least 1,256 times in my life. I have been so stupid its almost a fucking joke to consider. I have no idea why that woman has continued to love me and help me for as long as she has. This is not to say that she doesn’t get super pissed off at me and stuff. She does. Super pissed. The amazing thing about Heather, my mom, is that she really doesn’t hold a grudge against me. After a bit, if I genuinely seem to change my attitude and start trying to do the right thing, its easy to get her back on my side and believing in my inherent “good sonlyness”.
I’m not explaining this in order to make light of the situation in any way. I’m not trying to point out that my mom is a sucker that should have opened her eyes to reality years ago and written me off for good back then. Many people would be agreeing with that sentence though. I’m sure she hears it from all sorts of people. In fact, I know that she does. I can’t blame them and certainly I would never blame her if she did just walk away and wash her hands of it all. There would be no guilt on her conscience because she has done 1,000 times more then she should have to make sure that I have chances to be a happy and productive kid in this big bad world.
I just know that if I didn’t have my mother around, I would be hard pressed to continue to believe that the world is essentially a good place. My mom is that stable, firmly grounded and steadfast rock that has always kept my head above water and I am truly grateful for her continued support and love.
Everyone thinks that they are special. I know it sounds incredibly stupid but “I KNOW that I’m special”. God has a plan for me, a destiny that I need to survive long enough to fulfill. Has anyone ever read “A Prayer for Owen Meany”? If you have you know what I’m talking about already. If you haven’t then sorry. I don’t have time to explain it.
I want something good to die for to make it beautiful to live.
Some days like today for instance, I get the hairs on my arms standing up and this really super deja vu-ish feeling that flows through my head and keeps tantalizing me with the idea that I am an integral part of God’s master plan for my era. Shit, that sounds so delusional. Unrealistic delusion of grandeur. Classic symptoms of any one of a dozen personality disorders. Still, the feeling is unshakable.
And so I continue to bob and weave the punches I throw at myself. Finding my way to this destiny has been a journey that I wish upon nobody.
I have a hard time staying out of my own line of fire. If there is a devil, and I’m pretty sure there is, so far he’s just laughing at the lack of a challenge that I present. He doesn’t even have to throw any of his demons my way. Why waste assets when I’m doing a fine job of fucking things up myself? I guess my only real resolution for the year 2011 is to possibly find a way to let the natural blessings that are bestowed upon me bear the fruit they are intended to bear. How dumb is that to consider? Real dumb. That’s all that God is asking of me at the moment. Just to stay out of my own way for a little bit.
Its not to much to ask. I may be finally ready to do this. Let’s hope so.
By the way that picture of the adorable little tyke and the woman that you can see at the beginning of this post is me and my grandmother.
The sexy woman standing in back of those two crazy looking little kids standing in their butthuggers is my mother, Heather Bayne.
Well its certainly been a long time and many things have changed in my life. Actually that’s not exactly true. How about a little chat I recently had with Scott Drake, the famed frontman of the Humpers:
may the Good Lord bless you and keep you Scott
Have a blessed day my Son
right back at ya
i will see you in Heaven
Holy Jumped Up Jesus Palomino Scott Drake has been born again
hahahaha…gotta go make some lunch…have a good one
Thank you kind sir….
It seemed miraculous from the outset yet quickly disintegrated. What can I say except Koombaya? So today is the day after thanksgiving in 2010. I still have a girlfriend named April Shand. She is pretty sick of me though. For some reason I just can’t behave it seems. For one thing, I have a problem with a game called Cleopatra’s Keno. It sucks me in and I end up losing tons of money that I don’t have playing it. That’s not good when I don’t have a job. In fact, its downright bad.
I’m going to stop going to the casino so my girlfriend won’t hate me. I love her.
