Hang 10 dude! World Surf Games 2009 Day 2

Hang 10? More like hang over. Actually just a slight headache, but I head to the store anyway to pick up some agua. Since I am low on cash I have been using my credit card for just about everything. I am not going to use my credit card to buy 1 water, so instead I bought 3 waters, and gave 2 to the hot Israeli chicks in my hostel. I don't know why, but something about Israeli girls really gets to me. Oh yeah, I remember. It was the Israeli girl who I dated in Lithuainia who tore my heart out. She was pretty much the only girl during my whole stay in Europe, that I had any kind of feelings for. She was unbelievably fine, and she was in school to become a brain surgeon. I had plans in the back of my head to marry this girl. I did find it strange that she always hung out with 2 girls from Lebanon, a country which her country was at war with during the time. Anyway, she ended up using me to jump her way up to a higher profile American basketball player named Reggie Freeman, who was an all american at Texas. She then used him to get to Tanoka Beard who was like the Shaq of Lithuanian basketball. I never heard from this girl again after I left Lithuania, but if I had to guess, she is probably living with Pau Gasol in L.A. plotting how she can get to Kobe. Anyway after giving the Israeli girls the water, things became kind of awkward which is usually what happens when you do something nice for a girl. Anyway, I caught a ride out to playa hermosa again with Denis and his crew. We ended up getting a traffic ticket for jamming too many people in the car, which ended up being about a 2 dollar fine. The surf games were pretty much the same thing as the day before: some people surfing and a bunch of fine women prancing around on the beach. At least that is what I saw. I ended up hanging out with the El Savadorian surf team for a while. They had driven 28 hours in a van to get to the competition and they were pumped up. I talked with the sponsor of the team quite a bit and he was also impressed with the female fan turnout. He then pointed my attention to a lady directly in front of us and asked me how old I thought she was. I claimed I didnt know, maybe 18. He told me that she was 15 and it made him wish that he was 17 again. I agreed that she was the hottest 15 year old I had ever seen. After letting the pediphile vibes pass, I took a few pictures with some of the El Salvadorian surfers (this guy with the mask asked first) and went back to find Denis and the crew. They were doing what almost every guy was doing this afternoon, drinking beer and looking at girls asses. I could only take so much of this, so I told them I was going to buy some beer. I never went to buy that beer, but I did run into a gringo girl I had met last night. After watching her smoke with some Ticos and playing some imaginary volleyball, I headed back to the competition to find my crew which by this time had abandoned me and gone back to San José. I was perfectly ok with this, except for the fact that these guys were my only access to a camera, so sadly there will be no more shots of flip throught the surfgames escapades. Since I had ignored most of the people in the hostel the night before, I made up in my mind that I was going to be extra friendly tonight. I also made an executive decision to limit my drinking, as past experiences have taught me, when I drink heavily, bad things happen, very bad things. Papas and Burgers, the restaurant who Tony the guy I met yesterday mentioned, is right next to my hostel, so I decide to go and try out a meal. I go in and start talking to the waitress, an attractive gringa, and ask were is Tony the owner is. She told me that Mark is the owner and he is standing right over there. I explain to her that some bald guy named Tony told me that it was his restaurant and apparently I was lied to. Tony is actually a guy that does construction, and I had a feeling I would see this guy again. I got the Picasso burger and it was bloody awesome. After the meal I headed back to my dorm room where I was greeted by a guy dressed in a wifebeater named Jermarín from the Dominican Republic. Since I had just eaten, I had to turn down his invite to go get dinner, but I told him we could kick it later. I had a goal to be more social, so I went up to the kitchen where there were two fine Swiss girls and a Brazilian guy who was all about trying to convince these girls to go play pool with him. Later I would meet a Chicagoan named Derrick who would label those chicas the "untouchable swiss girls" because of all the guys they ignored throughout the week who wanted to hang out with them. Back down in the lobby someone was blasting some old school Ini Kamoze which I had to go check out because it is one of my favorite jams of all time.

