The time I woke up at 6am in the shower...

I don't remember what I did that night, who I was with, what I drank or where I drank it, what I smoked, how I got home, when I got home...all I know is I woke up at 6am laying down naked in the shower with the water running and my underwear next to me in the tub.

Must have been a rowdy night!
Now that's hoodrat.
-S. Walling

The time we stole shit at Blanca

Sometimes, clubs in Orange County try soooo hard to be LA. Sometimes, it's up to me and my friends to remind them that they are in Orange County, are not that cool, and they are bound to be fucked with if they don't act right.

Welcome to Blanca in Newport. Never heard of it? Well it's gone now, cause they were trying to serve booze to minors and they got shut down. While in business, however, we decided to have a few nights there where we continuously fucked with the staff. We usually started out at The Elks Lodge only a few doors down where Bootz is a member, and where we drank $5 pitchers and $3 well drinks till we were hammered enough to walk down the docks to Blanca and raise a little hell.

So this night, we got all liquored up for pennies at the Elks and went to Blanca. The staff was being particularly douchey this night, so Cosmic Dave made the first move and decided to sneak into the bar and steal a bottle of booze. We took the bottle out to a table outside and took ourselves a seat, passed the bottle around and rolled a joint. Turned out that one of the girls who came to our table to hang out was the promoter for the night, who was none too pleased with our stealing of the bottle and drinking for free, but we convinced her to drink with us instead of ratting us out. She obliged.

Then there was the bouncer who put up a chain blocking people from using the biggest and most convenient entry way from the outside to the inside bar. I was displeased with his quest for power, as the doorway he was blocking was typically the main entry exit. I got yelled at for holding up the chain and letting people pass through. After a second or third time getting caught passing through it myself, I got fed up and decided it was time to prove a point.

We got one of the girls to distract the bouncer while I disconnected the chain on both sides, stuffed it in my jacket, then walked away past another bouncer. I exited the club, stashed the chain in the bushes and tried to sneak back into the club. I ran into the bouncer who had already yelled at me for sneaking in and out under the chain. I thought he was gonna bust me for stealing the chain, but instead he just told me to go around to the front and wait in line again...somehow he hadn't noticed yet that his beloved chain was missing.

We closed out the night by smoking the joint up on the balcony.

It's fun to do bad things,
-S. Walling

The "Born Again Virgin"...

I'll preface this story with the inescapable fact that I have no filter. I say things that I shouldn't on a regular basis. Trust me, this is in no way an effort to be mean or rude, it's just that I happen to say exactly what's on my mind, whether or not it is appropriate....and of course I don't care, it's just my reality.
So, one Saturday afternoon, some friends and I had been invited to hang at a girl's house down the street who was having a little get together. This girl is a tall, pretty girl with obvious fake boobs. Now when I see a girl with fake tits, I'm automatically assuming that she is promiscuous, after all, she did pay for fake tits for a reason, and if she weren't down to undress, why would she pay for them?
Well at some point during the day, the conversation takes a funny turn when someone says the word "virgin", so I -being not only mildly buzzed, but also more than mildly high- chime in and say to everyone in a facetious tone "I'm a virgin". Then I say to Cosmic Dave "you're a virgin too, right?"
"Oh of course" says Cosmic Dave in an equally facetious tone.
Hunter chimes in "and me too!", all of us trying to get a rise out of the party goers, who we see as our own personal audience.
A few seconds later, the tall, pretty, thin girl with the obvious fake boobs pipes up and says "I'm a born again virgin". Her comment got a good bout of laughter from myself including a "hahaha, good one!", followed by a few chuckles from my buddies (not sure if they were laughing her comment, or laughing at me for mocking her stand for celibacy), which was followed by a nice long awkward silence on the patio...then everyone went on their merry way conversing again and let it slide, so I forgot all about it.
You see, apparently she was serious. I did not actually get to the bottom of that until later on in the afternoon when she pulled me aside in the kitchen and scolded me for scoffing at her plea of decency in front of all her friends. At some point in her life (post-paying for her tits and likely showing them off to many people) she had a revelation and decided to become a "born again virgin". She told me she was upset that I scoffed at her statement, to which I replied "but it was hilarious!". Needless to say, I don't think we'll be invited over anymore.
Ya know, it's not like I was trying to offend the girl, I just thought she was chiming in on the same joke that we all were making about our sexuality. If that were the case, she would have been even more witty and clever than the rest of us to bust out the "born again virgin" joke...but she meant it, and it wasn't a joke at all.

