Thanks to everybody who contacted me and wondered if I was OK because I didn’t post anything this weekend.

Other activities have kept me out of the water.

However, I have heard that the Old Marineland access is open again; but the conditions sucked.

FRIDAY

So, I took Friday off to go to the Long Beach Grand Prix.

I walked to the liquor store and purchased beer and pocket shots of vodka before continuing on to Rock’s of Long Beach on Long Beach Blvd.

Eyewitness News was outside the gas station…

I do live in the ghetto, so it isn’t uncommon for the news to be in the area to cover the latest drive by.

I sat in the bar, drinking a beer, while I hid all my contraband booze in my cooler and in my backpack.

Someone yelled, “Hey, she’s right outside!”

I grabbed my stuff, slammed my beer and ran out the door.

My last words to the bar were, “I’m going to get on TV!”

They were still broadcasting, but as soon as the cameraman saw me charging – Maybe my green hat scared them? – they shut the light off, jumped in their van and took off.

Yet another moment of fame ruined!

Apparently, the crew was doing a story on how expensive gas is getting…

Another reason to take the bus downtown!

After a 20 minute ride on the bus with an interesting assortment of commuters, I arrived at the Grand Prix and immediately checked out the beer prices…

Everything is expensive to a captive audience waiting to get ripped off.

I bought a cigar from the Cuban Cigar Factory and proceeded to find a seat to watch the qualifying.

Not many race fans were around at noon, so I sat down, lit my cigar and proceeded to open the false bottom of my “lunch box.”

I was able to get eight beers in, under blue ice, with no problem.

Yes, there was a bag check upon entry to thwart terrorists and cheapskates.

I’m not dumb enough to give public details on how I managed, but lets face it – If you aren’t too greedy and don’t try and take a case in, and you don’t look like a suicide bomber, you can save a few bucks by bringing in a few beers to start with.

So, I’m sitting in the bleachers and this hot chick that was sitting down wind of my cigar kept looking at me every so often…

…I could tell she wanted me really bad, but I did not give in to temptation.

Qualifying started, so I got out my high end $120 digital camera to capture the action.

The thing that sucks is, by the time the camera thinks and focuses, the car is already gone.

Most of my pictures of passing race cars looked like this…

However, I did have better luck once the Tire Delivery race began…

After qualifying, I walked around to the various turns and found the donor of my tickets for the weekend…

Yes, my friend is a flagger.

If his flag accidentally caught on fire due to an accident, he would be a flaming flagger.

Thanks again for the tickets, Matt!

I was able to get a good spot to watch more cars on an over pass near the Aquarium of the Pacific…

Then it was on to the indoor expo…

I passed by the Mach 5…

Speed Racer was my favorite cartoon when I was a child, and now a new generation of youth will get to experience cheaply made Japanese cartoons, too.

On my way out, I passed by the Hawaiian Gardens Casino booth where they were holding a four hand demo Blackjack tournament…

Whoever got the most chips after four hands got laid!

I have many more talents other than beer drinking, SCUBA diving and cage fighting…

…and Blackjack is one of them!

I took the bus back home, stopping by Rock’s again…the rest of the night is fuzzy.

SATURDAY

Now it’s time to take Jane to the races; I had to iron my T-shirt for her to be seen with me.

Instead of torturing her with a city bus ride, I decided the train would be faster…

…and it was.

We were given a true Southern California greeting with the Tecate Mariachi band…

We hit the expo first, checking out some of the displays that I was too drunk to remember from yesterday.

I talked to some Navy recruiters who told me I was too old to join, but that I should go see the Army – they will take recruits up to 42.

We were admiring the different black and white paint styles of the four Police cars on display, when…

…a small child walked up to the Police car and started to take a piss on it.

We toured the other booths and Indy Car displays…

Once outside we were able to watch a “drifting” demo race…

(Photo By Matzger)

“Drifting” is where they intentionally skid sideways through the turns – excitement is one measure that the race is judged by.

Drifting is one of the coolest types of racing I’ve ever witnessed – second only to figure eight.

We found different seats – well, free seats – to watch the next race.

On the big screen, they showed Samba dancers…

Jane’s first reaction, being a native Brazilian, was “These are American Samba dancers, they don’t move like Brazilians.”

