Doesn't look like Lake Afton to us.
Well, well, well. It seems the boys are back from Hawaii. Although the stories have yet to filted into the BDSlog, a few pictures are starting to appear. This one? That circle is highlighting our little group of party pilgrims with a beach on Kauai almost exclusively to themselves. We don't know how the hell the photo was taken, either. Early indications report a good time was, of course, had by all. But if wouldn't have been a vacation without a little drama. No, one of the boys didn't wear a cursed tiki necklace and disappear on a big wave, but apparently the scary music that played in the background while Greg Brady vanished oh so many years ago could be heard once again last week on the beach.
Someone lost a little portion of his finger. We're just hoping it eventually grows back like a starfish.
As for the rest of the trip, we're not quite sure what went down last week in Paradise. We've heard bits and pieces (in the case of Brian, more pieces than bits), but we haven't received concrete information. To date, here's what we know about the week:
Mattnum P.I.
Matt agreed to work as a private eye and put his life on the line trying to bust a purse-snatching ring that didn't think twice of ruining vacations for thousands of state-side tourists. In the process he gets to kick some ass without the threat of arrest. Good thing he can drive a stick, but we're more amazed he grew a moustache in a week.
Brian arrives with 9. Leaves with 8.
Even we don't quite understand this one. Brian, already suffering separation anxiety from a portion of one finger after finding himself on the losing end of an argument with a circular saw, somehow lost a portion of a second finger to a, did we hear this right?, "empty beer can filled with ocean water". No, we don't need to know. It's probably better that we don't.
Chris and the black man.
Some dream of fame. Some dream of fortune. Our man Chris? His dream was to fly around the Island with a black man. These candid photos show that dreams do come true even for old Kansas boys. We also heard Chris and his pilot TC helped Mattnum solve several crimes during the week.
We'll keep you updated on last week's BDS invasion of paradise if/when more stories walk through the bar.
Someone lost a little portion of his finger. We're just hoping it eventually grows back like a starfish.
As for the rest of the trip, we're not quite sure what went down last week in Paradise. We've heard bits and pieces (in the case of Brian, more pieces than bits), but we haven't received concrete information. To date, here's what we know about the week:
Mattnum P.I.
Matt agreed to work as a private eye and put his life on the line trying to bust a purse-snatching ring that didn't think twice of ruining vacations for thousands of state-side tourists. In the process he gets to kick some ass without the threat of arrest. Good thing he can drive a stick, but we're more amazed he grew a moustache in a week.
Brian arrives with 9. Leaves with 8.
Even we don't quite understand this one. Brian, already suffering separation anxiety from a portion of one finger after finding himself on the losing end of an argument with a circular saw, somehow lost a portion of a second finger to a, did we hear this right?, "empty beer can filled with ocean water". No, we don't need to know. It's probably better that we don't.
Chris and the black man.
Some dream of fame. Some dream of fortune. Our man Chris? His dream was to fly around the Island with a black man. These candid photos show that dreams do come true even for old Kansas boys. We also heard Chris and his pilot TC helped Mattnum solve several crimes during the week.
We'll keep you updated on last week's BDS invasion of paradise if/when more stories walk through the bar.
2 Comments:
Ahh, Hawaii. Best sex of my life...
Best tan too.
Yeah, that collective imagination runs wild around here, especially when you're posting comments at 4:08AM! What the hell? Dude, either fix the clock on your computer or give some serious consideration to taking 2 shots of Jack per minute arond midnight until you drift off into sleepy paradise. You aren't on fire-watch anymore, marine, so hit the rack at a normal hour. That way you won't fear sunlight as much.
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