We live vicariously through him.
I really don't know what the word for "one-third" is in the bi-tri-quad family of words, and I'm too lazy - and hung over - to even try to look it up. But in any case, last night was the celebration of the whatevernnial of jim_steele's life. He was 33 and a third of a century old.
Shotgunning a beer is classic party fare.
I'm fairly certain jim_steele stole this from a cripple.
And judging from his handiness with it, quite possibly crippled someone with it at some point in time.
Like a gang of out-of-work white supremacists, we descended on the mexican pinata.
I don't even know if there was candy in it, I was pretty drunk at this point.
The creepy black santa is watching me pee.
At one point, I mistook an upset neighbor for a party goer, and snapped several photos of her. I'm sure that didn't endear her to our party, but she seemed nice enough anyway, braving the bamboo jungle to tell us to keep it down.
It's not a classy party until people are in moustaches.
Brilliant.
It's Good Gatorade.
I feel pretty bad saying this, but this guy reminds me of the antagonist from Happy Gilmore. I think it's the hair and the ever-present jacket.
Everyone at the party looked very familiar. Also, blurry.
Eventually, the party wound down, and I decided to call it a night. Thank god for rear seats that fold down! Remember, kids, drink responsibly.
For breakfast, I had a quarter of one of those disgusting gas station sandwiches that I love so much. It was a little dry, but otherwise you couldn't tell that it had sat in my ar or a day. I suspect it would take several months before any sort of noticable change took place.
When I woke up, I found the most awesome thing ever right next to the car. I could have sworn it wasn't there when I parked.
Shotgunning a beer is classic party fare.
I'm fairly certain jim_steele stole this from a cripple.
And judging from his handiness with it, quite possibly crippled someone with it at some point in time.
Like a gang of out-of-work white supremacists, we descended on the mexican pinata.
I don't even know if there was candy in it, I was pretty drunk at this point.
The creepy black santa is watching me pee.
At one point, I mistook an upset neighbor for a party goer, and snapped several photos of her. I'm sure that didn't endear her to our party, but she seemed nice enough anyway, braving the bamboo jungle to tell us to keep it down.
It's not a classy party until people are in moustaches.
Brilliant.
It's Good Gatorade.
I feel pretty bad saying this, but this guy reminds me of the antagonist from Happy Gilmore. I think it's the hair and the ever-present jacket.
Everyone at the party looked very familiar. Also, blurry.
Eventually, the party wound down, and I decided to call it a night. Thank god for rear seats that fold down! Remember, kids, drink responsibly.
For breakfast, I had a quarter of one of those disgusting gas station sandwiches that I love so much. It was a little dry, but otherwise you couldn't tell that it had sat in my ar or a day. I suspect it would take several months before any sort of noticable change took place.
When I woke up, I found the most awesome thing ever right next to the car. I could have sworn it wasn't there when I parked.