Turns out there was a party in the Lobby between Wilson, the Tico hotel keep, Chapo the hotel surf instructor, and Adaim a half gringo, half dutch guy, who didnt work at the hotel, but was there almost all the time hanging out and trying to pick up the euro chicks who came through. Eventually Adaim, I and Jermarín the Dominican would go out to a club called Ganesha (named after the Hindu God who is the remover of obsticals, not the scrawny indian in the IMBA program.) Jaco was much calmer on this Sunday night, because most of the Ticos had returned to San Jose. I was taking it easy, but Jermarìn was determined into peer pressuring me to drink heavily, and Adaim was already drunk. Jermarín quickly found a group of 3 tica girls who were all sharing a cocacola. I had a bad feeling about this 3 headed coke drinking monster, and as soon as they finished their soda they were asking me a Jermarín to buy them smirnoff ices. Jermarin pretty much begged me to pitch in and of course after the drinks were bought, it was an all out dance party. And whenever there is a dance party, there I am busting out the splits and hurting myself. I told myself I wouldnt do the splits again but I did and ended up causing a bruise on my knee that lasted weeks. At least the pure hilarity of Jeramìn in his wife beater and Adaim's drunken dancing eased the pain. Watching those two dancing idiots go crazy while some random guy who wasnt dancing at all came in and took the girl they were trying to woo with their moves, was priceless. I wandered off and bumped into a guy from New York who told me that I needed to be dominating these girls with my size. He also gave me the best advice I received all weekend "Watch out, if a girl here is not a hooker, she is a hooker" So taking that advice I did an about face and approached the two most obvious hookers in the bar and started talking to them. They tried to get me to buy them a beer even though they both already had full drinks and I wasnt even drinking anything anymore. I told them I didnt want their services and asked what kind of bullcrap friendship requires me to buy someone a drink. They agreed with me, and then we all went to the ladies bathroom and took some pictures on her camera phone, until some lady busted in all angry, got in my face and asked me to leave. I have never felt so unwelcome in a women's bathroom before. When I got back to the dancefloor I was getting a lot more attention than before and everybody was trying to take a picture of me when I wasnt looking. I would find out later that Jermarín had told everybody that I was Michael Phelps and I didnt want to take pictures with anybody. The night ended with Jermarín unsuccessfully trying to convince the 2 heads of the 3 headed coke monster who hadnt left with some guy, to come back to our sweet hostel to party. When we got back Adaim tried sorting out some earlier drama that occured with one of the Israeli girls, while I downed some milk and had a bonding moment talking to Jermarín about how dancing and buying drinks almost never pays off. I then demonstrating to the other Israeli girl how I busted my knee doing the splits, as she was clearly impressed, and went to sleep.
(Editor's note: I will not write a conclusion to this saga so if you want the conclusion plese ask me in person)

Hang 10 dude! World Surf Games 2009 Day 1

I wake up early and make it to downtown bus station by 7 a.m. in time to make the 7:15 bus to Jaco, but there is one problem. The explosive diarrhea that has manifested itself in my system has politely asked me to buy the ticket for 8:30. So I'm like ok Runs you win, and I go to the McDonalds baño to let my friend go free. While I was waiting for the bus, I came across a young man originally from Wisconsin who was working at a call center in San Jose. I picked up a strong gay vibe from this guy, so even though my gay radar has been faulty at times, I tried not to get too friendly. The bus ride was pretty uneventful apart for the friendly fat girl sitting next to me sharing her gumdrops with me. Sometimes fat people eat everything in front of them, but this lady felt compelled to offer me some of her rations even though I had not said one word to her. This seemed like a pretty normal occurrence at the time, but would actually lead to an important cultural discovery and a bit of deja vu on day 7. When I got to Jaco I immediately walked to the Hotel Haan which is my preferred destination when I stay in the town known for its surf and prostitutes. Luckily they had an extra bed left in the dormitory. After checking in and borrowing some of my dormmates Africa scented Axe deodorant (Stop judging me, you know you have done it. It was a spray can and I just got off a long bus ride, and Africa scent is not what you would expect) I headed to catch the bus to Playa Hermosa. After asking around to find where I could catch this bus, I hopped on only to come to a dead halt just minutes later 3km from Playa Hermosa in a giant traffic jam. At this point the people walking on the side of the road are passing us, not to mention the guy riding on horseback while simultaneously rolling a joint. After an hour long 2 mile bus ride, I finally arrived at the World Surf Games, aka "Try to hide my boner" Olympics. Seriously, there were so many fine women at this thing that it was very difficult for me to get any kind of concentration on the actual surf games. However, I did manage to watch the games at some point and here is what I observed:

1. The female surfers don't look anything like the chicks from the movie Blue Crush. The lady surfers were not nearly as attractive as the spectators, except for maybe Puerto Rico. One of the girls surfing for Puerto Rico was hot and she was a bad ass surfer too. At least I imagined she was good because I really have no idea what makes a good surfer. Actually, I really don't even know if she was hot because she was out in the ocean the whole time, and these old eyes can't see like they used to.

2. To hell with Hawaii!! Not only did Hawaii field their own team apart from the U.S. team but they also brought their own flag with their flag carrier hit me in the face with it. Last time I checked Hawaii was a state so why did they bring this US-UK cross-breed monstrosity of a flag?

3. Anytime there is an excuse to drink during the middle of the day, Ticos will take advantage of it. The beach was packed with people partying and not paying any attention to the games. And any time there are people drinking, there are also people who want to take pictures with the extremely tall man, sometimes without even asking.

4. This thing apparently was a bigger deal than I thought. Teams came from Ireland, Japan, South Africa, Australia, etc. Every continent was represented except for Antarctica.

