Los Angeles…the good years

*Note: Pictures kinda did a little shits and giggles on me…soooo finally, I think I’ve solved the problem…video expected late july*

My my oh fucking my. The trips done. I can’t believe it. 10 months…splooosh, gone just like dropping a quick shit. Yes I’m now back to the old ground and pound, but I’m making money sooo…here I am just like all the rest of the world. Damn…*silently staring up into the sky as hymful music plays in the background* It’s been a good fucking run though. I’ve said this probably a hundred times.


You wanna hear that again? Well shit, just re-read it. Dang, do I have to do everything for ya? Anyway, here’s having a blasty blast with my buddy Grandpa Beard and seeing Disneyland for the second time in my life’s history.

May 31st was officially the longest day of my entire life. I left Fiji at 10pm (which is night for you army folk)on the 31st and arrived in LA at 1 in the afty on the 31st. *The Delorian swoops to a stop, the door gallantly swing open and Doc Brown sticks his head out*

Hey Marty…er…bobby…we’re heading back in time…hop in


So yeah it was basically like going back in time…crazy shit. Good thing was…I wasn’t really tired. I kinda slept a little on the shoulder of the small asian women next to me, so I was ready to go.

As I’m exiting the airport, this tanned skin hottie catches my eye. She’s pretty small, wearing big sunglasses, has a boyish hair cut, but damn…still hot. Then I realize something…I recognize her. It’s a weird feeling, so I begin to jog my memory of who it might be. I’m going through lists of faces until I realize something…wait…she’s got these massive bouncers beside her aaaand tons of paparazzi waiting….oh shit…its the chick that got the shit beat out of her by chris brown…now what’s her name?


As I’m chatting with my buddy Grandpa beard to come pick me up I pose him the same question…who’s the chick that got beat up by chris brown. He returns the answer…Rhianna…oooo right. As I walk away…a group of female activists glare me down. Hey…don’t give a guy herpies then…(no I do not condone beating girls…I think its down right terrible and no class, but its just a joke…so laugh)

Catching up with Grandpa beard was awesome. Haven’t seen the guy since scuba diving in Thailand and so it was gonna be a siiiick party…and it was.


First off, he was kind enough to show me around the area that he lives. Beautiful beach area called Huntington Beach(suburb of LA) tons of babes running, bladeing and walking around. Great sand, good surf and I even witnessed some douche steal a dudes bike. (the guy ended up chasing the douche down and causing a scene)


After a quick few games of street fighter two it was off to this tiny little mexican place to have a mean burrito and hopefully not get the squeezy shits later. We pounded some beers, chatted with the bar keep and other locals then made our way down the main drag to find a good place to drink, dance and mess with broads.

Finally being 21 I was able to check out the American night life…but after being all over the globe the place we end up is…wait for it…an Irish pub. Ahhh, you really can’t go anywhere without finding these beauties lying around.

We commenced downing yager bombs, beers and chatting of good times. I was transfixed with a screen behind me and a chick attempted to stick a straw in my perplexed and gaping mouth. Ding ding…chatting time. She looked pretty cute…but when she finally moved away from the table that was dividing us…uh…Grandpa beard…you wanna take this one. Turns out he didn’t.


Soon enough the music starts calling to me. My feet start to tap to the beat, my shoulders start to bounce and then…full on convulsions start taking over my body. The dance of nightmares begins. Turns out, I start cutting some mean moves, and with the lack of a dancefloor, people start having to traverse around me. It didn’t take long for a small audience to form watching if I’m going to bust out the running man, the JT slide or better yet, the invisible hat twirl. At the end of the number I stop to sip at my goldeny substance called beer. Three chicks rock up to where I’m standing and drop this bomb.

the dance and stare

the dance and stare

Chicks: We LOVE YOU…you’re an awesome dancer
Me: *choke on my beer*
Me: *looking around to see if someone is playing a prank
Chicks: *looking into my eyes with doggy dinner bowl face*

I recover and smile. BIIIIIIIIIG HUUUUUUUG. Pull them all in and then realize…I don’t know where to go from here. One, I don’t want to dance, two, they are all hot so I don’t know which one to pick and three…I have this beer with is still calling my name.

Arggggggh I hate conundrums.

