Boom, boom, shake the mofoin' room. I's 'ere wif my maiin man of medicine. His name be C. Everett Koop. What up gangsters. How have you been doing? Nothing has been going on lately, hence no update to The House. But after a couple months, here's what I came up with. Da Ali G Show is on the Home Box Office Channel, that's HBO, and it's funny as fuck. You all know I never, ever endorse products, but I have to endorse this. And I'll ask you a question. I thought of this while watching that movie A Beautiful Mind about the John Nash Jr. Would you rather be bored all the time, or a schizophrenic who's always paranoid?
I don't know why I took this, but it's a foreshadow to what will happen later in time.
It's my main man, Mr. Thomas Huens. Drinking the ghetto, ghetto Mickey's 40 oh zee's. Is it just me, or do 40s taste better while posting with your homies on the curb?
For as long as I've known Cohen, he's been a vegetarian. And he's eating Cluck U! However it wasn't up to his high standards and he failed to finish the fine, fine food.
We were trying to break something, and Jake punched something too hard and was in pain.
Here's my Lizzie Mug poster that Laura gave me for Christmas. Thank you Laura!
Stricker was being a jackass so we started to wrestle and his stupid ass threw me into a wall, creating a hole.
We didn't want Conor to get angry so Jake decided to make some fine modern art.
Cohen offered to help with his creativity.
Mark 2, the finished product. Conor eventually found out and was quite furious I hear. And then Cohen fucked around with me saying that Conor was going to punch a hole in my wall. Whatever... that's gonna cost more than this one...
We went shooting, and STRICKER IS A BITCH! He didn't hit one bird. Not one. And we were giving him extra shells and clays. So we had to call him Nancy for the rest of the day.
You can't really see this since Caputo took such a shitty picture, but some monkey ran into a sign on a highway on ramp.
Ladies, let me tell you something. Aaron Stricker is about the laziest person, EVER. He usually goes to sleep about 3am. Right here it is 5pm. This is not an unusual occurrence. And we wanted to go to San Francisco and he wasn't even up, so we decided to pick his lock.
Haha isn't that funny?
Stricker and I were giving Cohen shit about something (shhh, I can't tell you) and Stricker took his shoes, "punking" him.
But then Stricker's retarded and broke his cinderblock table.
Cohen has spilled some of nature's nectar like most of us have done. But you can't help but calling the spiller a little bitch. Speaking of nature's nectar, have you seen the new uniforms for Bud Light? Holy shit, Bud Light is now like a high class drink, like Salon champagne.
After going to The Row on a weekend at 4pm, this is traffic on 880S. What the fuck. It's like LA. The only good boutique for guys I think at The Row is the Gucci one. Do you agree?
Another spilling accident. Cohen spilled Tapatio sauce. Tapatio is Stricker's main sauce, he puts it on fucking everything. So why is Stricker cleaning Cohen's mess? I think he likes him. Like, (likes) him. Hmmm...
This is some weird temple about 25 miles north of San Francisco. I've flown over it before, but it's still amazing. Do you know what it is? Perhaps I'll take a helicopter one day and land there to check it out.
Burkholder and I were bored one night and decided to do the Tour De Bar. It's like the Tour De Bay, but with bars. We were walking, don't worry. First up- Oasis. Pitcher of Budweiser was like $7. Expensive. And we finished up the night here as well on the way back.
Ah the Crown, the haven. The only bar I know that serves John Courage Amber. Ever have it? Come here on Monday nights at 9pm, and there's a comedy club. Funny ass shit.
Blue Chalk. However they had no beers on tap (what the fuck?) so we cut out.
First time here at Nola's. Not as cool as I thought. Some guy wearing a helmet came in and started telling me about his Porsche Turbos. I told him I wasn't impressed at all. Then he started telling me he was a famous dude. Jeffery Lee. Do you know him? I think he wanted to have sex with me. Oh yeah, he asked me to buy him a beer since his bag got stolen with his money and satellite phone. Yeah right.
Can't finish the night without taking a random picture with someone off street.
Now it's time to be a hater. Kinda like the time when an associate I know called the cops on a drug dealer living next to him not because it was the right thing to do but because he was jealous of all the money he was making. So this car is not a Saleen, obviously.
Look at those rims.
An associate of mine put a note on his windshield informing him that he didn't drive a Saleen, and the next day, he put a cover on his car. Just because you have a cover on your car doesn't mean it's a Saleen.
Now for some funny license plate holders. "I'm not spoiled, you're just jealous." Yeah, maybe if this was a Bentley on 22" spinners. Remember when Darren Bear had this plate holder?
"If you can catch me, I'll pay the ticket." A poseur on the grandeur level. Unless this cat is outrunning police and getting into high speed chases, that is. And if he is, then he is my hero and that plate holder is ridiculously sick.
"If you can read this, I'm still in second gear." No doubt, Camaro's are fast, but there are many faster cars out there.
Colleen wanted to be on the page, so she sent me a retarded looking picture of herself.
This is Mista Ted rocking the free Red Lobster necklace. How good is Red Lobster? By good, I mean horribly, horribly bad. But eating 45 shrimp (scampi and lemon fried), salad and fries for $12.99 and getting unbelievable stomach aches is sometimes fun.
Goddamn Doug Kopf. Apparently he got too lazy to walk to class a la Ange (have you seen her zipping to class and Benson on her 20 MPH scooter? Oh my!) and made himself an electric-powered scooter. Why do the Kopfs have to be so damn handsome and able to do anything?
| Home | Contact |