As most of the monkeys know, I'm on Jason Ellis' show every Monday to talk about MMA, T&A, and lmnop, but this is a funny ass video I make a cameo in- this thing is hilarious, and homosexual if you listen to the lyrics.
...actually I didn't leave my apartment complex if you want to get all technical, but I lived like a hermit, just the same. While burrowed deep in my cave, I figured "May as well do laundry." actually I yelled out loud "PICK A TASK AND DO IT NOW." really helped motivate me to do it. After about a minute of sifting through a rubble pile in my guest bedroom, sniffing each individual item to determine where to stick it, I lost interest and began staring out the window.
I looked down at my strange street in Hollywood, and up into the blue blue sky. I thought about everything and nothing at the same time. As I got deeper and deeper into my thoughts,doing laundry, stopping to stare out the window, and I realized that I must look like a teen suicide public service announcement, the announcer comes on as the scene goes gray, "You can help prevent this. Do a fighters laundry." That thought made me giggle and turn my view to the street below.
A guy furiously walking back and forth, dialing on his cell phone, then my building box, white guy, wearing cargo pants and a white shirt, his buddy, a skinny black kid with glasses following close behind. So Cargo and the Shadow are kickin around the front of my building looking nervous. Dogs are on the lawn across the street pooping, looking not nervous at all, I can't leave my house, and wish I was pooping on a lawn. His owner picks up the droppings and moves on, and I realize that the white kids t-shirt is a Proelite.com T-shirt (MMA site) that I gave to homeless charity or tossed in the trash, and the black kid looks entirely too much like Tyrone Biggums to not be him.
Here is my generic answer I gave to the press- although I truly believe it, I think its much too broad and bland-
I think that Evan Tanner is a legendary man, and unfortunately like all true legends, has passed. I didn't have the opportunity to really get to know the man, so really, who am I to say anything about him, but I know this- he lives on in his warrior spirit- something we can all just attempt to emulate.
Ok. All this is true, but seems to me that he was much more complex and deep than one can understand on the surface. I wish I was that deep. You read my blogs and giggle at my wackiness, but when I would read his blogs I would often think deeper, searching for deeper meaning in simple digitized characters. Often I'd catch myself feeling compassion and understanding for a guy I didn't know at all.
Some opportunistic journalist should write a posthumous biography about Tanner. He seemed to have lived an amazing life, rife with excitement, being the UFC champ, adventure and apparent struggles with alcohol, drama with women, and an untimely death that fit right into his heroic lifestyle.
Actually maybe we should let the legend remain legendary.
I went to high five people over at MMA Elite in Fresno (which is an uber dope shop if your in fresno) and I rolled through a Dennys on a late night after the Cage Combat for a veggie omelet and some laughs with the T*U Legionaire and company, when I ran into this .. this guy is epic. He was wearing high heeled pointy toed shoes, and along with his obviously glorious facial "hair" provided by sharpie, he had the best mullet in known existence.
This photo is not doctored.
The only other place I could imagine him besides working security at a Fresno Denny's, which he was, is in all black combat gear with a small machine gun, sprinting saving the world from himself. That's right, he would have an evil twin hellbent on world domination.
My haircut is currently pretty bad. Not so bad that people openly laugh in my face, but, bad. So bad that my friends comment and then laugh. Wait, damn, they count as people, so I guess it is as bad as I first described. It would be worse if it didn't inspire this brog.
It was a sunny afternoon, and things aren't going so bad for young 'hem. Cruisin down Sunset Blvd, in a reasonably priced and fairly fuel efficent truck things could be worse- no visible problems, aside from the fuzzy head I just noticed in my rear view on the way to Ralph's to pick up some almond butter, paper towels and hockey tickets (toilet paper). Thinking quickly to fix this ewok-like hairstyle I turned on my barber pole radar and quickly received a ping, and presto, directly adjacent from Ralph's grocery store, with a friggon parking spot open right in front of it.
"This place looks legit." I thought, in the way that schizophrenics hear in stereo. "It has a rotating pole, a cruddy sign with the owners name on it, and smells like chemicals," the voice in my head then paused to let me enter. Inside was a cute black chick about my age and an older black dude, kinda pudgy and wearing fubu or something else unfashionable. The chocolate bunny mustve had something better to do, so she left the moment I looked like I was staying.
