I spent the greater (perhaps the greatest) part of July and August in windy Wellington, New Zealand  shacking up with my squeeze (she’s 6 feet tall).  Now it’s becoming more and more a rarity for me to venture out of my hometown much less my state, much much less my country.  Needless to say I was somewhat unprepared for the 15+- hour lapse of time spent on 3 different planes each way with 3 different shitty chicken or fish dishes and 3 different shitty catalogs of shitty movies.  Shit.

I suppose the payoff was well worth it.  

So anyway, I write this for the curious worldly types who wish to get a gander at that which is New Zealand and learn of its Kiwi culture.  

1. There are a fuck-ton of sheep.  I haven’t spent much time around these creatures, aside from the domesticated types.  These lil flufflers tend to be rather annoyingly evasive.

2. Playgrounds are fucking monumental in New Zealand.  Get a fucking gander at this slide!  

3. They have weird/awesome cars.  Like Supras, like RX-7’s and oh so many skylines…..  Seemed to me like every other car rocks a fat ass intercooler and vroom pshs after 

4. Kiwi’s like to drink / hit the piss.  

5. Behold the renowned “Kiwi Big Breakfast“ - tried it twice, safe to say I’m definitely not yet down with the Kiwi interpretation of the breakfast sausage but I suppose I’m not as big a sausage connaisseur as some other people i know…

6. Birds kick it indoors.

7. Kiwi birds, the feathered, flightless symbol of New Zealand lays the largest eggs comparable to their body size.  Once juiced and strained the resulting product is quite bitter yet deliciously refreshing.

8. Blessed with the power of retard strength, even the sturdiest of Wellington’s embankments were no match for my American ass. 

9. Order an ice coffee - receive this : what I perceive to be a mocha with 2 scoops vanilla ice cream plopped in.  Fantastic.  

10. Minus 5 Ice Bar - I’m into 2 drink minimums and spending 25 minutes in a -27 degree room comprised of nothing but teh ice.  Ice formed from nothing but the natural artesian springs of New Zealand herself.  Slap it on your checkout list.

11. What does not belong?

Greetings and salutations to you all, I apologize I’ve gone through quite spell of blogger’s block partly because I didn’t have the time and partly because if someone were to ask me what I did last weekend my reply would probably be a dull and blank one. No longer is this the case. And so it begins:

A few weeks ago, back when I had a girlfriend and 2 jobs to occupy my time, basically slaving away at the daily grind for dollars that made little sense. My chance for escape came when my dear pal Ian hatched a plan for us to go stay visit Ash’ms, Christa Ryder and the new love of my life / Ashley’s boyfriend Daren Smilie. Needless to say the very prospect of these tentative arrangements solidifying into weekend plans was enough to send me into a heightened state of arousal. Ian and I hit the road at damn the ungodly hour of 5:30 A.M. embarking on what would turn into an 8 hour ass-falling-asleep-fest complete with sing along emo music audible throughout the rear speakers only, cause most the time if I have to listen to that shit at all thats how I like it, faint and kinda shaky. So prior to the trip people advised me to be wary of the smog polluted skies of LA and not to get arrested in Mexico, heres a pic of the gorgeous Los Angeles sky you can almost make out a plane in the background or maybe its just fecal matter I don’t know.

Maybe three or four hours into the epic journey I managed to catch some winks while sitting fully erect with my fuckin arm at a 45 degree angle and evidently Ian thought this was some majorly entertaining shit. The unpleasant aftermath of my sunbaked napping was a gnarly ass half farmer tan on my right arm that without the administering of the soothing aloe via Christa could have fucked up my days. I’d say the highlight of our excursion was the night spent in Tijuana where Mr. Cuervo and I made friends and he introduced me to his rowdy cousin the “Adios Motherfucker”, truly a lovely family all in all.

