Memorial Day

In case anyone was wondering what me and the crew were doing for Memorial Day weekend, I will update you. No one broke any bones, there were no Bounce Houses, no claustrophobia...but there was a little thing we here in space like to call, "shot guns"...

Here is a tasty little nugget from the Memorial Day Weekend Hall of Shame. As you can see, we are all standing in my bathtub. We figured that, since the landlord lives next door and shot gunning beers in the front yard at two in the afternoon tends to look a little, you know, white trash, we would all stand in the bathtub and take photos.

From the left we have Mr. Jack Johnson. He is not really Jack Johnson, he just happens to look exactly like him when he is wearing sunglasses. It wouldn't hurt if he had a guitar, but whatever. Then there is me. I look like a crazy person. In my defense though, my beer was the first one opened and had been exploding on me for twenty minutes while Mr. Johnson tried to figure out how to work the timer on my camera. So, I had a beer shower and I couldn't stop laughing. Sue me. Next is Andrew. He is on shirt number 2. He had already spilled red wine on his own shirt and is currently sporting the one that I got for free on St. Patty's day for doing a shot of whiskey. Which again, was not a good idea. But Andrew has a new shirt. Then there is my rock star roommate and best friend, Spliff. Doesn't she look like she could be walking the red carpet with, like Brad Pitt or something? Okay, no? Maybe Lil' Jon? Whatever. She should be on some sort of carpet. Somewhere. Maybe not red. But...she is such a rock star.

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