My Backyard Sucks.

I am alot of things(Son, uncle, friend, salesman, gentleman,bullshit-artist, narcisist, asshole, Biff just to name a few!), but the one label that I am most proud of is surfer. I am a surfer. No matter what I accomplish or become in life, I will be a surfer first & foremost. Now the first question that you're probably thinking to ask right now is, 'Just how in the fuck does a guy from Pittsburgh become a surfer?' Well my dear reader I will expound in great detail for you...

There are two notable instances of happenstance that profoundly affected & would help mold the man that I grew into. The first was a family vacation when I was 11 or 12 to Ocean City, Maryland. Ever since I could remember, I have been equally fascinated & drawn to the ocean. It's almost as if Might King Neptune himself shoved a magnet up my ass & involuntarily pulled me toward my salt water destiny. Anyhoo, the Maloy clan arrived in Ocean City & I came across a surboard rental hut. I begged & pleaded with my parents to rent me a surboard. Eventually, they conceded & I was lugging an oversized plank of a board to the ocean. Never having any formal lessons, experience & just not having a fucking clue what I was doing, I entered the ocean blue & paddled out towards some waves. A small wave broke on my head & I was flurled end over end backwards. The force of the wave had propelled my board through the air & found a resting spot on the top of my head! I was knocked for a bit of a loop, but I was undeterred & sloshed around the inside breakers with a big shit-eating-grin on my face. At the end of the day, I returned my rented surfboard & thought to myself, 'We will meet again.' This was my first taste of a stoke. The Webters Dictionary defines stoke as, 'Exhilarated or excited. Being or feeling high, intoxicated.' I look at it as the day some sense was knocked into me & a piece of my life'S puzzle dropped aquarely onto my lap! The second event was a late night a few years later in m parents living room. While trying to find some naked women on Cinemax(My parents had cable & I took full advantage of it!) I came upon a movie that was about a couple of surfers that were planning a trip across the globe chasing waves as the seasons changed. This movie was the legendary Bruce Brown directed, 'The Endless Summer(If you haven't seen this movie. You are a lesser person for it. You must purchase this movie immediately!).' For a few hours my teenaged lusting of naked breasts(And the other parts too!) was put aside & I fixated on the images of surfing & exposition. There was no surfing or ocean of any kind in Southwestern Pennsylvania & it was the middle of yet another very cold, snow-drenched winter. But I felt like Bruce Brown was speaking directly to me when he discussed the freedom of surfing & quite literally getting 'lost in the waves.' Something snapped inside me that night & I remembered that day in Ocean City with the rented surfboard. 'We will meet again.' That night I made a promise to myself that I would move to the beach when I was old enough & would truly become a surfer.

I kept my promise & have been surfing now for 16 years. That's damn near half of my life! My backyard is the Pacific Ocean & I have logged literally thousands of hours in her. Nothing compares to catching a wave. No drug or orgasm has ever given me that pure feeling of euphoria like riding a wave does. It's kind of like when you're driving in your car on a beautiful sunny day and the windows are down with your cupped hand streched out cutting through the wind. It feels like that, except all over your entire body. This doesn't even cover the unique bond that each surfer has with the ocean. This bond is the closest I will ever be to nature. It's just such a fulfilling feeling being one with the ocean as you ride waves that quote possibly started as a ripple in Japan or Hawaii. To be in the ocean is to be connected with nature. The ocean can give you life but also take it. She can be you best friend & other days be one hell of a bitch(I say 'she' because the ocean is a woman. If you don't think so, you're just wrong & probably live in Idaho or some other land-locked state. Sucks to be you!). But she's always been there for me when I needed her. I've had my share of low/dark times. Hell there's been a few times when all I really had was my surfboard! Each of these times I paddled out into the ocean & started catching waves. Figuring things out. Clearing my head. In a few hours time once I was back on the beach, I'd usually wonder, 'Just what exactly was I so upset about again?' I'm a firm beliver that surfing can save your life. Save your soul. Just be open & giver her a shot. You won't be disappointed & it will change your life. She changed mine.

I Biff, therefor I am!

Washington, Patton, Kennedy, Genghis (Shaka-or Wrath of-)Khan, Sting, Cher. What exactly is in a name? Some names inspire you to greatness, while others just piss you off. Some names invoke fear mentioning them in shallow, hushed tones while others are a reason for celebration & reflection. This is the story of my moniker. This is how 'Biff' came to be.

At least once a week I get asked how in the hell the name Biff became surgically attached to my psyche? Once I explain, said inquisitor usually exclaims, 'Well you DO look like a Biff.' All I can say to that is, 'I Biff therefor I am!'