After a while on the beach I headed back to the stage area which would be the future performing area for several mediocre local performing acts. Actually there was a one guy that was a pretty good gangster rapper. While I was back in this area a gringo with his shirt off named Tony walked up and started talking to me about what most people talk to me about: how big I am. Tony informed me that he has been living in Costa Rica for 18 years and after getting out of jail is now rich again. He told me to come visit his restaurant, Papas and Burgers and told me that I should come ride on his boat. Mid conversation, I get interrupted by Denis (pictured right) a guy I met playing pickup basketball in the park last year. Denis works for HP and hung out with me last year when I went to Jacó. As Denis temporarily leaves, Tony, a man with a tatoo on his head, calls Denis a shady guy. I defend Denis, but I think Tony had a good point. Anyway, minutes later I would end up joining Denis and his crew and commenced to drink. I am making an honest effort to cut back on my drinking, but the choice is never easy. Either I can be sober, unsocial and safe or I can drink, be the life of the party, and put myself and everybody around me in danger. I always try to find a happy medium but it never ends up that way. So of course I started to drink, and eventually ended up like this------------------------------------------------------> And when I end up like this, I end up doing things. I can't remember everything, but I can remember the stupid things. Things like picking up prostitutes and holding them over my head, or riding on the back of an ATV doing wheelies in the middle of a street with a random Tico without a helmet. I do remember being incredibly scared which leads me to believe I was not that drunk if I feared for my life. I also remember there being a bunch of women of all ethnicities all over me, and I was constantly getting cockblocked by members of my own team. The last thing I remember was talking to a random girl on the street before starting my own survey on the street in spanish: (me translated) Hey hotdog guy, who is prettier, this girl or me? (hot dog guy) "She is prettier" (me) "Wrong, I am prettier dude, duh." At this point team cockblock grabbed me and made me walk back to my hotel. Maybe it was not such a bad idea.

Hang 10 dude! World Surf Games 2009 Day 0

I felt compelled to right about my 2 weekend trip to the world surf games. Day 0 is pretty boring, but I promise the action will pick up in the future posts.

Estar de chicha = to be in a bad mood (costa rican slang)
Usually I am a pretty optimistic guy, but at this point, estoy de chicha, because I am broke, my roommates are broke, and my low paying baskeball job can't support everybody. Now I live on this mountain pictured below, so I should have no reason to complain, right?

Yet I am on the verge of depression because I spend my days, jobless, in the upper floor of a house built by hippies wherein I must squat down a full foot to take an icy cold shower or sit in a chair to cook on our world class electric burners. So as I sit in the house on a Friday night listening to my roomate complain about his financial situation, I make a bold declaration that I am going to Jaco tomorrow. After my roomates try to talk me out of this dangerous journey, I say "me voy" and head to bed.

Mystery Solved

That man walking my street with the machete is Marcos, the neighborhood gardner. While all you soft people in the states use landmowers and hedgetrimmers to beautify your yards, Marcos gets everything done with a rusty machete. Marcos seems a little on edge to me when I talked to him, and I don't think it is out of the question that he floips his shit and uses that machete on something else than the weeds in my yard.

Things I have learned in Ticoland

1. Hannah Montana and High School musical backpacks are huge here. I saw 4 today alone. Normally a grown man riding a bike and rocking a Hannah Montana backpack would be just cause for him to surrender his man card. However, this seems to be perfectly normal here.

2. I need to stop trying to do the splits. Have you ever seen a guy on a dance floor who tries something that he has no business doing and often ends up hurting himself or the people around him. Well that is me, everytime I get in full dance mode and try to end my dance routine by jumping up in the air, ending in the splits, and tearing the shit out of my groin.

3.Never fall asleep with a crazy woman in your house. This one seems like common sense but sometimes a woman is so crazy that you would rather leave your own bed and pass out on the couch just to avoid dealing with her craziness. Wrong move buddy. The possibilities of disaster are endless here. I have never had someone try to sexually take advantage of me before, until this past weekend, when this nutjob repeatedly tried to twang on my wang while I was just trying to get some sleep. While many people may not believe that this is a bad thing, just take my word. It was terible.

4. I need to make some changes in my life. I am a grown man with a masters degree in international business and a fair amount of intelligence. Yet I am playing basketball for a job and living in a shack in Costa Rica next to a hippie who wears, not one, but 2 hawaiian shirts at a time. It is time to grow up and use my life to make a difference for God. Like the great MJ once said, "I am starting with the man in the mirror. I am asking him to make a change."

Back in Action!!! return of the peoples champion

It has been 4 long years, but finally Flip Diesel has come back to the internet! Why the return? well..IT DOESN'T MATTER why The Jeez returned, but the millions and millions of Flip's fans called for it. If you didn't watch wrestling during the late 90's the previous rant probably didn´t make any sense, much like my life. The last time I ended my blog, I left off somewhere in Mexico right before things got interesting, and I developed a new level of drunkeness that carried off and on for 4 years through several different countries. Now I am in an internet cafe in Costa Rica in the mountains outside of San Jose with a couple more degrees and the ability to speak spanish that I lacked when I last wrote a blog. I just arrived yesterday after taking care of some business for my O.J. size legal battle against the state of South Carolina. The neighborhood I live in is pretty cool. House is right next to a stream up in the mountains. Havent seen to many good looking chicas around, but there is a guy with a machete who has been walking the streets. I am not quite confortable enough with my spanish to ask him why, but if I had to take a guess, I think he is a chicken killer. I will keep you posted. Any way I gotta go, more adventuras to come.

Jeezy Returns!!

