MXI.
As I took a moment to go to the bathroom to wipe my ass, even though I didn’t have to take a shit and had a chance to reflect on number 11. It is remarkable to me that each and every time I think the weekend couldn’t be better – it rises to the occasion. I thought we peaked on Thursday night before Kurt got there. And despite all that Kurt did, he still couldn’t ruin MWXI.
Below are a series of thoughts brought by the weekend. I apologize beforehand for the lack of continuity.
I’d be remiss to not to start talking about the weekend without talking about me. Boo-ya! Yes, thank you very much, I felt great. Breathing is fucking amazing when you sleep. I love oxygen. I love REM. I love having energy. I love that CPAP inspires amazing things like throwing golf balls at each other balls for fun. How is that for medical advancement?
I think the MVP this year has to be the weather. I have never seen so many cloudless days up there, particularly at this time of year. Holy cow it was beautiful. Perhaps it was a gift from Brian. I like to think so.
That is why I like to thank Steve for the first tasteful MW shirt ever – Meat gone to heaven. Kudos sir. The brownies were another masterpiece - or so I witnessed.
There has never been a richer or more delicious assortment of meat. Consequently, the plunger has never been used more.
Paul becomes unstoppable on the guitar as bass. Hot hole meat was fucking gourmet. Fuck you Bobby Flay, you can’t make meat from a hole better. Oh, double fuck you to Bobby Flay because he can't make breakfast over a fire like Joe E. Pant.
I love the dogs. Zeh is a maniac. Charlie is a wackadoodle poodle. They are awesome.
Pete's shirt was the envy of everyone. Sadly, no one could wear it like you. But a tip for next year if I may, just eat two brownies.
I’ll never get over seeing Saturn through the giant telescope. That is a motherfucking miracle. Then again, that’s what MW is as well.
Old man Jeff. Once again puts us to shame by driving 8 hours to deliver Old Man Scottish Ale, share his Elmer Fudd double barrel shotgun and eat brownies.
Shooting Kurt in the balls with the airsoft gun made my weekend. I am still laughing about it.
Damian and Scott are our weapons masters. My arm is purple in their glory. I was talking to Damian about shooting in that upper meadow. I consider shooting elsewhere, but it’s the whole experience that simply can’t be replicated. The sound of gunfire, mixed with cigar smoke and later afternoon sun, all topped off with a tasty microbrew. It is true, it really doesn’t get better.
I’m just glad Chris Carson got the date right.
David brought Eric. Yup. Again.
Finally, I’ll leave you with this deep thought: don’t let life run from bears being chased by wild boars who are pursued by a negro in the White House.
Peace out bitches.
Below are a series of thoughts brought by the weekend. I apologize beforehand for the lack of continuity.
I’d be remiss to not to start talking about the weekend without talking about me. Boo-ya! Yes, thank you very much, I felt great. Breathing is fucking amazing when you sleep. I love oxygen. I love REM. I love having energy. I love that CPAP inspires amazing things like throwing golf balls at each other balls for fun. How is that for medical advancement?
I think the MVP this year has to be the weather. I have never seen so many cloudless days up there, particularly at this time of year. Holy cow it was beautiful. Perhaps it was a gift from Brian. I like to think so.
That is why I like to thank Steve for the first tasteful MW shirt ever – Meat gone to heaven. Kudos sir. The brownies were another masterpiece - or so I witnessed.
There has never been a richer or more delicious assortment of meat. Consequently, the plunger has never been used more.
Paul becomes unstoppable on the guitar as bass. Hot hole meat was fucking gourmet. Fuck you Bobby Flay, you can’t make meat from a hole better. Oh, double fuck you to Bobby Flay because he can't make breakfast over a fire like Joe E. Pant.
I love the dogs. Zeh is a maniac. Charlie is a wackadoodle poodle. They are awesome.
Pete's shirt was the envy of everyone. Sadly, no one could wear it like you. But a tip for next year if I may, just eat two brownies.
I’ll never get over seeing Saturn through the giant telescope. That is a motherfucking miracle. Then again, that’s what MW is as well.
Old man Jeff. Once again puts us to shame by driving 8 hours to deliver Old Man Scottish Ale, share his Elmer Fudd double barrel shotgun and eat brownies.
Shooting Kurt in the balls with the airsoft gun made my weekend. I am still laughing about it.
Damian and Scott are our weapons masters. My arm is purple in their glory. I was talking to Damian about shooting in that upper meadow. I consider shooting elsewhere, but it’s the whole experience that simply can’t be replicated. The sound of gunfire, mixed with cigar smoke and later afternoon sun, all topped off with a tasty microbrew. It is true, it really doesn’t get better.
I’m just glad Chris Carson got the date right.
David brought Eric. Yup. Again.
Finally, I’ll leave you with this deep thought: don’t let life run from bears being chased by wild boars who are pursued by a negro in the White House.
Peace out bitches.
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