This story begins back in ancient times when JAMZ shorts & acid washed jeans were clothing of choice & Duran Duran ruled the land(God I'm really showing my fucking age here!). I'm talking about 8th Grade in Derry Pennsylvania! That summer the movie 'Back To The Future' was all the rage. It seemed like everyone on the planet had seen this movie that birthed the beloved Butt-head of a bully, Biff. I didn't really pay any mind to this Biff character initially until I strolled into 2nd period English rocking a fresh crew-cut. I had spent the majority of the summer lifting weights like it was my damn job(See the 'Weighting' post previously on this blog. Natch!) so I had bulked up a tad. My best friend Ron instinctively pointed at me & bellowed, 'HA HA HA, You look just like Biff from 'Back To The Future!' Without missing a beat I said, 'Aw fuck you I do not!' This was a grave error on my part. You see I had violated Schoolyard Rule Numero Uno, 'Never, ever let your buddies know that something bothers you because they willl not stop doing it to you!' They will persist! My lovely crew incessantly picked & picked & picked with this 'Biff' until I caved & just started answering to it.

Flashforward to football camp that summer. At the beginning of camp, the coaches put tape on the front of your helmet & write your last name so they know who they're yelling at. Some lovely yahoo thought that it would be funny to write 'Biff' on the front of my helmet. I had been answering to Biff for a good 10 months at this point, so I just left the strip of tape that said Biff on my helmet & jumped into practice. Later on that day the coaches set up an 'Alabama Drill.' An 'Alabama Drill' is when you line up a defender, an offensive lineman & a running back. Your goal as the defender is to get past the blocker & smash the ever-loving-shit out of the running back. It's contolled violence at it's best. Being an angry young man chock full of unrequited, pent up frustration & rage, I obviously excelled at this drill! I lined up. The whistle blew & I let out a growl & ran over the offensive lineman & power-slammed the running back. The coach blew the whiste & screamed, 'Holy shit you fucking killed him! What's your name son?' With fire burning in my eyes & adrenaline firing like a cannon, I scowled & looked up at the coach & exclaimed, 'They call me Biff. That's why it's on my helmet!' 'You're God-Damned right you're Biff' hollered the coach, matching my enthusiasm. Things pretty much snow-balled fom there. By the time that I graduated high school, Tim Maloy was no more. Everyone & I do mean everyone called me Biff. My teachers, my grand-parents, hell, there were even newspaper articles about my wrestling matches & football games that called me Biff.


Flashforward to college. My best friend Ron was my roommate our freshman year & we pledged a fraternity together. Our fraternity brothers loved the fact that this stupid freshman came with a built in nickname. Biff spread like wildfire once again. I'll never forget what my Abstract Post-Modern Communication Theory Professor(This was actually a class. I passed it, but I still don't have any fucking idea what it was about!!!) asked me, 'Why do they call you Biff?' Without hesitating or blinking, I said, "They call be Biff because that's the sound that it makes when I hit someone(Which actually was kind of true!).' He gave a nervous laugh & never called me Tim again. I actually handed in term papers that just said Biff!

Flashforward to San Diego. I moved out the the 'Land of Milk & Honey' with my very good friend Greg. We were lifeguards together on Ocean City Beach Patrol(We'll touch on the 'Ocean City Experience' in future posts. Don't worry, certain names will be changed to protect the guilty! Maybe.) before making our pilgrimage to the Promised Land. One night we're hanging out at 'Longboard's in Pacific Beach & we bump into a girl that used to party with back us in Ocean City. I'm exchanging pleasantries & shots with said vixen, when we passeach other business cards to keep in touch. She looks at my card & her face goes white. She looks up at me very matter-of-factly & mutters, 'Who the FUCK is Tim Maloy?' 'That's me. That's my real name.' ShE throws my card down & yells, 'No, no no! You're Biff! You're our Biff! That other name is not your name & I will never fucking call you that do you hear me!!!!' 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.' 'You fucking ruined my night asshole!' Up until this point I hadn't realized how deep the 'Biff' mythology had taken root in the circles that I had traveled(Yes I know that statement makes me sound pompous, but it's my blog so Fuck you!). With a simple business card I had inadverdently killed an urban legend for this girl, much like Sasquatch or the Easter Bunny.

It's funny, here I am 36 years on this planet & more people call me Biff than Tim. It's not bad. If you think about it, this could have been much worse. What if Ron started called me 'Boner' or 'Booger' or something even more politically incorrect? I've been Biff since the 8th grade & I plan on being Biff for many more years to come. So when I tell people this story(Literally at least once a week!) & they say, 'You know, you DO look like a Biff.' I always say, 'Thank you.' I am Biff.

Mr. Belvedere is a douche-bag.

