Eat Me

Because VPs never do any work themselves, Ty has asked me to post the following photo. To quote the veep:

"I would like to submit the attached picture to the "why do foreigners eat gross things" string, but I can't do it at work. This delicacy is called Durian. "Smells like hell; tastes like heaven." is the official marketing line. It sets off bomb detectors in airplanes and is banned from all public transportation."

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Durian:

Uhhh....what?

I just received two spam e-mails with the following subject headings:

Gorrgeouus miIf wooman beatings passageway

Dear customer. Updates newsletter. reappear akimbo


Somebody is drinking on the job down at the translator factory.

Here's one from high school.

Just a quick one, and remarkably foggy even for my addled brain:

Some unknown group of us were going out to dinner with some women-folk, and somehow we ended up at the Pizza Hut over in Nora. How did this happen? What the hell were we doing over there? We sent Ty in to see if there is a wait. He was in there for way too long, so I honked, partly to tell him to get his ass out here because if it takes that long to find out if there's a wait then that's definitely too long, but mostly because I wanted to embarrass him. We were driving in my mom's Buick station wagon (the world's fastest station wagon, as you might recall, no kidding, that thing left many a shocked CRX in its wake), which had a faulty horn. Its fault was that if you honked it, it did not stop honking for several weeks unless you found the super secret 1/2 inch square area on the steering wheel and pressed there as hard as you could. Unfortunately, the super secret area moved around, and I could not locate it. Ty, realizing our predicament, did the only rational thing: He walked out the front door of Pizza Hut and jumped on the station wagon's hood. I immediately pulled away, horn wailing, Ty rolling around on the hood. This is all I remember for sure.

It is very possible that this was a triple date: Tyler and Autumn (God. Dammit.), Ben Smith and Pederson (sucking face in the way-back of the station wagon all night), and Ty and Stephanie Bates ("Hey, Ty, we need a date for Bates, and although you don't like her at all and she likes you in an uncomfortable way, we'd still really like you to come along."). I am pretty sure that we ended up going to Burger King. No shit. Chicks dig Whoppers. I have no recollection as to what we did after dinner, but I can guarantee that it did not involve me getting any. Or even a little bit of any.

If I'm right about the attendees, it means that this story will never get clarified, because Ben Smith lives in a fishing cabin in Montana and probably doesn't know what the internet is (not necessarily a bad thing), and Ty will never ever post anything on here, ever (goad, goad). Apparently Blogger is non-Blackberry compatable. - Tyler

"These aren't talls"

Just wanted to share a sweet site I ran across for the best movie ever.

The Stoned Age

If you are not familiar with this fine film, then you are not yet a true member of the 3210-K

You put your weed in it.

Yeah yeah, I know the images mess up the site layout. If anyone wants to fix it, please go ahead. For right now, just bear with me.

Here's the (unconfirmed) story:

"This is how they grow it in Tennessee . This grow was underneath a house in a cave. The entrance was through a secret hydraulic door in the garage that led to a concrete ramp that went about 50 yards into the ground. Inside the cave was living quarters and a secret escape hatch that led you through a tunnel that exited via another hydraulic door that opened up a rock on the outside. It was very elaborate. The set up allowed them to harvest every 60 days which resulted in multi-million dollar sales. One of the guys busted was living in a house on the water in FL and had a nice yacht. One of the agents here in Nashville worked on this for 5 years before the warrant was finally served in December."















We are so doing this between SRL and Ty's basements.