January 2nd, the Old Timer's Game at Fenway Park.
And my ride....Longshot
Of course, I had to move out...
And I threw a bunch of shit out like this former companion...
And I packed up a Budget truck full of MOST of my shit to store in balmy Greenwood Lake.
When I got home, it was time to scrap a lot of belongings to make room for the influx of stuff I had accumulated, which turned out to be a hilarious and humiliating trip down memory lane. Join me as I wear things like THIS!
FOR THE LAST TIME. BARF. AND THIS!!!
GAG.
BLOMIT.
I used to think this shit was cool. I used to wear it to a Saturday morning bowling league, which I also thought was cool, and was, in fact, awesome. I wanted to wake up early for this waaay more than school. I'd wear one of these shirts with a pair of Jnco jeans that had a dead squirrel on them. They suffered a demoralizing fate that I'll not mention here. OK, it involved the ex girlfriend and poop. Oh boy a great joke is in there somewhere. Look at this fuckin peice of clothing. It has armpit vents for excessive sweaters. Speaking of excessive sweaters, I had like four or five sweaters that wore like garbage bags on me. Maybe if I wore sweaters that were meant for offensive linemen, I'd look less fat.
Oh, yeah look at that little silver mesh area. Air out them pits, Dan.
When I finally got everything organized and packed, I got to stop in NYC to get lunch with Mr. Bryan Plust. We both seemed to have pretty ridiculously cool shit going on for us. I want to travel up to Vermont next year and help him build shit on his property and hopefully learn some skills. the more I come to know individuals who becomes pedicabbers, I see more that they are fucking brilliant people, some kind of thirsty, burning personalities.
And then I went to New Jersey.
$19.99??? That's WAAAY too expensive for New Jersey.
That's a little better.
Hopefully, this will be the last time Longshot is ever in New Jersey. I, on the other hand, will undoubtedly find myself in Montclair or Teaneck or Hoboken, or fucking Paramus for some reason. Shit, I fly into Newark. FML. See what I'm sayin' here?
This is what my backseat will look like for 80% of the trip.
This is the mini hoopty on my dash. Littleshot moves her way across the dash in proportion to how far I've gone on my trip. (Distances are approximated) Thanks to Paul Dixon for this gift at the end of "Beauty Queen of Leenane" Who knew I'd actually be driving something just like it?!
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I just found this picture to be somewhat ironic, considering it is in the section of the American History Museum about Jews, and my current vocation.
Just checking in here to see if my head is actually throbbing.
The image quality here is about right for how lucid I was in Adams Morgan, Washington D.C.
A Danny and a beer is a great combination...
This is a great get at a bar in DC-yeah, the girl is what I was referring to...not the can of Steel Reserve...sure, that's the ticket.
Didn't expect to see Kyle's bike down here!
Kirsten's cat was precariously perched on the shower curtain rod. It struggled not to fall for several minutes. Images of that poster "Shit!" came to mind. Asheville, NC.
Bamboo outside the Biltmore Mansion in Asheville. A really impressive driveway. It is the largest house in the US. They charge admission to go look at it, so I just took a picture of the drive up. What am I, rich?
Littleshot leaving Asheville.
Merica!
Merica!
MERICA!!!!
Sigh...Merica...
sigh....merca.
These are some confused and lost looking lights at The Rail Pub in Savannah. Really busy for a Wednesday, and high production values...for a Wednesday...? Again, I'm a dork, go back and look at the shirts I used to wear. Adjust your volume lower now.
Enjoy my ride through Forsyth Park in Savannah. Sorry about the bumpy path. God, who is operating that camera?
This is frustrating, amiright pedicabbers?
That guy was mad chill. We had a long pedicab chat.
It was very welcoming to initally arrive and repeatedly return home to this sign,
..and then it is followed by this...
It wasn't easy to get a shot of this considering it is basically on I-195. So this video explains how it happened.
That cop car is empty, been sittin' there for weeks!
Mike and I did this aforementioned ride to Key Biscayne. Here he is as he motors over the giant bridge.
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Near fancy, fancy Lincoln Road, where I fancily lived near.
Toilet plants at "Le Tub", a great burger joint. Makes sense, yeah?
Even the fake people have fake tits. I saw so many fake sets that it caused me to very frequently ask myself, "Are they real?"
The appropriate answer is, "Who cares?"
Paging Mr. Shaw...Mr Rick Shaw. Your transportation has arrived. By the way, I had to go 2.8 miles to get to this point. And of course I had to return the contraption. You can do crazy shit with that thing when people are in the back since the center of gravity changes so drastically. It's actually easier to do with people in the back, except for uphill.
Ken has a hard time making friends at away games.
Also, this happened.... Yes, that is Ken's voice.
The Littleshot!
A la The Ducks in the Public Gardens. I still love Boston.
Miami Beach looking North.
Port of Miami.
Look at this huge boat!
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Enjoy this bike ride down on the south of South Beach. The Art Deco style is pretty sweet.
Artistic shot...
Discovering total Wine and Spirits' wall of singles! Pick and mix a six pack! Baaaah!
This tree has a lot of balls...Just observing and glad to be in a more tropical climate.
"The Head Set"
Irish Dean after his bar fight. His eye got worse. Badasspedicabber, and mocked my car for making it down here because his mechanic said his Jeep would not.
Enjoy "America's Backyard." What a shit show. Adjust volume now.
Mr D. says, "I feel bad for the dope who gets a haircut that stops him from communicating with all women."
In the Arts center of Miami Beach where the floor was tiled up by one artist and the corners decorated in various ways, such as this with chess pieces.
What is this, fuedalism?
Upon asking for parmesan cheese to cover up the taste of this mediocre slice, I was referred to this sign, and I realized that grammar was more important to me than parmesan cheese.
Osama Bin Laden's face in the urinal pad. It preached something about stopping terrorism, but it was kind of obscured by all that urine that came out of my penis. Frankly, I'd rather pee on a bee, it helps me enjoy the experience a little more. There are enough men around when I'm pulling my cock out at a urinal, so a man's face does not need to be what I aim at.
So there was a solid photo entry of the last month and change. It was outrageously fun and I don't see things slowing down any time soon. Update about the Superbowl and leaving Miami in the next few days.
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