'If loving pizza & boobies is wrong then I don't ever want to be right!' That's the 1st thought that sprang into my groggy brain as I wiped the sleep out of my eyes. 'What the fuck is wrong with me & why did I say pizza before boobies???' I stumbled over to the toilet & precariously angled the old 'morning-wood' into the toilet bowl to start my day. From there, I bounced around my abrstract bachelor pad on 'auto pilot' making my egg-white omelette & coffee. There's something that I was supposed to do this morning & I can't remember what it is? I glanced over to my clock & realized, 'Oh shit I have a telephone interview for a job that I actually want in 5 minutes!!!! I dashed into my bedroom & fumbled for my phone. I finally found it in my sock drawer. Why the fuck was my phone in the sock drawer??? I have got to stop drinking on Tuesday nights! I turned on my phone & it instantly began to ring. Sure enough it's my phone interview. As I'm discussing my qualifications & just what exactly hiring my sorry ass could bring to the party, I glance out my living room window & notice a meter maid placing a ticket under my windshield wiper. I'm not in a red zone & my registration is current. Ugh! Why the fuck is this happening right now??? I asked the interviewer if I could put them on hold for a moment. I opened my door with the full intent of reading this civil servant the riot act when I felt a chill & realized that I was naked! Oh shit! I quickly slammed the door & ran back inside(That's right I was doing a telephone interview naked. Deal with it people!). I was so hungover that I literally forgot to put clothes on while I was shuffling aroung in 'auto-pilot mode' so I just finished the interview commando. I then threw on some clothing & rushed out to view the ticket. With my blood starting to boil, I began to review the ticket & looked up @ the street sign beside my car. 'No parking 1st Wednesday of the month from 9am-11am for street sweeping.' Son of a bitch! Today is the 1st Wednesday of the month & it's 10:30am. Well that's $40 that I'll never get back!

Still steaming from the ticket & the serious anatomy lesson that was almost dropped on an unsuspecting meter-maid, I headed out to my local super-market for some supplies(Egg-whites & toilet paper. God I live such an exciting life!!!). The super-market can be quite an awful experience in the afternoon. The reason is the senior citizens. Yes folks the meek have inherited the earth from between 10am-4pm. They use shopping carts for a single can of kidney beans. They clog up the checkout line bartering with their clipped coupons from the Pennysaver demanding pricechecks because their Depends adult diapers were supposed to be on sale. The list of grocery sins are just too many to post. It was 11:30am as I cautiously crept into the super-market. Sure enough the seniors were there! I picked up my tp & egg-whites & should have gotten the hell out of there, but no, I had a sudden craving for some macaroni salad. I stepped into line behind a gentleman who looked like Mr.Belvedere with a grayish-white mullet & a Christmas cardigan sweater that resembled a rorschach test with reindeer(I'm not even exaggerating here!). I silently thought to myself that he might drive around on a short-bus, but horrible fashion sense aside, he was the only person ahead of me in line, nothing can go wrong riiiight??!? Oh boy! He was in the process of sampling every single type of salad on display, snidely inquiring whether or not the ceaser salad was made from scratch & was I mass-processed & shipped in containers? Who the fuck in their right state of mind asks questions like these??? I silently began wishing painful cancer of the penis on this person. In-between Mr. Belvedere & I was an empty shopping cart which just fueled my hatred of this man. This went on for a good 5 minutes until I was finally @ my breaking point. 'Excuse me, is this your shopping cart?' Mr. Belvedere turned to me, cocked an eyebrow & said, 'Well you know sonny-boy, I don't own the cart per-se. I do believe that it belongs to the super-market!' I gave him the most vicious face-melting stare that I could muster & said, 'You know a simple yes or no would have sufficed.' To this, Mr.Belvedere replied, 'What's wrong? Don't you have a sense of humor?' 'There's a fine line between funny & asshole & you just did a leap-frog over to the asshole-side!' Befuddled, Mr.Belvedere spouts, 'Did you just call me an asshole?' Yes I did & I'd also like to ask you if you're color-blind because It looks like you've puked bloody reindeer all over that sweater!' 'You know what? I'm not even going to argue that statement.' 'Good. At least we both agree on something!"

Finally I get my macaroni salad & quietly wonder if it was woth that conversation that clearly feels like it took years off of my life! While @ the checkout, the cashier looks up @ me & starts to giggle. 'That was sooo funny when you called that guy out back there! I totally though that you were gonna punch him.' Nah, I just bark nowadays. No bite.' As I was speaking to the cashier, I noticed that Mr. Belvedere was shoveling salad down his greedy gullet barely leaving time to breathe. He then started to hurredly move towards the exit. I looked @ the casher & said,'Hey did Mr. Belvedere pay for his salad?' 'No he didn't.' Well you'd better grab him because he's trying to pull a 'super-market dine & dash!' As Mr. Belvedere was led back into the super-market I walked past him, flipped the bird & laughed. In the span of just 3 hrs I had managed to have a naked telephone interview. Get a parking ticket. Piss off the elderly & stop a petty crime. What the hell is going to happen to me this afternoon?

Oh yeah, I had to add in that picture of Adam Sandler with the masturbation quote. That's one of the 1st pictures that popped up when I searched 'Mr.Belvedere.' I just couldn't stop laughing at it!!!