I looked into her eyes last night and realized how incredibly lucky I am to have found a girl who gets me. Better late then never. We have our moments of confusion but when we are curled up like two puppies in the bed there is no doubt about anything. Searching aimlessly for my whole life and coming up short, that’s what seemed to be my destiny. I can no longer say that. Truly, I believe the ball is in my court. If I want happiness, a girl who will stand by my side, a girl who loves me….well she’s here. She’s here now. It’s up to me to blow it. Or not. I’m thinking for once in my fleabitten life I’m going to choose not. God, you got my back on this one. I’ll take this one thanks. She is music to my ears.
April Shand…I’m pretty happy that you sleep with me every night.
Tenacity, according to the online version of the Merriam Webster Dictionary, is defined thusly: the quality or state of being tenacious. Tenacious, according to http://www.dictionary.com is
1. Not readily letting go of, giving up, or separated from an object that one holds, a position, or a principle: “a tenacious grip”.
2. Not easily dispelled or discouraged; persisting in existence or in a course of action: “a tenacious legend”.
Where am I, Anthony Mandich, self proclaimed “artist and urban legend” going with this opening you might be asking yourself. Fuck! I don’t know myself. I don’t want to go off on some idiotic babble ridden tangent like usual and yet I feel the need to vent. I’m torn, as always, because if I vent the truth and it is read by certain people, I’m going to be judged harshly, critiqued mercilessly and possibly shunned universally. Good Lord I’m dramatic.
One thing I have to say about the adjective tenacious is that there is a fine line between being admirably tenacious and insanely tenacious. I should have prefaced the above sentence with “In my opinion”. Steadfast, unwavering, and resolute are terms that I believe are somewhat interchangeable with tenacious. When you think of the concept in these kinds of terms it certainly leads one to believe that being tenacious is an admirable quality for a human being to have. History is full of examples of plucky types who define the ideal vision of the concept. It’s 4:33 a.m. and right this second there isn’t a name that just pops to the fucking forefront of my brain who I could list here as an example of this ideal vision I alluded to but I’m pretty sure anyone reading could do a reasonable job of filling in the blanks here. I’m not writing this spew to point out a bunch of dead people who did wonderful things. So I’m going to leave the positive aspect of tenacity alone for you the reader to mull over in your minds. I would actually be really stoked if you could maybe comment on this post and possibly list out a couple of examples of people that should be admired for their tenacity. Maybe give a few details of what they did, how it helped the human race etc. That would be great. If I can get say, 10 comments from you guys, then I’ll feel it worthwhile to continue this whole thing.
It’s probably worth your time and effort if you are interested in hearing the dirt on the other side of tenacity and how it applies to me. Trust me there are some compelling stories to be told. I just don’t feel it worth my time to do so if nobody is interested in hearing them to begin with. So I’ll leave it up to y’all.
I’ll even get the ball rolling for everyone. Lin Zhao was a poet from China who was executed in 1968. Prior to her trial, one of her doctors tried in vain to get her to stop her hunger strike. I forget what she weighed exactly by this point but 70 lbs comes to mind for some reason. Anyhow, her doctor tried to get her to eat and she refused, stating, “better to be destroyed, then to give up one’s principles”. She was tenacious. One more example of her tenacity has to do with her poetry. Long story short, officials at her jail, in an attempt to silence her, took away her writing utensils (pen and ink etc) that she used to write her poetry. The fact that she no longer had access to ink didn’t stop Lin Zhao from writing thousands of additional poems up to the time of her execution. Since she didn’t have any ink, she had to make do with the closest thing to ink that she had at her disposal. Can you guess what I’m referring to here?
