Game Six

Post smogcheck celebratory ceramic day of the dead skulls filled with tequila are normal right?



Chase had been waiting for this day since he was born. Before we even turned on the tv The Rangers scored a run, which meant a shot for Newt Dawg.



Shot number two came faster than you can say "faggot fuck," which at some point became Chase's go to phrase.




Chase using his yell at the screen coaching technique to get "his boys" fired up. It's a miracle Josh's tv and dvd player survived the ordeal.



Much to Chase's delight, and his liver's displeasure, Texas seemed to be on quite the hitting streak. Shot number three may have come a little early.



As the sun gently tiptoed away Chase had a smoke on the balcony. This may have been the last time our young friend looked sane during the night.



Because right afterward it was back to taking shots.



A full hand worth of tequila shots.



I may in fact get the picture framed and mounted over my fireplace.



Chase enlisted the help of other people's fingers to help him count shots.



Things started looking pretty bleak for the Cardinals.



The wellbeing of Chase didn't seem to promising either.



But what is this? A miracle home run.



Pure Anguish.



Into the mouth of madness.



Ah but wait, shot number nine and a smiling Chase means that things began to turn around for the Rangers. And yes, I must have missed a few pictures of shot tequila drinking along the way.



However, a focused phone is never a good sign. Or is it a great sign?



Either way, there is always next year.

Ps. Chase I have a your favorite sweatshirt.

Guilty Fall Pleasures Vol. 1

Nothing quite reminds me of fall like ingesting a steaming cup full of artificially pumpkin flavored coffee sludge.




The Pumpkin Spice Latte from 7-11 is anything but a latte, but it's curiously addicting and brings me back to my coffee drinking roots. A time when the last thing I wanted to taste in my coffee was, well, coffee.



The Pumpkin Spice Latte also tastes especially good out of a 99 cent 12 oz Domo coffee cup. This deal however, was only available for a limited time a couple years back, and I feel as though me and my buddy Justin Albert were the only ones who took advantage of this.

Hell on the Horizon

Not quite my pretties, but we are getting close. Listen to the wind and sharpen your razor mittens.

Objects of October

Could it be, the almighty "Root?"



Unless you eat a shit ton of candy corn pumpkins the season is not yet complete.



Deck the halls with hell and folly!



This man should have graced the blogger account of the Clog ages ago. Behold artgrove69.



Friends.



Enemies.



Best friends!

"It's an Evil Fucking Room"

How did John Cusack make the transition from wimpy roles in films like High Fidelity, to becoming the new reigning king of psychological horror? Ah, the wonders never cease.



If Samuel L. Jackson warns you not to stay somewhere, well then dear God, you had better take his advice. The fact that John Cusack looks Sammy J. right in the eyes and tells him, "I'm taking the room," speaks volumes about how much of a straight up G he really is. 1408 was greeted with very little love upon it's release, but don't be fooled, this psychological brain rape of a film boasts some serious solo acting, awesome lighting, and genuinely suspense filled moments.

"Hotel's are a naturally creepy place, How many people slept in that bed?"



It has been white some time since I last viewed this masterpiece of horror cinema, but I know for a fact that it is worth staring glassy eyed into into your television screen for. And now that I think about it, both of these films take place in a hotel/motel (what the hell is the difference???). Is Cusack really the king of horror, or simply the master of hotel thriller? You be the judge.

When Life Gives you Gourds

As I slip deeper and deeper into the Fall season these little buggers seem to start pooping up in my front yard and kitchen. Lord knows where they come from or how they arrive in my home.



All I know is that when a pumpkin crosses my path, I cut it down the center, scoop out its flesh, slice it into tiny segments, skin it, submerge it in boiling water until its nicely tender, and then well... eventually create a delicious soup. Let the gourd times roll!

1

Number 1 needs no pictures,
and most certainly no reason.
But it moves with much swiftness,
and the change of the season.

The Clog's 201 post has little to offer, except promises of far more entertaining Clog posts in the comng fall. This is the first and it sucks. What fallows shall be better. For now, listen to the rain, once again.

The 200th Clog Post Mega Post Photo Blowout Extravaganza Post

Closing in on your 200th blog post is sort of like living with your parents well into your 20's; You come to the realization that you've been doing that shit far to long, but chances are you won't stop. Thank you to those who follow the Clog (Ben Fowler) and those of you who support me in life (my box). Cheers to 200 posts of pointless excrement, and many more to follow.



Whenever I am blessed with two days off from work in a row I usually feel compelled to take some sort of miniature vacation. The destination usually is well suited for skating and friends are sure to populate said region, except this time. Which is precisely why I brought Jesse along with me on a whirlwind journey to a number of undetermined locations along California's Northern coastline.



There is no better time to head out onto the dark lonely road.



Why travel to Willits California? Sometimes logic doesn't play an integral role in the decisions we make.



We met a local, who had to call the police, and ask them to unlock the gate to this skatepark, which turned out to have an amazing flow and some incredibly dreamy hubba ledges.



People sure do like to smoke themselves some drugs up in this neck of the woods, so its only natural for them to have tie dye clothing shops.



Sometimes you must ingest strange substances to help you hang tough.



As we neared Fort Bragg the weather went from ball blisteringly hot to ass chillingly cold. There was some fog and a bridge too.



Jesse and I set up camp in what appeared to be someones backyard.



The moisture level reached epic proportions



The baseball bbq was taken on its maiden voyage. Jesse insisted we cook beans, and then proceeded to pollute the inside of our tent with gases from the inside of his bowels.



There are fews things quite as comforting as a plate full of succulent wieners.



Screw dogs, fire is man's true best friend.



We could not have foreseen Fort Bragg having a skatepark... a really fun skatepark.



This little seaside town is also home to North Coast Brewing. We came, we saw, we sampled.



It was a relatively casual brewery. No paper bags.



The road home involved massive redwoods and Tunes provided by BobFM.



Beauty



and splendor. But not Splenda, that shit is wack.




If you find an empty bottle of wine in the woods and take a picture of it will it make this caption any less terrible.



Wine country children.



Done son.