Jerking off

This enormous piece of beef jerky has graced the walls of The Cave since its original inhabitants first arrived. Carson Lee has recently parted ways with his beloved home and eccentric yet sexy roommates. No one dared break open the package and take a bite out of the giant piece of meat, until a couple weeks ago while Carson was packing up some of his belongings.



Soon after gnawing on the two year old slab of dehydrated steak Carson embarked on his own personal couch tour. He has been crashing on people's floors all over the greater San Jose area, so keep your doors unlocked because the homeless Viper needs a place to rest his lovely little head.

Going that Extra Mile

Documenting the events on a particular day is strange because it forces the documenter to view the day through a filter of hindsight even though the events have yet to occur. Don't fret over wether or not any of this makes a lick of sense, because chances are nothing that happened on this particular day made a lick of sense either.

After an arduous day of skating svp 2 Jesse and I embarked on a quest for refreshment. We desperately craved adult sodas but the only form of currency we had came in the form of Jesse's Chevron card. Hindsight could never have prepared me for the day that lay ahead of me.


Jesse Powered up for the adventure with some pineapple soda. Only Chevrons with an Extra Mile market attached to them sell booze, so that is where we were headed.


Unfortunately neither one of us knew where an Extra Mile was located. After a few miles on 101 South the farm houses began multiplying...


...as did the fruit stands.


Well, looks like we're headed for Gilroy.


The temperature increaseed and Jesse and I began to regret the journey we had embarked on.


The next thing Jesse and I knew we were passing through Watsonville and on our way to Santa Cruz. It was at this time the weather some how turned a complete 180.


Jesse then remembered where an Extra Mile was in Santa Cruz.


You took the words right our of my mouth.


Corn dog high fives.


The fruits of our labor.

Off the Wagon

Those who have seen The Never Ending Story know all too well the gleeful smiling face of Falcor. This mythical flying puppy's face is a symbol of hope and innocence. It is shining beacon of hope in a world of darkness and despair.



Actually, taking into account recent events, perhaps I should rephrase my last statement. Falcore "was" a symbol of innocence...



...that was until he began hitting the sauce. At first it was just a couple beers during BBQs and social functions.



It was not long however, before everyone's beloved canine was downing malt liquor on the streets of San Jose. Let us hope this is just a passing phase for Falcor and that AA meetings will not be required.

Just kidding,




Let us all follow the lead of Falcor. Summer is upon us, time to party!

Troubled Times

When the going gets tough, the tough say "fuck it." Tuck your worries away for the summer my friends! Time to shred and have fun.


A good old fashion stump sighting can brighten the darkest of days.


Finding fun in the midst of anguish.

All in the Family

Over the past weeks there have been parties aplenty and good times left and right. Avril Calderwood constructed a dessert of madeleines, an assortment of fresh berries, and combination of custard and raspberry sauces.

A welcome change from the typical pie.

The Three B's

Sometimes all the puzzle pieces of life tumble gracefully into place. Sometimes all of the stress and turmoil that comes with daily life vanishes into an abyss of Beers, BBQ and Backside Noseblunts. Sometimes the three B's are all a man needs to be happy.


Peter prepares the condiments.


Young Benjamin loves to renegade his beer then pawn them off to others. In this picture his gingerly sips America's finest brew.


The Weed King cometh.


Chase "might be drunk."


The years of working at Happy Hound really have paid off.


Solid meat.


Mustard is the king of condiments.


Bongathon enjoys his meal amongst a patch of lovely bright flowers.


Beer and BBQ...


...and Backside Noseblunts.

Those who were unable to land 360 flips on the cruiser board had to shotgun a beer.

Weed King reigns supreme.

Sorry

Despite what the aforementioned post suggests, there will be a slight wait on the Peter Raffin Clog. Instead I will dedicate this entry to Matt Hicks, a young man whose status in the greater Campbell region of Silicon Valley is nothing short of legendary. Who else can firecracker three blocks by day and kill bottles of rum by night?