The partying and tomfoolery has been pushed aside in lieu of weight training sessions with the scud and power balance bracelets.
I want 30 comps a year in terrible waves, bitches, drugs and 5 to 10 years max to party your tits off and get a few results before fading into the obscurity of the former pro surfing abyss. Becoming so unknown that twelve year old frothers don't even recognise you working at a local surf shop for $15 an hour, but Dale Simcoe will remember the time you made the quarters at the Drug Aware Pro and had a rad section on a Tracks VHS.
Better yet, I wish I was Brad Gerlach
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