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 | Food. Beer. Talk.
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 | No description |
 | OK, fuck this thing. The only reason we let it live is that we were
afraid of its wrath. If you can't tell, that's a big bug being wrapped up by
an even bigger spider. If you have a 21" monitor, it should be about
actual size.
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 | Drew and Shelly playing Asshole... with Vodka? Damn.
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 | I don't think we're taking this game very seriously. Well, Nick might be.
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 | I think I'm pretending I love the whiskey or something. Since that very same
bottle is just about as full as when this picture was taken, it's obviously
not true.
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 | Drew and Nick
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 | Rob and Dave
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 | Is anyone paying attention to this game?
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 | "Oh no, he di'int! Fo' real?"
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 | I don't remember what was going on here, but it was probably gross.
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 | Is this a game of Mushroom or a picture of an awesome (and original) rock band?
If you can't tell, why should I?
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 | Careful...
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 | Yup. That's about all he's good for.
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 | Christine goes for a risky drop on the far side. Drew waits for her to fuck up.
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 | No matter what we're talking about, it's obvious from our faces that we're
right and you, mystery person on the left, are wrong.
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 | Nabber feels safe flashing his gang signs in the middle of Tennessee.
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 | Just plain hot.
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 | Do I look like that because I have longer arms than everyone else, or am I
just a goofy shit?
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 | This might seem like a pointless picture, but further inspection will reveal
that it's comedy gold. Look in the background and you'll see women trying to
read a map. Ha. You can't make this stuff up.
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 | Rob: "I reckon we ought to shoot sumthin'."
Nabber: "Yep. I reckon."
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 | Blam!
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 | Blam! (Christine was good a catching the shell casings in mid-air.)
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 | Coming soon: Blam!
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 | Ummm. The best explanation I can give is "it was there, and we had a
shotgun".
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 | "I don't smoke... but my cigarettes do."
(That's much funnier if you get the reference to those shirts that gay people
wear - which you don't or I wouldn't have to explain it. OK, sorry I wasted
your time.)
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 | Jill and Nick
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