I end up dancing with the one that keeps grabbing my hand(most logical choice) spin her a few times then prefer my beer to her. Go over to Grandpa beard who is now cherishing in the night with a chick who he had already told me about….great story, made me laugh, but that’s a story for…well…another time.


I decide to go back to the brunette with the nice ass…she starts doing the dirty with me, you know, basically I’m the stripping pole. I pull her away and start chatting, vibing this shit up the gun…tell her how we’ll probably never see each other again, and all that noise, but theeeeen I fuck up.

Her: Yeah I guess we won’t see each other ever again 😦
Me: Well, we definitely could instill this moment so we could remember it
Her: Oh yeah…how
Me: (Now just to note…I should have just gone out for the makeout here, buuuut I don’t know what came over me)
Let’s kiss
Her: Uh…great to meet you (and leaves)


After traveling the majority of the parts of the world, finding my way around by means of local transport and what not, I found LA to have one very disturbing fact. PUBLIC TRANSPORT SUCKS and HAAAAARD. I wanted to get down to Hollywood, bask in the glory of the stars, but after spending a good hour or so on the internet to find the route, realize it would take me over 6 hours to get there and back thus leaving a window of about 2 hours to see stuff…I declined. FUCK YOU LA TRANSPORT

Buuut, all was not a loss. I got to go to…



I hadn’t been to D-Land since I was about 10 or 12, so a few things changed, but I still knew which rides were the best. The toughest thing tho…was meeting up with this stunning Austrian chick who I had previously met in Sydney 😉

Since majority of the chicks I’ve met are pretty sucky when it comes to directions and what not, I made these as simple as possible, buuut it still didn’t help…an hour and a bit later, she finally figured out what I had meant when I said the “BIG GOLDEN STAR IN THE MIDDLE OF THE MAIN ENTRANCE”

Anywho…we met up which was the main part, and D-Land was about to commence. First ride up…Indiana Jones bitches…oh…wait…what’s this? Closed…no fuck that…this cannot be. I was sooo pissed, luckily the guy told us that it should be up and running in the aft. Sooo away we went to find other rides to occupy us with.


Ride after ride, thrill after thrill, line after fucking line. It was a blasty blast of blastations. (sorry no other way to describe it) Not only did I have a joyeous time re-living my childhood through the rides, I got to spend it with this awesome chick. Finally…as all things must it drew to an end. 11pm at night. Yes that’s right folks, I closed down D-Land. (Oh and yes we finally were able to ride go on the Indiana Jones ride…fucking love it…best ride there)

Now…as I mentioned prior…LA has the shittiest public transport ever. Aaaand I had to pre-plan on how to get to Disneyland and back again, however my train only ran until 9pm. Sooo to say the least. I missed it. Also my little Austrian cutie missed her bus as well…hmmm…how convenient.

So I use my professional traveling barter skills to get us a good deal on a cab, but wait…she’s now saying that she doesn’t want to come and crash at my buddies kick ass apartment. *bulging eyes* waaaaaaat. She would rather go back to a 15 person dorm than come to an apartment that is housing an original Street Fighter 2 arcade game…sheeesh, weird, unfortunate, unlucky, just the wrong moment, you name it and it was running through my head. Anyway, I had a great time at D-Land so I didn’t really care.


After saying our goodbyes…which was pretty week for probably the last time I’ll ever see this chick I commence the walk of shame back to the apartment of lords, only to find when I arrived, that I didn’t have the right key to open the door. SHIT. As I’m banging on the door, one of my buddy’s neighbors comes by, takes one look at me and scurries into her apartment and nervously locks the door. Well hopefully she doesn’t call the cops.

More banging and still nothing. Finally, my brain kicks into action…I should call him. Buuut if he’s sooo fast asleep to not hear the banging then of course he didn’t hear the phone. With one last attempt, I begin chucking mounds of poop and dirt at his window. Luckily that wakes him up and I hear a zombie type moan.

I feel like a douche for waking him up, but shit, when you need to get in you need to get in. Once in I feel like an even bigger bag of douchiness supreme as he mentions that the key that opens the top lock unlocks the second one as well…hmmm…glad I saw that.


LA rounded out my traveling parts of my entire trip. Being able to catch up with great friends such as Grandpa Beard and seeing that stunner of a brunette L it was a pretty good going out with the proverbial bang…now…one day in Sin City.


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