In an effort to satisfy the innate affinity one has to scan through stacks of photos in hopes in catching a glimpse at their own narcissistic mug I have spent the lamer part of 2 hours coding and tagging in the gallery to bring you :
With this lil beaut you can simple stick your name in the gallery search field www.nbhq.net/gallery/tag/YOURNAME, take for example, the pink one himself : http://nbhq.net/gallery/tag/pinky - that mofo shows like like 200 times so chances are you are too. Have a go.
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…
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?
For some more than a years time I have neglected my own duties as autobiographer extraordinaire, glorifying the life of a procrastinator, succumbing to the draw of dereliction. And so an absent life chapter sudden spilled, drips down to my fingertips and pools here on this blessed domain of interweb greatness. The poster will post on, my waistline silhouette will continue to appear lumplike on the pocketside with the camera snug, I will still pick up every human and domesticated animal within my vicinity, I will most definitely continue to take, and upload about one photo too many, and the sentences will run on. Run on sentence… Run on…
In hopes of sparing my scarce readers any further I will divert now from words of ramble to favorite pics of many. (From May ’07 to last week)
And look forward to the next one… I give my word itll be in less than 14 months.
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.