Since Sports Illustrated on Campus has decided to give this site national recognition while butchering my story, I have decided to make a return. I gave up writing on the internet for free last august, but I now have no choice but to come back. Still even though the jagoffs at SI did not seek my express written consent to do this, some good has come out of this. One woman from Kentucky has written me an email in response to the Women are Insane trilogy, apologizing on behalf of all women everywhere. this was my goal all along, so because of this I have decided to give the world more. I will finish the Mexico saga that I have decided to keep secret for fear of incriminating evidence. I will start at day 23 and give the last 11 days of mayhem. There was a lot of great stories between day 4 and 23 including: a mexican business teacher who transforms into a flaming homosexual when speaking english, a weightroom supervisor who looks like a mentally retarded Nicolous Cage and reads wrestling magazines all day, discovering the time honored mexican tradition of getting drunk on your roof, impressing a room full of mexican coppermill workers with my sledgehammer skills, and climing a mountain only to have a 9 year old indian girl attempt to pickpocket me. However, Day 23 is when the action really starts to pick up. To read the conclusion go to: http://flipdiesel.blogspot.com

The Life and Times of a 6'10" White Guy in Mexico Day 4

It's 6 a.m. and I think my water just broke. I am sitting in my bed balled up in pain and I don't even have the energy to move. After an hour sitting there on the verge of tears, I gather my strength and go to the bathroom. As you can imagine, it wasn't too pretty. The mexican cuisine had finally gotten the best of me. Thank god I had breakfast to look forward to. So at 7:30 I sit down at the table and Marie puts another lovely mexican breakfast on the table. I recognize the eggs, but there is something else on my plate that seems a little out of place. So I look up at Marie with my "what the fuck is this shit" glare and she just smiles back at me like shes doped up on smack. So I start eating this shit, I don't know what it is but as best I can describe it is corn flakes marinated in hot sauce. After about two bites I put my fork down and blankly stare at my plate. Marie noticed that I'm not eating her food, and if you have ever had a mexican mom you will understand that not eating their food is equivalent to telling an American mom to her food back and shove it up her asshole. So she starts pestering me and asking if I'm not hungry, but I just tell her that I'm sick and leave out the fact that I don't have enough strength to eat this garbage that you call breakfast in your country. As soon as I say this Marie goes off walking and rambling Spanish that I can't understand. She comes back with some weeds from her garden and starts cooking them in a pot with water. So I go upstairs and get ready for school, visit the bathroom again, and when I get down Marie gives me some crazy yellow tea in a baby bottle. Apparently, this tea is supposed to make me feel better but I don't see it curing the ass flood that has already hit me twice this morning. I grab the tea and take to the bus stop where I will attempt to make it through a 50 minute bus ride without shitting myself. Luckily, bus 631 is there when we walk up, so I jump on, pay my 3.5 pesos and sit down. It didn't look very good, but that tea was fantastic. It burnt the fuck out of my mouth, but it was some excellent tea. But while I'm sitting here, some guy with a guitar walks on the bus, sees the sucker American with my baby bottle and Spanish dictionary, and decides to stand directly next to me and start playing and singing something that sounds like the spanish version of Hakuna Matata. I'm sick and in a bad mood, so I really dont want to pay for Enrique Clapton singing the blues directly in my ear. After two songs this guy realizes that he is playing a free concert, and gets off the bus. When we get to school I run to the bathroom and make it just in time. We didn't start school until tommorrow, but today was orientation. They put us in a classroom, show some video, then interview us one at a time. I talk to everyone else, and they tell me it was really easy, and they just asked personal questions. I go in there and almost immediately this woman starts asking me to compare US and Mexican business, and describe the benefits of the North American Free Trade Agreement. I can't really remember what i said, but it probably didn't make sense. After this we tour the school and all the facilities, which were actually pretty nice. The we have a brunch, and after eating my donut, I go to the bathroom once again. I have take some immodium AD, but apparently this was something that this medicine had not seen before. After this, we piled into a van and drove to some city called talcoma or something like that. Basically, it was just another place where Mexicans sit around and sell artwork and other worthless shit. Still, you can never look at enough worthless shit so here we were. So I'm walking along, still in pain, and I actually see a painting that is not half bad. I ask the guy sitting on the bench how much it is in spanish and he tells me 200 pesos. I tell him no gracias and then magically he starts speakin freakin English. Just because he speaks English won't make me change my mind, so I start walking off so I don't lose the group. After, I tell him that I might come back, this son of a bitch calls me a "fucking liar" in English no less. I turn around but a member of my party grabs me before I do something stupid. We look at more crap for about an hour until we decide to go to the mall so we can look at slightly more expensive crap. The mall was no different than any other mall in America, it actually is nicer than most of the malls I remember going to. The food court was pretty good and I ended up getting a sandwich and some Dairy Queen since the throbbing in my guts had finally ceased. We eventually end up walking around until we go into one Italian fashion store where me and Silvio immediately sit on the couch inside while some sales clerk just stares at us the whole time like we are about to rob the place. While we are chillin' like villians, the rest of our party leaves the store and disappears. We find them and two girls try to convince us to to go to see the Stepford Wives. I have had enough of one of these girls for the rest of my life let alone the rest of the day, so I politely decline with a "Hell NO" So me and Silvio walk with our peace signs in the air, off into the Mexican sundown.

The Life and Times of a 6'1-" Guy in Mexico Day 1

July 9th 12:00 a.m.
I have to be at the airport in 5 and a half hours and everyone in my party is too drunk to drive me. Still, we continue to drink heavily.

