What the hell was in those pancakes?

Another wonderful night at Timmys, and a brief encounter with a certain girl who hails from the Buffalo region these days. The idea of taking a camcorder out to document a typical night was discussed between shots of terrible, terrible, terrible whiskey last night. I for one am all for it, provided people's faces are blurred out for legal purposes, as well as self esteem issues. Last night for example would have been a great night to record things, so that whatever the hell ended up in those pancakes could have been seen; it was like the equivalent of 50 cases of grain alcohol into my jugular vein. One thing that wasn't in those pancakes was watermelon though, because that ended up in/on Wallace's car->then onto Tommy D's back. I wish I was a picture guy, there would be pictures of that, because funny it was.

Today is Saturday, which makes tomorrow Sunday/Father's Day/Skynyrd Day. I'm pumped, it's gonna be a nice little Sunday, if you haven't gotten tickets maybe you should think about going to play a little hide the potato with your life partner, because you're not really that cool anyway. And a ninja is probably just going to chop your face off before too long.

Can you believe somebody said they like Matchbox 20? I mean seriously, I know it's a big joke perpetuated by radio, mtv, and vh-1 that leads to R. Thomas ever being seen or heard, but that doesn't mean my friends have to get in on it too. Hey, lets be honest here, thats what we're doing right? Matchbox is the lamest thing ever, and nobody seriously likes them or listens to them, and if I ever went to a Matchbox 20 concert I should probably go kill myself...wait, damn it-> kinda have to go kill myself now. But not until after the Skynyrd 'cert; gonna do my pennance southern rock style all day. As always, rock out with your smock out.

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