Open mouth, insert foot
-S. Walling

Parking by the beach is a bitch...

Let's face it, everyone wants to be near the beach, especially on the weekend nights when we're all partying. So the first thing to be gone around 5:oopm on a friday evening around here is available on street parking...the very next thing to go is my sobriety, if I ever regained it after Thursday night.

In order to properly tell this story, I need to give you some details of how the night started...

So one night after recently moving in to a new place, my new roommate and a girlfriend of hers went out to the bars for a few drinks. Well, they being girls had only a few drinks, and I had a lot. This was only after we rode bikes to the bars...which was only after I made a togo cup coctail concoction. I had to make the concoction since we had no plastic cups. Anyways, here's the insructions for your coctail togo cup, should you ever find yourself without any plastic cups, but for some reason a plethora of Birthday Cone Hats:

Step 1: Grab your Birthday Cone Hat...put tape on the folded over part to prevent leakage.












Step 2: Pour in that liqour...(don't forget to fill the flask back up for the bars)












Step 3: Pour in that mixer...









Step 4: hop on your bike and drink up on your way to the bar

So we rode our bikes to the bars, I pounded the cone, drank another flask, drinks at the bar, etc etc...and all the sudden I'm far more intoxicated than anyone else.

My roommate and her friend collected me from the group of girls I was entertaining with stories of revelry, as we were getting picked up for a free ride home. The drive was only about 2 minutes, but the search for parking was racking up time and getting way too tedious.

I noticed a spot that was several feet too small for our car (or anything other than a smart car) with a 1990's mercedes in front and something else in back. The Benz had about 3 feet in front of it's wheels to the red zone, so I decided to do what any drunk, persistent, show off would do:

I climbed into the Mercedes through it's opened sun roof and unlocked the car...put the car in neutral (and this was an automatic...not sure why I was so certain it would work, and not sure why it did work), and pushed the car out of our way so we could park. Put the mercedes in park and locked in once again.

First night out with my new roommate and her friends, and already I had a reputation as a hoodrat. They were impressed enough to document my homemade togo cup for your viewing pleasure, but as far as the climbing in the stranger's mercedes (which could well have been mistaken for Grand Theft Auto if the owner came out), some things are better left undocumented.

-S. Walling

PS- Final note here...I find that when you bring a flask(s) to the bars, it's fun to go up to the bartender and lie and say "can I have a soda? I'm the DD tonight..." and then fill up your free soda with the booze you brought. Where it gets really good is when you keep going back for those free sodas (cause after all "you're driving") and keep filling it up with your booze, and your speech starts to slur as you've drank more and more of that booze from your flasks...will the bartender notice your speech start to slur? Will he call you out for lying and make you pay for those sodas? I think that's my next test at a bar...

Leaving for Las Vegas

2 Mini kegs for the drive out
1 Mexican Ice chest
20LBS of ice
1 Bottle of Vodka
1 Pack of Cigarettes
No Clean Clothes
Party Bus
Rental Car to get home

This is gonna be fuckin HOODRAT!

Ladies and Gentlemen...God has smiled upon us

That's right kids, that's a Newcastle draughtkeg. For years now, we've only had the option of drinking the shitty Heineken draughtkeg if we wanted to pull a party stunt like drinking out of one of these things. But now, alas, after all this time...I introduce the Newcast Brown Ale draughtkeg.

I was at my local Albertson's yesterday when I spotted this heavenly blessing. I know what you're wondering...and yes, I made a scene in the middle of the beer aisle...yes, I started cursing loudly in excitement and proclaiming my love for Newcastle...yes, people in line were in awe of my forthcoming purchase...yes, they left the line and went and grabbed one too.

In my years of debauchery, I've drank more Newcastle than any other beer. I'm definitely not the pussy that complains "oh, it's too heavy for me"...or, "I can only drink 1 or 2 of those". No no...I'm the guy who has walked uninvited to the storage room of grocery stores in search of their last case of Newcastle. And I found it. Unfortunately, I've been getting a bit bored of Newcastle lately. Maybe it was due to overconsumption, maybe it's just not that great of a beer...but whatever the case, my faith was restored when they released the draughtkeg.

I drank all 5 litres of it last night.
Then went to the bars.
Then woke up in my bed at 10am with no idea of what how I got there.
Time to go to Vegas.

Too $hort is a hoodrat

I mean...he basically invented the word "BITCH".

Too $hort, why you say those nasty words? Cause he doesn't give a shit about anything.

