(no subject)
K so yesterday Megan picked us all up and Mr. Rice had a very long talk with us about not taking side trips and not doping up, and being safe.
We went to Portland to eat Taco's and I wanted to talk to John Biswell.
He said that the tattoo I want would run me about $150 and that I could come in sometime next week.
I'm excited.
The ride down following this, consisted of getting lost for 2 hours, and laughing our asses off, and Shawn singing Whitney Houston at the top of his lungs, and seeing real nature.
We got there and bought sweet shirts, and found our seats which were surprisingly good.
I would have liked to have been on the florr, but that's what you get when you buy your tickets with a week left.
The opening act was good, but I was in the mood to see OAR, so I wasn't really paying attention.
OAR was fucking amaaaaazing.
There were drunk college kids yelling everywhere, and everything was just so good.
We popped Shawn's concert cherry.
On the way home we thought we were going the way we came in but we got more lost than we were earlier in the night.
We didn't have a map, and had to keep stopping and asking every 2 seconds if we were going the right way.
Shawn passed the eff out all over me and I wanted to punch him...but I was nice.
Because he had to be up at 5 in the morning.
By the time we got to Portland, the car starts shaking violently and the check engine light keeps coming on, so we slow down.
And at 3:00 after we'd been going slow for like 5 minutes,
The 5-0 pull up behind us, and gave megan a warning for going 74 in a 65...gay.
That police man had nothing better to do than give us a warning for going 9 miles over the speed limit.
We got home at 5.
It took us 6 hours when it should have taken us 4.
"My name is Randall, I wrote you this song."
We went to Portland to eat Taco's and I wanted to talk to John Biswell.
He said that the tattoo I want would run me about $150 and that I could come in sometime next week.
I'm excited.
The ride down following this, consisted of getting lost for 2 hours, and laughing our asses off, and Shawn singing Whitney Houston at the top of his lungs, and seeing real nature.
We got there and bought sweet shirts, and found our seats which were surprisingly good.
I would have liked to have been on the florr, but that's what you get when you buy your tickets with a week left.
The opening act was good, but I was in the mood to see OAR, so I wasn't really paying attention.
OAR was fucking amaaaaazing.
There were drunk college kids yelling everywhere, and everything was just so good.
We popped Shawn's concert cherry.
On the way home we thought we were going the way we came in but we got more lost than we were earlier in the night.
We didn't have a map, and had to keep stopping and asking every 2 seconds if we were going the right way.
Shawn passed the eff out all over me and I wanted to punch him...but I was nice.
Because he had to be up at 5 in the morning.
By the time we got to Portland, the car starts shaking violently and the check engine light keeps coming on, so we slow down.
And at 3:00 after we'd been going slow for like 5 minutes,
The 5-0 pull up behind us, and gave megan a warning for going 74 in a 65...gay.
That police man had nothing better to do than give us a warning for going 9 miles over the speed limit.
We got home at 5.
It took us 6 hours when it should have taken us 4.
"My name is Randall, I wrote you this song."