IHADAV8.com - Turbo Buick Tech, and Nonsense
General => IHADAV8 Playground => Topic started by: DCEPTCN on November 11 2008, 02:56:21 PM
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I'm bouncing off of the walls of the truck here in Salt Lake waiting for next weekend. After Brian, myself and some friends burn the town of Ocotillo CA to it's foundations for as-of-yet undisclosed reasons then we will undoubtedly hit the Pizza Port in Carlsbad on the way up to Anaheim to be greatly humbled by the bucketed one. Behold- your official thread.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pngkxpmhMAg&feature=related
(http://pics4.city-data.com/cpicc/cfiles26272.jpg)
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Is that Ocotillo? Sure as hell looks like it. Expect burnouts on that road, and I mean from a car, not us.
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Sylvan surrounded by Mormons.
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Sylvan surrounded by Mormons.
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Okay, Francois. :cool;
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Is that Ocotillo? Sure as hell looks like it. Expect burnouts on that road, and I mean from a car, not us.
Sho 'nuff, bro. I regret that I'll be driving and unable to lift the Blessed Stag while there.
Zap, picked up any rare import VDs lately?
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Probably, but who's counting!
Once you have to scratch, one itch is the same as another.
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Buckethead, Buckethead, Buckethead!!!!
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Jager, Jager, Jager!!!
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I hope that you guys have a really kick ass time there. :supz:
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...waking up at Brian's house...fuckin g wrecked.
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It's a good pain, right?
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...waking up at Brian's house...fuckin g wrecked.
God damned wimpy-assed hippie. :snakeman:
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...waking up at Brian's house...fuckin g wrecked.
God damned wimpy-assed hippie.
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Just make sure you don't plug in the Coor's and drink the guitars.
Wait a damn minute, Coor's light? God damned wimpy-assed hippie.
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Just make sure you don't plug in the Coor's and drink the guitars.
Wait a damn minute, Coor's light? God damned wimpy-assed hippie.
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Why would I drink a 26 mile race? You are wasted. :supz:
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You are wasted.
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Waiting on the pics Natty Lynch promised.... :supz:
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So how was the Bucket?
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Waiting on the pics Natty Lynch promised.... :supz:
Maybe they are still hung over from the weekend. I want to see pictures also.
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Brian called me the other night. It sounded like they had gotten wicked torn up. :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer: :atbeer:
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The show was too short. :mad; On the upside though, I was swilling Jag/Coors/Guiness/Tequila Buffalo Sweat/Natty Light like there was no tomorrow. In fact, any more liquor and I fear there might not have been. I got home this morning at 2:30, slept for a couple of hours and headed into work like the walking dead. All in all, I had a mighty right time while Zap sat at home and parodied his evening away. Oh, and I even stayed in room 231 at the Travelodge (take that, Holiday Inn Express).
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kzQzORTJMUs&feature=related
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:newbucket1: :newbucket1: :newbucket1: :newbucket1: :newbucket1: :newbucket1:
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I'm gonna have a 3 day hangover, I know it. All shots I took were on Polaroid, so I got to get these scanned. The girl we brought out to the desert (for our top secret project) got a lot of it on her camera, still got to get those.
Thursday night I got out of work late, met Sylvan at my dad's house and proceeded to get wrecked. I remember there being a bottle of Jager, a shit ton of Coors Light, 2 40's and a 6 pack of Mickey's being involved.
Friday we drove all over hell, Sylvan did actually, me being still drunk and all. Sylvan met my pops and a few of my friends. I waited and waited for a set of BFG's to come in for my GN, and when the shop dropped the ball, we got wrecked, again.
The next morning I mounted 2 Goodyear Eagles onto the Brick and bombed out to the desert for some fun. From there we shot out to LA and the rest is blurry.
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I'm gonna have a 3 day hangover, I know it. All shots I took were on Polaroid, so I got to get these scanned. The girl we brought out to the desert (for our top secret project) got a lot of it on her camera, still got to get those.
Thursday night I got out of work late, met Sylvan at my dad's house and proceeded to get wrecked. I remember there being a bottle of Jager, a shit ton of Coors Light, 2 40's and a 6 pack of Mickey's being involved.
Friday we drove all over hell, Sylvan did actually, me being still drunk and all. Sylvan met my pops and a few of my friends. I waited and waited for a set of BFG's to come in for my GN, and when the shop dropped the ball, we got wrecked, again.
The next morning I mounted 2 Goodyear Eagles onto the Brick and bombed out to the desert for some fun. From there we shot out to LA and the rest is blurry.
I wish you would of told us about the tires!
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Sounds like a kick azz time.
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It was fun.
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I wish I coulda F'ed that chick in the Chuck Taylors. :sad;
We made Brian throw up, BTW. What was it again? Gatorade, chocolate syrup and toilet papah? *YIFF!*
I'm just glad that I managed to avoid falling in Brian's Dad's pool...what is that fucker, a 12 footer?
All I really remember about Friday night at the house of Lynch is standing up to take a leak and saying, "...and THAT, my friend, was the only time I ever sharted".
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I threw up by sipping lime Gatorade with chocolate syrup and toilet paper for texture.
Ahh... the things I do for art. The pool IS quite deep, and empty, only negating chances of survival. Friday, that's right, 4:30am.
I swapped an excellent shart story with Sylvan, I'd explain it here, but without me acting out the scene, it loses it's horror.
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OMG, I thought you typo'd "short story" for a second there.
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All kinds of things are slowing filtering back into my brain. Sylvan met my Dad, and my Dad refused to call him Sylvan. Sylvan ended up my my old hood, took him by where POD used to live, met my mom, met a couple homies tuning Hondas.
Sylvan needs to tell you guys about the hotel guy in the desert, total fucking creep.
Back in Sna Diego he got behind the wheel of my GN and forgot how 'small' they were.
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All kinds of things are slowing filtering back into my brain. Sylvan met my Dad, and my Dad refused to call him Sylvan.
I like your Dad's style.
So, did he call him Shithead or Douchbag? :snakeman:
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Neither, the name is under wraps, most likely for the probation department. First night, I got off of work late, 10pm. Shot up to meet Sylvan at my Dad's. Threw him in an old Toyota pickup, hauled ass to my house, where he commandeered a Camaro SS and had trouble finding first...
From there (ask Sylvan about the Toyota ride...) he shot back up to my Dad's and got wrecked. Let's see if Sylvan can fill in some blanks here.
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Let's see...motel guy at check in was in perfect health but walked by the open door of the room mere moments later (several times) with a walker and a neck brace...?!
Brian's dad liked to call me by my middle name...no harm done, right?
Toyota doing 75 or so around a 35mph exit ramp. I have to guess at the speed because it had no speedo needle. (That's what Zap calls his Johnson, btw)
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Sylvan Underwraps Albertus? That's a weird fucking name.
no harm done, right?
I dunno. We all know how sensitive you musicians can get.
The Motel Guy was a ghost, and there was no motel.
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I dunno. We all know how sensitive you musicians can get.
The Motel Guy was a ghost, and there was no motel.
I chaffe easily.
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Gold Bond Body Powder.