Breaking the hoodrat mold...but just for a second

PLANET EARTH IS THE MOST UNBELIEVABLE THING I HAVE EVER SEEN!

I can't even believe how amazingly beautiful this planet is.

Did yo uknow there are fresh water dolphins?!? What the fuck?

Make sure you buy the BBC version, cause David Attenborough is a better narrator than Sigourney Weaver.

Per my discussion on "not caring about anything"...

I decided to make a simple, but very detailed bargraph to represent when, and how often you should give a fuck. Blow this up and put it up on your wall if you need a daily reminder. Since I've obviously mastered the art of not caring, you'll notice that the frequency of days I do care has a beautiful contrast to the days I don't...


Best wishes on your quest for not caring about anything,
-S. Walling

Pissing the bed is not hoodrat...but pissing the bed with a girl in it, IS hoodrat...

So one night my band had a show up at La Cave in costa Mesa. Every time we play la cave, our friends always show up in full force, get super smashed, and act like complete idiots. This night was no exception.

Just about everyone I know came to the show that night and they were already well on their way to hammered before they got there. I was a little worried about how they would look in front of the booking agency that came out to see us that night...but whatever, this is rock and roll.

I knew it was gonna be a good night when I walked in the door and a girl walks up to me and introduces herself as Sasha Licious (no joke, that's her name). She was more than mildly attractive and I figured I could woo her with my "slappin the bass" skills. I did.

Anyways, beer got spilled, girls got knocked down and fell on top of pedal boards, shit got wild, and once we finished playing, I proceeded to play catch up with my friends...taking note that my best buddy Cosmic Dave was nowhere to be found.

We all took cabs home, from the place and continued the party at my next door neighbor's house. I last looked at the clock around 4:30am, and woke up in my jacket, jeans and shoes sitting upright on my neighbor's couch around 7:30am with a massive headache and a bigger urge to get back to sleep in my own bed next door.

I walk up stairs, notice the front door is open, walk back to my room ready to fall face first into bed, but instead, I see Cosmic Dave sprawled out face down on MY bed in a puddle of his own urine. The worst part about this is that he lives only half a mile away, and the girl he had brought over lives even closer, yet for some reason, in his blacked out debauchery mode, he decided to go to my house, get down in my bed, piss himself silly and as a result, piss all over the girl who then woke up and stormed out...leaving my front door open for me.

The moral of the story here, kids, is that drinking 30 beers is not a bad thing, but it's a pussy thing. If Cosmic Dave were any good at drinking hard alcohol, he would have had only half as much fluid in his system throughout the night, and would have never needed the kind of relief that comes on it's own when you're blacked out drunk.

Cosmic Dave was on laundry duty the next day, and paid for an immediate emergency deep steam cleaning of my matress.

Do you know how much it costs to have a heady duty steam cleaning done on your queen sized matress? $65. I have still never pissed the bed.

The only thing that makes this story hoodrat is that he pissed on the girl and got away with it, cause she still digs him. He did not get away with pissing the bed. Idiot.

Next time wear some Pull-Ups,
-S. Walling

It's better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission...

I've got to give my mom credit for teaching me this aspect of being a hoodrat. When you want to do something bad, it's better to ask for forgiveness if you get caught than to ask permission.



You see, if you ask permission to do something bad, most likely you are going to be told NO. That doesn't always mean you won't still do it, but the consequences are worse and someone'll probably be on the lookout for you doing whatever party stunt you were about to pull.



Now, if you don't care about anything, you can feel free to just do whatever you want first...if someone catches you and tries to bust you, you can always ask for forgiveness and play dumb. More often than not, you'll get off with a warning and no real consequences except for maybe a bad reputation...which can be a great asset.



To reference a previous story: do you think the staff at Woody's would have let us smoke a joint on the patio with tons of people around if we asked? No. But since we just did whatever the hell we wanted, they just laughed and noted our hoodrat party stunt. (I'm just now remembering that when I turned around, I realized that an ex-girlfriend had conveniently picked the table right next to mine and the chair right next to me to sit in. She tried to tell me to wash off my ridiculous sharpie mustache...I told her to fuck off cause the babe sitting in my lap didn't seem to mind it. Win.)

"Shit got weird" is bad, "Shit got wild" is good...

I just wanted to clarify something here:
When you send a text to your friends saying "shit got weird last night"...we think that we did something wrong or embarrassing that might have creeped some people out (not that we'd care about anything like that).

When you want to remind us of how hard we all blacked out last night and nobody remembers anything, you should use the phrase "shit got wild last night!".

