thursday, 5/30/02
richmond title
so here I sit.

my fabul-ass has been impounded at slave pit, the headquarters of gwar; why the hell they cose RICHMOND, VA, is beyond me . . . i'm waiting for the boys to get saddled up so we can go slap our inflamed dicks on the locals. gwar takes messy BAR-HOPPIN' !

woo heedley doo ! !

we're regrouping, here at the pit, after viewing jason X at the local cinema. since i've been here, i've been swabbing my genitalia in liquid latex, snorting fiberglass shavings and shoving dirty clay-carving tools into my eye sockets while taking level 4 lambada lessons from various characters, here at the pit. i'm also helping matt make a website.

unfortunately, i don't have any fucking pictures, since my camera sucks donkey toes and so this is all i have to remember this experience by:
jason x ticket stub
west coast title
YES! i am back from my west coast tour. i drove from seattle, WA to big sur, CA and back with my crazy fucking mom, DYNIEMIGHT !


we christened this tour, the "suck my dick" tour. our mascot was this piece of driftwood i found on the oregon coast, which came in quite handy whilst wildly gesticulating at other motorists less skilled than us. there's a picture of it at the bottom of this page for your viewing pleasure.

so i'm going to try and recall the most memorable points for you in this rant, so pee off.

redding title
we ended up staying in a sleazy motel, the river inn, with a buncha' old crusty harley dudes with badass bitches, beards down to their chests, and flames on their bikes. this place had bugs, smelled of a 10-year-old bottle of pregnant-lady piss, and the AC blew out hot furnace air. my kinda' place. plus, EXTRA BONUS, it had broken liquor bottles in the stairwell, LOVELY murals on the walls, and fat, retarded children, aimlessly roaming the premises unescorted.

check it:
bolinas title
while we were headed down I-motherfucking-5, dyniemight, in her caffeine-induced, raging road-insanotronity, ran over a semi retread in her wrath, which severely fucked up our warrior-wagon. the gas line was punctured and partially dislodged fom the engine, so we were a ticking timebomb of death!


plus, it didn't help that i scored a huge rock and was smokin the fuck out of it, like christmas at the jacksons'.

we got to stinson beach, and realized what was going on, but the town had no gas station and no mechanic, so we hobbled to the small, hippie community of bolinas to get fixed up. i won't tell you how to get there cuz' they don't want you to know, so suck it. you'll find it on the map, but they've ripped down all the road signs, hee hee.

this place is one street long on the banks of a lagoon. burned-out hippies, crazy folks, farmer/fishermen, all throwaways who happened upon this place and couldn't leave. we ended up staying with a woman who heard of our mishap word-of-mouth. random folks kept coming up to us in the street, asking if our car was okay - it was like the twilight zone or some shit. our car got fixed in a few hours and he charged us twenty bucks for a replaced fuel line. he was a missing-toothed redneck hottie too. i'd do 'im.

so we chilled with the locals & spent our saturday night at their bar with a country band and an angered, midget door-woman with a fucked up accent, shootin' the shit with real fucking people. these places do exist. i thought is was all fake, that there was nothing like this, BUT THERE IS. mom and i got propositioned, it was AWESOME!

so we were invited to a beach bbq the next day, which we couldn't attend, sadly enough. janis-joplin/jimi-hendrix conspiracy theories, travelling hippie/punk kids, "diamonds-on-the-soles-of-his-shoes", the lady with sparkle-laden shit smeared on her face, the puppy, dawn - the town pimp, the spacey mechanic, the insanely angry cowgirl bar-brawler, it was all a million little experiences that i'll forget in about a year, but nonetheless, they rocked my anus CLEAR off.

we paid nothing to stay at this woman's up-and-coming bed and breakfast / dog spa, and got a complimentary bottle of local wine thrown in. hooray! all the hippie-house pics are of her place [ during renovations ].

so ANYWAY, the car was fine, but for the windshield-wiper incident [ you had to be there - BWAAA HAA HAA HAAAa ] and the broken light from the nice, cornfed lady i scared the hell out of when i rear-ended her ass. ho! best be watchin' out, bitches!
sanfran title
the drive through san fran was short & sweet. we ended up staying in monterey on one of the last nights of the tour.
monterey title
right on the ocean we had a fancy dinner a some place where they introduced me to the crab i was about to eat. the waiter got piss though, when i started jabbing the thing in the eyeball and it freaked out and started clawing at him. pansy

once at the hotel, my friend tod drove up from L.A. to hang with the stench. he gave me a texas flag, a shirt, with german hand-grenades on it, and a "pussy power" patch. i put them all on this pair of pants, yo, check it:
so we had a holiday-inn, no-pajamas, fashion, comic party while dyniemight sawed some maggot-infested logs in the same room.

basically, i busted my balls off on this rock 'n' roll road trip from the massive doseages of fun injected straight into my colon.

here are some more pictures:
the mascot
me & tod
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