3:oo a.m.
I can barely see, but the night is far from over, as we leave Pavlovs, we encounter a black man with a leaf blower in hand, some might describe him as a bum. At first we walk right past him, but after walking about halfway down the block I realize that this man said 15 dollars. Realizing that this deal on a high quality machinery was too good to pass up, I get my friends to throw in, and we walk back to the hype (a hype is a classification for a street vender for someone who is slightly higher on the social strata than a bum, because he is hustling something, usually stolen property). After seeing that this thing actually works, we give the hype the 15 bucks and walk off with our new toy. As we walk into Jungle Jims I am blowing everything in sight. I blow the security, I blow the 7 people inside, I blow the bartenders, I'm blowing all the cups over, I blow some girl directly in the face at close range, its like Hurricane Hugo has hit Jungle Jims. Even though I am causing massive chaos, I am still getting hooked up with free drinks because who is going to fuck with a guy with a power tool. After there was no further destruction to be done, we decide to leave to go terrorize other drinking establishments. So we walk down the street blowing everybody in sight, but as we near our destination, we run out of gas. When this happened, it seemed like the night had finally come to an end. We go to pita pit to get a snack, and I go back to get my luggage arriving just as my ride pulls up. The Fez drives me to the airport, and I stumble in and mumble to the desk clerk, Guuuadaaalajaaaaaaara.

I basically sleep the entire time of travel, except for the hour and a half I wasted by staying up to watch Jersey Girl on the plane ride to Guadalajara. When we get to Guadalajara we get to customs and I discover that while I was sleeping, I was supposed to fill out paperwork. So these people are asking me all these questions in Spanish, and I have no idea what is going on until some girl finally rescues me and gives me the forms and a pen. As we are leaving the airport, I meet my Spanish family, and we hug and do all that other crazy Mexican bullshit you do when you greet. As soon as I rest for one second, some mexican guy snatches my suitcase from me and starts walking off with it. I don't know if he's part of my family or just some random Mexican trying to jack my stuff. But I follow him because I have no idea where the fuck I am or where the fuck I am going. When we get to the car it turns out, that this guy wants money signaling to me that he is probably not a member of my party. So I give him all the money in my wallet which is something like 7 cents and get into the van. We drive around with this crazy mariachi shit playing, making random stops for who knows what, with everybody talking in Spanish. Then, Chimo, the driver and my spanish brother, says a word I finally understand: cerveza. I dont even want a cerveza because Im still feeling like shit from last night, but we stop at 3 different bodegas to buy different types of spanish beers, and everybody in the van starts drinking. Finally we get to the house, and choose rooms. There are 3 girls from California living in this house, and its a good thing there was because we would have no idea what to do if they werent there to explain things to us. They took us around the neighborhood and told us vital information like "don't eat tacos here, and buy your beer here." We would go out later that night to meet with the rest of the group of Californians. We would wait 45 minutes for a table for 25 people. I drank a lot of tequila that night, but not enough to get me to go out. I had too long of a day and was ready to finally go to bed.

I don't really feel like writing anything today so Ill post this poem I wrote in English 102. It's not funny. Hell, it's really not even that good. But it has a good message.
One love
Flip diesel
HopeTraveling through the wooded lair,
The darkest dark is all I see.
Gustily winds of crisp cold air
Tussle the leaves of every tree.
 
Shadows dance on cloudy skies
From which a horde of snow flakes fall.
Gruesome groans and fearful cries
Echo through the forest walls
 
Alone in silence I progress
Around a maze of tangled trunks.
No words nor pictures can express
The depths to which my heart has sunk.
 
Distress, despair, and pending death
Have left my spirit all but gone,
But the hope and courage I have left
Allow my soul to carry on.

Big Jeezy for Prez

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Ode to Bill

At 8:04 PM, drich said... I would like for you to explain to the millions and millions of the fd's fans the true story behind the bill laimbeer photo that graces your home page. Hope all is well. The senoritas are awaiting you!
 
The year was 1989. Flip Diesel was just a young tyke, eating his wheaties with hopes of being a champion someday. Life was fantastic. Something was different on this day. The Detroit Pistons were on the Wheaties box this morning, but it wasn't Joe Dumars or Dennis Rodman that caught young Jeezy's eye. It was the big white guy with the cereal killer's glare that captured young flip's curiosity.
 
Bill Laimbeer never had it easy. He wasn't fast, he couldn't jump, and he wasn't very pretty either. Coming out of Notre Dame, he was forced to play in Europe before he would ever set foot in the NBA. Still, he had one undeniable quality: he was badass. He was the badest of the bad boys, and to get through the Detroit Pistons, you had to get through the elbow tornado named Bill Laimbeer. If you were soft, Laimbeer would straight punk you. If you were more athletic, Bill would outsmart you. Bill used every trick in the book, and frustrated a generation of NBA players. And yet he had the love and admiration of his teammates.
 