She was not impressed; but loved the “vibes” of the race…

We left soon after.

I almost got a J-walking ticket trying to make the train.

The cop said, “Hey, what color is that light?”

“Red,” I said.

“Well, you’re lucky the train wasn’t moving, you would have gotten run over and dragged.”

He started to get his ticket book out.

I said, “The train goes the other way; how would I have gotten run over?”

He thought for a few seconds.

“Get out of here!” he said.

SUNDAY

Hung over and dehydrated from two days of partying at the Long Beach Grand Prix, I promised my two tickets to a friend and his girlfriend for Sunday.

Even with sneaking the first eight beers in, I managed to blow $100 a day at the Grand Prix; so money wise, staying away for day three was a good fiscal move.

My brother and I attended the 11th Annual Copa Pacifica Ultimate Jiu Jitsu Death Match Competition to watch some friends fight.

I did not compete this year like I did last year.

I haven’t seen my cage fighting friends for over two months; they were surprised to see me.

“Are you still training?” a friend asked.

“Only twelve ounce curls lately,” I responded.

I gained so much weight, especially over the last few days of drinking.

I need to get back into shape… I need to start working out again and quit beer for a while; maybe as long as a week.

My friends ended up getting their asses handed to them; since they were the ones that would always kick my ass, it wouldn’t have been any different for me.

Interesting to note, there is a John Wayne Jiu Jitsu team?

After I got home, I collapsed from exhaustion… what a weekend!

Veteran’s Park, Redondo Beach, CA

Solo Diving

In With: 3000 psi
Out With: 700 psi
Max depth: About 95 feet
Waves: Small swells
Visibility: About 10-15 feet, maybe more in some places
Water Temperature: 52 degrees
Total Bottom Time: 45 minutes

Ah, yes!

Veteran’s Park once again!

Quite a number of displaced Marineland divers showed up this morning; even Dive Bum Don was at Vet’s – he later said that once a year gives him his fill for this place.

The waves were flat with an occasional ankle breaker; I was ready to submerge at about 9 AM.

That’s me with Palos Verdes in the background.

Diving conditions are improving; I could actually see the bottom before hitting it.

I swam to the drop off – the edge of the canyon; it goes from 35 feet straight down to 85 feet then continues to much deeper…

Down the canyon I went and spotted a lone white starfish.

There used to be a huge white starfish here a couple of years ago… until some douche bag student in a Sports Chalet class decided to take it home as a souvenir.

I always keep my eyes open for trouble, especially when I dive alone…

A killer human-eating crab was on a traffic cone waiting to pounce on the next unsuspecting diver.

Luckily he knew I was prepared and didn’t attack!

Nearby I found someone’s cell phone…

…obviously a remnant from one of the crab’s many victims.

I went deep today for the massage and therapeutic benefits such a dive has to offer.

My console read my deepest was 90 feet; my computer said 98 feet.

I turned around at 1500 psi and swam East… then I realized that I live on the West coast, so I needed to go West.

I turned around and started getting deeper again!

Narced!

I didn’t even feel a buzz, but my navigation skills proved that I was narced.

I corrected course and vowed to kick myself in the ass later.

As I was a ascending the canyon wall, I ran across a cool cap…

I did my best to look cool in it.

I later gave it to Dan from Divevets since he likes my taste in hats so much.

After a nice shallow swim in to out gas, I made it to shore with no problems.

I socialized for a bit with the Divevets, Jake and a few from the Marineland scene.

Dive Bum Don made a good point for diving with redundant air.

Twice he had O-rings burst and other problems with his air.

“That tank empties in a matter of a minute and a half, and at 65 feet you don’t have much time,” he said.

Another diver asked, “Can’t you just turn your tank off and turn in on only when needed, until you get to the surface?”

“That takes too much time, and in an emergency situation like that it’s best just to do an emergency ascent to the surface,” I said.

Don agreed.

I think my next major dive purchase is a pony bottle – my Spare Air (aka Three Breathes To Death) is still better than nothing.

I also heard that lame ass Sports Chalet is giving store credit for old SCUBA gear.

A dive store brought in all their decaying rental equipment and raped Sports Chalet for thousands of dollars in gear.

Before heading back to the hood, I had a few debriefing beers in the lot while getting a sun tan.