"Its an older black dude, and you want a short haircut, perfect, they always know how to hook it up" my brain said but then retorted "that's fucking racist dude, you're judging his haircutting on his skin tone- 'haircut profiling' if you will." The voice came back again, "yes, yes I am but I am just drawing from my experience, and how many good short haircuts have we got from older black dudes, as compared to the child molester/Nicholas Cage looking guy on melrose?" Touche' voice 1, touche'.
"Have a seat. I can take ya now." Pudgey Older Black Man says, "What can I do for you?" in a tone that was nice enough. "Trim it up man. I want to get it faded down to the skin, maybe keep some of the top." (For future installments of the strip of doom.) I guess I shouldn't have said the word "skin" because that is all he heard and before I could look up I had half a bowl-cut. "Aw damn, man.. I, aw.."
Head molested- I was now a bit bummed out. I attempted not to yell while I was explaining that I didn't mean to shave the sides of my head and another poor sap walks in. I didn't really listen to their conversation, I just grinded my teeth and looked in the mirror picking up bits from POBM like "Can't take ya til 4." And "Other guys not in til 5" basically stretching a conversation that could've took 1 minute into a Mesazoic period of a me having a bad haircut. I whined, he said - "I can fix it. Just relax." Relaxing was not an option. He just buzz sawed my head. As he continued to hack away, voices 1 and 2 were arguing about punching Bopm or whatever acronym I made up for him in his stomach.
"There ya go!" he exclaimed. As my fingers searched my head I realized he left 2 giant tufts of hair above my ears, like some strange peacock. "DUDE, COME ON!" my internal voices spouted out loud.
Me: "If you left this and I can see it, I can't imagine what you missed that I can't see."
Pobm: "Naw, naw, you see look in the mirror, this here was done according to precision instruments."
Me: "What does that even mean?"
Bopm: "Here I'll fix it."
Me:"....."
As he removed the two feathers from the sides of my head, I looked down and realized my face my, my arms, my legs were all covered in hair. "Enough already" my voices agreed.
Me: "Man, basically, this is the worst haircut I have ever had. I really don't think I should have to pay for this."
Bopm: "you know what? Its free"
*Tearing the smock off me*
Me "You know why?!*
*pointing at my butchered head*
"BECAUSE IT LOOOKS FREE!"
and I was out. So fired up, I forgot to go grocery shopping. Stupid.
Crazy Ryan, Ryan Loco, Ryo Chonan, Ken Yamamoto all make appearances along with yours truly. Enjoy. Unless you are a kid, because there's some language.
This is the last sign of the impending apocolypse, Bennigans is filing for bankrupcy and closing its doors. Fucking BENNIGANS.
Where the hell is a self respecting 16 year old suppose to go on a date with his girlfriend, drop his dad's car keys in the toilet AFTER he took a dump in it, then ax-kick the coat hanger off the stall door and fish them out, returning to the table calm cool and collective a mere moment later?
Yeah, that happened to a young me. Well, we won't have the potstickers anymore, but at least we'll have the memories.
People keep asking, so here, basically Tiki, who owns the Huntington Beach Ultimate Training Center has recently been on a Throwdown hating streak, that has extended to ripping the shirt off of Cheik Kongo as he walked into the gym to train. It is no secret in the MMA industry that Throwdown has ripped off EVERYBODY- fighters, vendors, right down to the guys who printed the first shirts, and the former VP. Well these guys were in some club and forgot that Tiki is the godfather of huntington beach.
Wearing my mayhem monkey shirt I get more attention than when I just wear my lime green undies. Recently I was rocking my shirt walking through the mall and every chick took a couple of glances. I was pretty pumped, and carried this confidence all the way to my favorite Los Angeles Hawaiian BBQ that is run by Chinese people.
As I was seated waiting for my foodles and sipping my Taro shake a chick walked by the door and said "Hey! Sweet shirt!" now this chick was pretty kick ass looking, in a Hollywood punkrock way. I noticed really clean tattoo work, and decided to return the compliment, "Uh, sweet.. Tattoos!" I spat, betwixt sips of Taro shake. "Yeah? You like this one?" she said from out the front door of my peoples store, and displayed her forearm wich featured a skeleton man standing triumphantly eating a bloody human heart.
Holy shit. This chick is hardcore. Now I really appreciate her seal of approval. "Kick Ass." I said and really meant it. A shout of "BAWBEECOO CAWMBO!" broke this meeting of the minds and I smiled and got up to grab my runch prate.
As sat back down to enjoy my meal, I noticed Randy the friendly security guard shooing off the homeless, including my new girlfriend. That's gangster. Homeless punkrock chick certified, Mayhem Monkey Tee.