What should I talk about today hmmm? All sorts of shit perhaps? Okay, well I feel like a pretty big star right now because Antonio Sabato Jr., that hunk of a man posted a little thank you blurb on my Facebook wall a little bit ago. What a nightmare for that poor guy really. I mean how does one deal with one supercreepy yet oddly popular little fella like me? I am doing an unauthorized and definitely unsolicited yet supremely fucking cool painting of his girlfriend cheryl and i posted a copy of it on his wall so he came on my wall and said thanks. I mean he doesn’t want to appear ungrateful to his fans and shit so that’s understandable but still though, how many sicko fans does the dude probably have? I can only imagine how many dumpy dowdy mid western fatty housewives from Kansas or Kentucky or Nebraska or some shit are members of his fan club. My God, the thought horrifies me for him. All these wanna be sexy, wanna be cougars (without the cash, class and with triple the ass) who fell in love with Antonio when was on General Hospital way back when….wow. I’m sure tons of them have painted portraits of him or baked him cookies or sent him their size 124 extra stout soiled panties in the mail, total delusions of grandeur running through their fat little heads that Antonio really wants any of this shit. That Antonio wants anything more then to be left alone lol. But still, he is a very successful public figure with a cultivate heartthrob image and has probably always felt obligated to personally thank everyone for whatever little gifts they send, no matter how fucking insane they might actually be. And he’s actually totally fucking cool. I mean I know plenty of my own REAL FLesH AND bLOOD FRIENDS, who feel it well within their rights to delete my posts or censor me or whatever. To his credit, everything I have ever posted on his wall, is still there. So I respect him for reals and I feel sorry for him too. So I try not to be too much of a creep with my celebrity friends and anyways fucking hell the painting is sick as fuck. Its rad. So maybe I’m a delusional midwestern cougar fatty myself and if I do send him the painting someday, it will probably end up God knows where but doubt if its gonna be hanging over the dining room table lol. Well thats my first topic at a close. Bottom line, don’t be hard on Antonio Sabato Jr. , as he is a cool mother fucker, a handsome mother fucker, with a hotter then goddamn hell girlfriend, and he’s not a dick. Alrighty moving right along….
Wow I could go in so many directions right now. Should I talk about this chick Kendra that I made out with for brief interlude on Saturday night in Los Angeles, should I talk about Steve Jacobson and how good he has it with his sexy ass girlfriend who is down to be his sex slave basically, should I talk about Ryan Johnson, that suave debonair friend of mine, with a face whose cheeks you just wanna squeeze he’s that handsome of a specimen? Should I talk about my last sexual encounter(s) with _ _ _ _ _ _ or _ _ _ _ _ or _ _ _ _ _ _? Should I talk about the many beautiful young ladies I fell in love with at the Apoolcalypse party on Saturday August 21st, 2010 at Dystopian Studios? There were many new faces such as Toni, H (8th Letter)-WOW!, Sasha, Kim. There were many faces I’ve seen before but only strengthened my love for like Eunice, Eden, and Heather. There was one notable face missing, that I’m pining over, Erica. So yeah we could go there and stay there for a couple of blogs.
I could talk about the termination of all contact forever with my ex wife Briar. There are plenty of untold scandalous details to unfold for you captive readers. Since she can now officially “suck it” she is fair game so perhaps that’s a topic?
We could get into some really taboo stuff like my dealing with Rodney who none of you are familiar with at the moment but you would be fascinated with learning about.
Gambling is a topic I am aching to get into with you all. I have a horror story hand to tell you about but I’m still sickened by it myself so I don’t actually know if i I wanna go there right now.
We could even gloss over a few little sentences about my buddy Sean Stenlake’s sexier then goddamn hell little princess of a girlfriend Natasha who is a real life Playboy Playmate who Sean is privileged enough to ravage on a daily basis about forty feet from where I know find myself perched.
LA in general is not a bad topic and i have lots to go over on that end as well. We could get into a little Area 33 discussion, we could talk about Jacen Onda and his antics. I could finish by previously started series about my ex girlfriend “Polly” or was it “Dolly” who is now safely back in her husbands house in “Texas”.
My fat dog Woodie getting owned, punked and probably butt fucked by Snickers on a nightly basis, is a topic I have alot of enthusiasm to discuss. My brother Jon, wow, I would love to do a special series just on Jon alone. He’s a special and unique young creature of the night and we could spend many an hour together about him.
