We do things RIGHT
Friday was a decent night on the beach that included a visit from Old School and Westside, a drunk woman who wouldn't stop hugging me, a visit from Rachel and Reni, a flat tire, and an attempted striptease from a drunken mexican whose girlfriend kept coming over and talking to us. Oh yeah, and apparently I have a nice butt.
Saturday found a "No Prostitutes" sign with Mr. School and Mr. Side. Mr. School was gonna get a picture with it, but seriously thought that the sketchy guy in the yard might shoot us. Then, after a quick stop at the gun store where Travis' dad hangs, we met up with Travis and Ryan and headed out to Cecil B. to squeeze off a few hundred rounds in to our ink and paper adversaries. With our 2-dimensional foes vanquished, we decided to celebrate with a trip to the Yucapan. I never thought a washing machine could move like that. Soon others joined in the fun and there were 11 people in, on, and or hanging from the Tahoe. At least four people got thrown off, some of them multiple times, but we never left a man (or woman) behind. At one point the back of the luggage rack broke, and I almost fell of the back corner, but managed to grab on to the side rack, climb around to the front. I hopped in double shotgun with Mike before Travis even knew the rack was broken. Ridin' the beast throught the jungle builds up a powerful appetite, and with a little help from a good ole' boy, we found our way back out and got ourselves a whole mess of hooters wings (1 Mess = 150 wings). Mess Cleaned, we headed back to FM, where I met up with Bryyyan, Baby Cakes, Matty J, and the Tweedster for a game of "convince the drunk guy to hit cars with a basketball" followed by a game of "try to kill Longhair with bricks and other dangerous objects from six stories above". Oh yeah, and Dennis Fink still thinks everything is "right down the road" and apparently I have a nice butt.
Sunday included bootin', and family time, and a visit to Rachel before she returns to PA. Oh yeah, my Grandpa is now 74 and apparently I have a nice butt.
It's not destruction, it's creative reconstruction, The highest form of art.
Saturday found a "No Prostitutes" sign with Mr. School and Mr. Side. Mr. School was gonna get a picture with it, but seriously thought that the sketchy guy in the yard might shoot us. Then, after a quick stop at the gun store where Travis' dad hangs, we met up with Travis and Ryan and headed out to Cecil B. to squeeze off a few hundred rounds in to our ink and paper adversaries. With our 2-dimensional foes vanquished, we decided to celebrate with a trip to the Yucapan. I never thought a washing machine could move like that. Soon others joined in the fun and there were 11 people in, on, and or hanging from the Tahoe. At least four people got thrown off, some of them multiple times, but we never left a man (or woman) behind. At one point the back of the luggage rack broke, and I almost fell of the back corner, but managed to grab on to the side rack, climb around to the front. I hopped in double shotgun with Mike before Travis even knew the rack was broken. Ridin' the beast throught the jungle builds up a powerful appetite, and with a little help from a good ole' boy, we found our way back out and got ourselves a whole mess of hooters wings (1 Mess = 150 wings). Mess Cleaned, we headed back to FM, where I met up with Bryyyan, Baby Cakes, Matty J, and the Tweedster for a game of "convince the drunk guy to hit cars with a basketball" followed by a game of "try to kill Longhair with bricks and other dangerous objects from six stories above". Oh yeah, and Dennis Fink still thinks everything is "right down the road" and apparently I have a nice butt.
Sunday included bootin', and family time, and a visit to Rachel before she returns to PA. Oh yeah, my Grandpa is now 74 and apparently I have a nice butt.
It's not destruction, it's creative reconstruction, The highest form of art.