Recap: "WEIRD" = BAD & "WILD" = GOOD

Either way, we don't care cause we know we must have done some serious hoodrat things so all's well that ends well.


Keep gettin away with it,
-S. Walling

A note on "not caring about anything"...

I've learned this from my good friends Cosmic Dave. One of the keys to getting away with bad things is to literally "not care about anything". Now I understand that can sound selfish (but again, we don't care), but let me further explain to shed some light on the subject and help influence you in your quest for getting away with doing bad things.

We all love our friends and our family and we obviously care about them and wish them well. However, if a judgemental friend/family member/stranger/etc were to say "you don't do anything but party" (which is blatantly not true, cause you also probably surf and play in a rock and roll band and sail and do a bunch of other rad shit) you should look them in the eye and say "I literally don't care about ANYTHING". I think it would help to have a 5th of whiskey nearby to crack open and take a swig out of just to prove your point. The fact is, you know you don't party too much cause everyone knows that Mondays and Tuesdays are typically reserved for NOT partying...and throw in a Sunday off every once in a while and a Tuesday or Thursday off here or there and you legitimately don't party TOO much. Screw them.

Bouncer at a bar or club. If they tell you to stop doing something, why should you stop if you don't care about anything? One time Cosmic Dave danced on top of a pool table to prove he didn't care about anything. One time I sprayed bottles of beer all over a crowded patio at a bar cause I didn't care about anything. One time the two of us together with some friends sat a table on that same crowded patio, smoked a joint in front of everyone there, the staff took note, told us how bad we were, then just walked away. We were very grateful for their compliment of our hoodrat activities.

You see, the main reason to not care about anything is it makes it easier to get away with anything. Then again, sometimes this kinda hoodrat shit gets you kicked out of bars...but it doesn't matter if you don't care about anything.

What makes Liam Gallagher so cool? He literally doesn't give a shit about anything!

Current Affairs

That's a clever title...

Today I officially put the bookend on a 7 day weekend. I've had some equal parts beautiful/poorly influential partnership in crime the last week...not to pass the blame, I've been a "devil" myself and been the source of good ideas to do bad things for the most part.

To get a only a touch in depth on that, as I hate to kiss and tell...a week ago monday I got a text from an acquaintance telling me of plans I should adopt for the night. It sounded like a good idea, so I cancelled a few things for that evening, had a good time, and decided I should cancel everything I was supposed to do the next day as well and drink Bloody Marys in bed. I put in about 2 hours of work between Wednesday and Thursday combined, and decided it was far more important to get back to the weekend.

So I did. Thursday became Friday, on which night I had a Mariachi band play on my balcony, followed by skinny dipping in the ocean with some babes, and that rolled into Saturday morning which started out with a bang, 2 shots of vodka before getting to the pub crawl, then hoodrat activities at said pub crawl (all of which I got away with)...which rolled into me waking up at 6am on my own couch Sunday morning for a church gig. Yes, I was still drunk. Well, drunk for the first service, then hungover for the second. Whatever, I play music better when I'm drunk...and didn't Jesus sponsor a party by turning water into wine once??? Sunday morning quickly ended and Sunday Funday started with a joint, lunch, booze on the beach, BBQ, beers, Drunk MadGab(official game of Hoodrats worldwide), good company and a very slim chance I was leaving my bed for work on Monday.

Boss emailed me Monday morning from out of town saying he'll be back in a week, which meant breakfast beers at Cocos, an afternoon joint and some afternoon delight. Best Monday I've ever had? Yup. To top that off I scored two epic goals in hockey and won the game for my team that night.

Then there was Tuesday...I got dressed for work...got some stuff ready...went to see a client that wasn't there...so I took the rest of the day to myself and decided that I REALLY gotta do some goddamn work tomorrow.

But that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do bad things (all day drinking, drinking on the beach, drunk in public, open container, public nudity, illegal swimming in the harbor, not working for a whole week, smoking marijuana cigarettes, etc etc etc) and get away with it.

How to do bad things with your friends and get away with it.

The Hoodrat Manifesto is a book in the works. Until published, this blog will host funny stories that have already happened, and those that happen along the way.

The Hoodrat Manifesto's mission is to train, educate, influence and encourage doing bad things with your friends. The Hoodrat Manifesto's intent is to help you get away with it. Don't blame the actions and advice of the characters if you yourself cannot get away with the storied acts of hoodrat shit and misdemeanors (mostly).

Ahoy,
-Snoopy Walling