The year was 2004. Flip Diesel is sitting in the lockerroom listening to another Barry Sanderson speech. Barry is an assistant coach and probably the biggest overachieverr I have ever met. I find it unbelievable that this guy has a high paying division one coaching job, a beautiful wife, and even his own office which he has no use for. I love the guy, but surely there must be somebody better qualified to live his life. Actually Barry is a great guy who deserves everything he has. Anyways, I am sitting here when Barry says "Chap we need you to be an enforcer, Do you know who Bill Laimbeer is?" Suddenly, I flash back to that day i was eating wheaties and see that scary looking man on the box. I reply, "Yeah, I know Bill." And we engage in a discussion on what Bill Laimbeer did for his team, and even hough he was a prick and everybody else hated him, his teammates loved him. So a day later, we go to Clemson to play in our annual rivalry game. I once again get reminded again as my duty as an enforcer, only sit the entire first half on the bench. Still It gives me time to reflect on my past and think about those good days when I was still eating Wheaties. When The Pistons were champions and I was watching cartoons all day. I become inspired and when I get put in the second half, I play inspired basketball. I become one with the aura of Bill and only a minute into the game get warned to watch my dirty play. Still,I felt like Bill was with me that night, and after the game everybody was congratulating me on my successful job enforcing the game. They were all saying, great job Bill. And from that day forth Bill Laimbeer has become a part of me. Almost like an alter ego. So it seemed only appropriate that I pay tribute to him, by placing his picture on my website.

Flip Diesel Presents...Great Moments in American Fatness

At 6:09, Kris DeBlasio said...
 
Jizzle,Have you eaten at that new burrito place called Moes? If you have you know how insanely large their Burrito's are, well try this on for a topic, I ate 2 of them in one sitting to win a bet with the brothers Shyatt!!! Talk about how fat & disgusting a feat that actually is. That would make for great reading!!!
 
Congratulations, Kris Deblasio, you are truly a warrior of rotundness, a prince of pudginess, the king of corpulence. Obese men across the nation salute you. America owes you a debt of gratitude for helping it maintain its position as the fattest nation in the world. But seriously, do you really need to eat two disgustingly large burritos to prove how fat you are. That would be like Donald Trump buying two yaughts to prove how loaded he is. Or Christina Aguilerra banging two of the Wayans brothers to prove how much of a whore she is. The level of your fatness is obvious to everyone and needs no proof. Even the brothers Shyatt have no doubt in their collective mind, that you are larger than the average bear. Still, your feat was impressive and remains a great moment in American fatness.

My Nascar Experience

I am not a racing fan. I never understood the fascination with automobile racing, and I still really don't. However after attending two races last weekend, I have a new appreciation for these events. I didn't think i would ever go to a NASCAR race, but I found it hard to pass up an excuse to drink beer all day. So when my buddy told me he had free tickets, I found a replacement for work and found a drinking partner willing to make the drive to Charlotte with me. The plan was just to go to the race on Saturday, but after 300 miles of binge drinking we made a decision to go back the next day for 600 miles of drunkenness. I really wasn't all that impressed with the race on Saturday, but Sunday was a different experience. We got up at 12 pm, picked up the necessary supplies, and headed to the race track. What should have been a 15 minute drive became a 2 hour tour of camp redneck. If I had been a big breasted woman on this day I could have secured at least a case of beer. I have never seen so many show your tits signs in my life. I even saw a teenage girl holding up a show your cock sign. However, I did not partake because there was no exchange of beers for viewing of cockage. We finally get to the race track after circling around the white trash haven, and our VIP parking pass isn't good for anywhere. After passing the area we were supposed to park in, we decide to keep on driving. We come to a tunnel and security appears to be looking for a lost contact so we drive by.

 We drive through this tunnel and find ourselves in the infield of the race track. We drive by security man after security man and they seem to barely pay any attention to us. So we find a place to park and begin the drinking festivities. We call my buddy's girlfriend who works at a radio station and she runs out to the infield and gives us passes to the pit and tickets to the race. My friends are wearing these ridiculous looking pants that they bought at Walmart earlier in the day, because supposedly you need to wear pants in the pit. So we take our coolers and start walking. We don't know where the fuck we are, but we keep walking until we basically reach the race track and there is no where else to go. This guy finally are told by some guy to get on the other side of the ropes and we are ushered to the pits never once showing our pass. So we fuck around in the pits for about a half an hour until some guy tells us we can't drink beer in the area. Dumbfounded by this discovery, we decide to go to the car to change back into our wifebeaters and replenish supplies. We decide that the best place to watch the race would be directly next to the track, so we head to the fence for the start. On the way we meet this nice lady that was giving free hotdogs away. SCORE! When the race starts I put my earplugs in and can still barely hear myself think. Yet, the ten fat assholes standing on oil drums behind me have no fear of busting their eardrums. After the first 250 miles we find our once bountiful beer supply dangerously low. We make a phone call and find a way to a radio station suite where it was all the food and adult beverages we want for free. When the race finally ended we stumbled back to our car. Unfortunately, because of traffic, our car wasn't going anywhere, but we did have some beverages left. In the distance we saw a stage set up on a pickup truck with girls dancing on it, so we decide to check it out. We go over there and there are two girls on this stage dancing and 50 guys yelling the phrase of the day. As my friend walks off, some guy talks to me and says, "I bet you 20 bucks, your ass wont git up on that der trailer and start dancen with them girls der" So Im like, "Thats a fucking bet buddy." So I go beer and hand and attempt to climb up on some barrels and onto the top of this truck. As I am reaching mount Everest's peak girl number 1 tels me its girls only while girl number 2 feels herself up. So I look to my left where I see some guy yelling at me to get down, and then I look to my right where I see my bet taker shaking his head at me. I tell the guy that they say i got to get down but he says something like "i don't give a fuck" This is where things start to get cloudy. I dont know if I was pulled off or I just fell down in my own drunkenness but the next thing I remember is me on the ground with a guy over me asking if Im alright. All I know is I must have fallen hard as hell, because my back still hurts. Well I get up, not really knowing why the hell I'm still at a Nascar race, and then you guessed it, another redneck comes and talks to me. HE says, "I don't care how tall you is, DON'TCLIMBONMATRUCK!" Im already in pain so I don't feel like fighting a whole trailer park solo, so I say something like "WHatever man, fuck this!" and walk off. And that ladies and gentleman is my NASCAR experience. Nascar isn't really my thing but I did enjoy myself and have newfound respect for it. Maybe the fans arent the most civilized people, but the organization is very professional and it is not out to rip off the fans like some other sports. And best of all, it's bring your own beer.