The next memorable excursion for yours truly was my time spent over at the lovely University of San Francisco with lovely ladies ingesting lovely liquids and peeing them out in womens bathrooms. Ally, better known as A-face round them parts, showed me a time and a half. Showed me my first club experience (north of the border) where my faith in the Hyphy movement was restored. True it wasn’t anywhere near Tijuana’s Gropefest ‘07, and true I didn’t take any pics when inside but take my word for it when I say the force of friction felt was enough to grind down my jeans to the threads. Beleee dattt.

In local news Hoesafe, Barry, and girl Joe all went the to beach a bunch of days ago. I met a 185 lb dog with a raging erection for

me. I was buried in sand. Life was made better when I saw my dear buddy Malchow at la casa de Gannon, played some beer

checkers and was shown the way of the shotgun, Ian and the dog ran a train on Umpy, and then we all ate tacos. Good night.

It’s been way too long since I’ve felt hot sand under my feet, it’s been way too long since I’ve eaten a big schweaty wiener prepared by Malchow. I cut school that day so I could go to work early, get my hours in, fatten up my favorite leather wallet, and get off at noon so I could get to the beach boy-eeeeeee. I do have an affinity for our convoys that we travel in, I enjoy Cahill’s superior driving capabilities, and his turns sharp enough to cut yo mutha. Than again, I am partial to the ruggedness, the brauns, the compensating factor of Kyle’s big blue jeep. It was the last day of a freakish hot spell in San Mateo in the middle of fuckin February, but of course over in the asscrack of the Bay Area we could see our breath over in Half Moon Bay. So anyway after we downed our wieners and Kyle his sandwiches, we got to work on our goddamn dam and made fiya.

Malchow really is a hit with the ladies, he knows that the quickest way to a womans heart is through the wiener. Hah! So thats enough of the piere jokes. K wait, one more. K, done.

As if the land and the air wasn’t cold enough, I got in the water cold enough to make my balls retreat into my anus, but surfing on that tire was worth it. Same with the sail. I tried taking a bite of this big hunka wood and it hurt my teeth real bad, I wouldn’t recommend it.

Malchow was on Baywatch in case you didn’t know. Resemblance?.

What does this look like to you, and NO, you wouldn’t find em here.

Long story short…Ya’ll can’t do likeNBHQ. click here to see all the pics from the beach. And click here to see some BETTER pics

And the video:

- Cheney Got a Gun
- Lego Computer
- Simpsons House
- Weird lookin buildings
- Top 10 Baseball Fights
- Cool Guitars

May I start this post by informing you all that I type this on my brand new box, put together with my bare hands. So last weekend was spent with the boys: J-Boy and I-guy up at Russian River. We spent our time driving my momma into a tizzy gettin thizzy and sippin on that potent oil. Brandy was our poison of choice and we did what damage we could to our brain cells and kidneys lickety split, Joesef on the other hand showed his true womanly colors and coughed up his first swigthrough his nose, but hey, what do u expect.

In the evenings we spent a lotta time shredding about 4 years worth of newspapers and lighting them on fire, People Magazine was spared.

Illicit tasks were carried out in the yard, tasks I am far to chaste to partake in myself were carried out reguardless, with the aid of some hot tunes no less. I love that song.

I tried to look like death in this picture, I’d said I succeeded, Ian fails, and once again, Joe is a —-.

So it’s cool to be on a bed with and a man and lay, even my poppa says that okay, but girls are better play, and Joe is a bitch if I do say.

Hope you enjoyed that stupid rhyme scheme and thats all the talking about Russian River that I can handle.

Last night I was working on this very post when I heard a rapping at my bedroom window, I knew without a second thought that it was Emily & Ashley on the other side…for months I have been the subject of their well executed pranks, everything from chalkings, to car saran wrapping to downright threats. This latest attack however, takes the win, lady pads covered in ketchup lined my walls…the pungent tomatoe-ey aroma was quick to suffocate any and all fresh air out of my walkway not to mention the visual atrocity of feminine hygeine products that have no place on a boys wall. I don’t think I am alone in thinking that had to be the nastiest prank of all time. Thanks beezies.

Yeh and I got some videos up:

- Updated TheSpace
- Worlds Fastest Rapper
- 10 Weirdest Places
- NES Songs
- Jack Bauer Facts