I’ve got an MMA fighter friend named Ian McCall who I plan to get up to some mischief with really soon. We could talk about him and his competitive sexual nature. He’s definitely a kindred spirit although I’m not too sure he would be really that proud of such a horrible fact.
Casino Junkie Crew is one topic I plan on spending several hours regaling you with tales about. Probably I will end up writing a book about topic alone if live long enough.
Codependent’s reunion show, Jim Kennedy’s birthday bash, Ricky Menace’s return to the stage….all on three consecutive days starting this Friday…we will get into all the gory details of that weekend but lets wait until that weekend happens.
What else? The Christian Facebook Army, Caffeine Magazine and my exclusion therefrom, JoJo Meadows art promotion efforts on my behalf in the UK, the state of the union of my art career and life in general, the chaos that is my room. All of these are worthy topics and I want to get to all of them. As you can see we have lots to discuss and I think I’m gonna leave everybody with that for now as I have a poker tournament to play on Full Tilt at the moment, as well as a painting I am working on.
Bye Everybody. I miss you Michelle and Kellie the Bear Woman
Peter Tosh said it best when he sang, “you can fool some people sometime but you can’t fool all the people all of the time.” I don’t really even know if that was Peter Tosh to be honest but really I wonder if I am only fooling myself at times. I can be sailing right along in this world, making friends, selling paintings, enjoying life the way it seems like it should be enjoyed.
Maybe “bad” is the wrong way to put it. How about strange, unexpected, unexplainable shit starts happening. I don’t mean good unexpected things unfortunately. I’m talking more about things that are pretty much the polar opposite of what I was either hoping for or at least expecting. Let me give you a few examples okay.
Out of the blue two months ago I got a call from a woman who was my recruiter at Kimco Financial. Her name is Heather Pease and I consider her a friend now. We’ve hung out socially and all that shit. Anyhow, she calls me all excited and proceeds to let me know that she “found me a job”. This is completely out of the blue on a Friday afternoon while I was on my way to San Manuel Casino to play in the $200+ No Limit Hold Em they offer.
I didn’t let her know how excited I was when she told me the job was Accounting Manager for Sole Technologies (maker of ‘es, Etnies, Emerica etc.) but inside I was stoked. Long story short, after much ballyhooing (whatever that means) and pre-interview hysteria, I went to the interview, talked to the Controller and H.R. Manager for an hour or so, was informed that I would be called back the next week for Round 2 and I left. It was an okay day anyhow because I met my good friend Heather Bell for lunch right before the interview started and also the interview went well (I thought…..). I had an email about a day later from Krista who is not the H.R. Manager but is an internal recruiter for Sole Tech and the one who initially phone interviewed me, told me how great of a bubbly, optimistic, energetic soul I was etc. She asked me how it went and why I thought I was the best candidate for the job. I proceeded to write back a beautiful essay of sorts which I know was very well written and relevant because (a) I am a good writer and (b) I showed it to 5 or 6 people whose opinions I trust who told me it was very well written.
Now the fact is that I did not apply for this job, I was recommended for the position by someone (Heather Pease) who did not have any sort of vested interest in making this recommendation, not financial or otherwise. I was told by Krista during our phone interview that this carried a lot of weight. Since I did not apply and was asked to come in for the interview I was absolutely blown away by the fact that since the interview a month ago, I have not heard one thing regarding the position. I mean I realize that I did not get it. Duh. That’s obvious by now. I just can’t believe how fucking rude and disrespectful it is to not let me know that. Especially considering that I have called all three of the individuals and emailed personal thank you letters after the interview to them as well. In fact, with Krista, I have emailed her, called her and texted her. All with zero response. I find that terribly unprofessional and a bad way of doing business. That’s example one.
Wow my hands are tired already after just one example. Guess I’ll continue this later.
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.
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”.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.