Who is the idiot that said you can't buy freedom?

I was reading about the Jayson Williams case today. But more than that, I was reading about the history of Jayson Williams. Here is a guy who has repetedly gotten drunk and made an ass of himself. This is a guy who has repetedly escaped legal charges. This is a guy who has repetedly gotten drunk and played with guns. Finally, it appeared that Jayson had finally gotten himself into more trouble than he would be able to escape. He had shot and killed his limo driver and tried to cover up the incident. There was no way that he could escape the law this time. OJ did it, but there were witnesses this time and he basically admitted to the crime. It would take a miracle for him to beat this case (or millions of dollars to get the best defense team money can buy). And I'll be damned if Jayson didn't beat the charges. He basically got away with killing a guy. He has once again proved the fact that with enough money, you can be above the law. My best friend is on the opposite side of the spectrum. My friend was arrested for asaulting a police officer for alledgedly hitting a police horse. In a crowded downtown atmosphere, this officer who obviously loved her horse very much, pointed at my friend who was just enjoying his own drunkenness. Although this officer could not even give a physical discription remotely close to that of my friend, he was still convicted of these charges and jailed for several months for this ridiculous charge. I have talked to my friend, and he swears that he was completely innocent. He has no reason to lie to me. But because he did not have millions of dollars to buy a defense team, he was forced to sit in jail. This kind of thing happens all the time. Why does a guy who robs a convenience store to feed his family, go to jail longer than a rich CEO who doesn't even need money but steals millions of dollars. Companies like Enron, Adelphia, or Tyco have leaders who have stolen billions of dollars and basically ruined people's confidence to invest in the stock market. Because these people have money, its almost like they have a different set of laws. That just aint right. The people who ran these companies are the greediest people who ever lived on this planet. Thats a fact. This country has a ton of greedy people, and the greediest of the greedy saw what these people did, and said "Wow, that's fucking greedy. I wish I'd thought of that. They just made the numbers up. Fuck, that was simple." Imagine this, a father and two sons run a company called Adelphia, and they each take from this company a billion dollars. Three people take a billion dollars. THREE PEOPLE take a billion dollars! What are they going to do, start their own space program. They used 13 million dollars of company money to build a golf corse in their backyard. I am amazed that the people of this company didn't rise as one and slay them. I never understood why the people of France chopped off Marie Antoinette's head, but now I fucking get it. Dennis Kowslowski runs TYCO, he took 463 million from the company because he had a lot of shit to buy. One purchase he made was a $6000 dollar shower curtain. Why the hell would you spend this much money for a bathroom. You could have a golden toilet, but you're still going to take a dump in it. These people deserve to do hard time for what they did, but they won't. Our president says they should do ten years in prison, but our president is not in touch with reality. He's not, because it's not enough time. It really shows a lack of respect for the people who were fucked over. These people commited crimes, and we don't even know the level of damage that they did. But chances are, they won't even do ten years, they'll get off and not do anywhere near the punishment they deserve. So I say fuck the legal system, send these assholes to the nuthouse. You don't need a judge or a jury. You just need a nine year-old with common sense. All you say is three people took a billion dollars, and the kid goes "That's fucking nuts!" These people should be forced to sit for twenty years next to someone who is crosheying something that isn't there. Justice must be served.
One

Thanks Tayshaun

If you watched the playoff game tonight, you probably saw the play that Tayshaun Prince made to win the game for the Pistons. He blocked the weak ass breakaway layup that the Grampa Reggie threw up to tie the game. As you can see by my Bill Laimbeer picture, I am somewhat of a pistons fan. But the thing that made this great hustle play truly special in my heart was that it was Reggie Miller who got his shot blocked. Let me tell you a childhood story. I used to be one of the biggest Reggie Miller fans in the country. I had all kinds of Reggie Miller posters, Reggie Miller's authentic jersey, Reggie's allstar jersey, Reggie's game shoes, and over 100 Reggie Miller basketball cards. There was seriously something wrong with me. My dad knew how much of a fan I was so he tried to do something really cool for me. My dad knows Larry Brown who was the coach of the pacers when I was 13 years old. So when the pacers played the Bucks that year my dad talked to Larry and took me into the Pacers lockerroom. So I go into the locker room with my Miller jersey on, in search of my childhood hero. I go in there, and there he is walking towards me. I'm like "Reggie, Reggie" and My dads like "Reggie can you talk to my kids" and guess what. The asshole walks straight past us, and goes to the training table to get his scrawny ass stretched. He could have taken 20 seconds out of his time to at least give me and my brother a five and say whats up whiteboys. But no, he felt compelled to completely ignore us, like we were just some dogshit on the lockerroom floor. So, fuck Reggie Miller. Fuck him , he looks like a black Steve Buscemi without hair. (man, thats ugly) If he would have dunked that shit, instead laying up like a bitch, the pacers may have won tonight. Hey Reggie your time is up, retire pleeeease. I don't hold a grudge against this man, but it did hurt my feelings at the time. 9 years later, I am actually happy Reggie did ignore me. It taught me a lesson to treat all people with respect, especially kids. I will always talk to anybody that come up to me no matter who they are. I will make time to sign autographs for kids even if I am busy. My time is not that important that I need to completely disregard someones existence. It may be a pain in the ass, but if someone looks up to me, the least I can do is give them a few minutes of my time. That's what Bill Laimbeer would do.
One Love
Flip Diesel

