Saturday, July 11, 2009


I just got this Email from Chris Marshall. Him and the dudes are out in conneticut getting clips and chillen. No pics yet guys, only words.

bad news. cant find a cable for upload. i didnt bring my comp anyways.

Day 1?

I wake up, and its ten in the morning. fuck. Its ten in the morning and none of these scumbags wake up earlier than one thirty. So i pack my shit and fuck off for a few hours. A few go by and i still don't know how anyone is getting up to CT. I finally get on the phone with everyone later in the afternoon, nobody knows what the deal is. I get a call from Garrett, he tells me they're gunna get to my house at nine. The motherfuckers don't show up until two in the morning. We pack the bikes and leave to see Fakie Master in New Britain. To make the ride even better, an unnamed individual decided to dose himself with an unnamed fungus for the car ride. We get to fakies house and he ended up not answering his phone. We ended up at the front desk of this sketchy hotel, just the way we like it. We're tired as fuck, the guy at the front desk tells us, "Sorry fellers, but we're done for the night." What the fuck does that even mean? We get slick with the guy and slip into a room. It was filthy within minutes. We burn one down and call it a night. zooted.