I now pronounce you man and man?

Yesterday, queers from around the state gathered in Boston to celebrate the approval of gay marriage in Massachusetts. Yes, the same state that persecuted hundreds of women in the town of Salem because of their magic powers, now has the most tolerant policy on marriage of any state in the U.S. The same state that saw a bunch of oped up old men dress up like indians and dump over a half a million pounds of tea into the harbor has celebrated this event just over 231 years later by bringing together lesbians and gays who share a special love. Massachusetts has once again cemented its legacy in American history. Now homosexuals like Ellen Degenerous, Tracy Chapman, Elton John, and Clay Aiken can sigh a breath of relief because a change has been made. One person you won't see in Boston getting drunk with the gays is flip diesel.

I am not homophobic, and I believe in equal rights and hate discrimination, but I think you have to draw a line somewhere. The principle of marriage was founded with the idea of man and woman. Whoever started this whole marriage thing probably did so without the idea of two guys getting their freak on being brought into discussion. Man was meant to be with woman, and woman was meant to be with man. If you follow common religious practices, besides buddhism, your religion tells you that homosexuality is wrong. If you do not follow any religious teachings, you can look at the simple fact that in nature, more often than not, males mate with females. This is how it has been done throughout time. Last time I checked you still need both a penis and a vagina to make a baby. Sure there is artificial insemination and even cloning, but the origin of creation still remains the same. If we had a planet full of married gay people, we would become extinct. I don't think people should be treated differently because they are gay, but we should not change our traditions that were founded for a specific purpose. Maybe gays have a right to be socially accepted in america. But I do not think it is healthy to celebrate homosexuality, which is what marriage is (a celebration). We should not adapt our culture for something that is unnatural. Hypothetical situation. Say I fall deeply in love with a chimpanzee. I want to spend the rest of my life with this monkey. Should the laws be changed so that I can marry this monkey and collect tax benefits? No, I would have to deal with the fact that my feelings were unnatural, and I would have to spend my entire life with this monkey unmarried. I could live with that, and people like RuPaul should do the same.

Show Some Love for the 24 hour Restaurant

One of my favorite pastimes has been to visit 24 hour restaraunts in the early hours of the morning. These establishments will always hold a very special place in my heart. When I was in high school, George Webbs was the restaurant of choice, but now IHOP reigns supreme. There is so much to love about these restaraunts besides the fact that they are open as long as they can just squeeze by health inspections (IHOP barely survived last year) The food is always good because you are usually drunk and hungry as hell. If you are overweight, there is almost always one person who is fatter than you ever will be. No matter who you are with, you can always find something to talk about. And of course there is always the atmosphere. When I visit these places I am usually fairly intoxicated, so I dont remember very much. However, the memories that I do have are truly spectacular. Some of the most interesting people you will ever meet, also partake in extremely late night dining. 3:30 to 4:30 is usually primetime, but you can find a wide variety of freaks all the way up to about 6:00 a.m. when normal working folk start venturing in. Just last Friday I was walking in to IHOP when this lady in a red dress catches my eye. Then my friend says look at that lady in the red dress, so I decide to take a closer look. This wasn't the normal late night skank that you usually see standing in line. This was the ugliest transvestite I have ever seen. While I am staring at this monstrosity, a fight breaks out in the back of the restaraunt. This guy who is clearly a flaming homosexual, gets pushed into a table spilling water all over the place. The two gladiators are then escorted out of the restaraunt by a cop with the spitting image of Steve Urkel. If that is not entertainment, I don't know what is.

Racism in America

We live in a racist country. I see it everyday in the great state of South Carolina. Every time I go to Club Revolutions (which is every time too many) I hear somebody say "look how tall that whiteboy is." Why do I have to be the tall whiteboy? Why can't it be tall guy? And who came up with names like honky and cracker anyways. That shit doesn't make any sense. Racism is everywhere, even in the cereal industry. Just look at Trix the Rabbit.  He just wants some cereal.  Those little jerks sit there and say "Oh no, you can't have any." And then when they eat it, the world turns colorful, everyone except the Rabbit.  He stays white.  So this obviously isn't a sharing problem, it is racism. Just because he is a rabbit he is expected to eat carrots and lettuce. What if he is sick of lettuce and carrots and is looking for a fruity alternative. He is shit on by these little kids. They are not even adults and the think they know everything about rabbits and can boss around this adult rabbit. Ill tell you what, one of these days the rabbit is gonna go off these kids Hannibal Lecter style and sprinkle their carcasses of his trixs.