B.A.M. 3.31.06 SIR PSYCHO

Location: Big Sur, California
Vulture Attacks Survived: 1
Campsites Poached: 2
Betty Crocker Beef Stroganoff Consumed (lbs.): 3
Lunar Eclipses: 1
Laws/Warnings Disregarded: 7-10
Pacific Water Temperature (Degrees Fahrenheit): 56
Gonads: Frozen
Pt. Sur Wave Height (Feet): 6-8
Waves Actually Surfed / Attempts: 0/mucho
Albums Played (split evenly among RHCP, The Pixies, and Dead Kennedys): Blood, Sugar, Sex, Magik; Californication; Mother's Milk, One Hot Minute; Plastic Surgery Disasters; In God We Trust, Inc.; Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables; Trompe le Monde; Doolittle

despite the two hours spent in the cozy hottub, i'm still motherfucking chilly and sore, so i'll restrict the bulk of this post to a silly, illiterate, unoriginal photo-essay. however, i should point out that, once again, i shouldn't really have survived much of what happened in the past 72 hours, but i'm starting to get used to it; not because of anything spectacularly ballsy i did, but merely as a result of my own stupidity, so i've dubbed thee, post, 'Sir Psycho' autobiographically. wheeeeee!

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the funk will make me freak
If I should die before I waked
Allow me lord to rock out naked
Bored by the ordinary time to take a trip
Calling up a little girl with a bull whip
Lickety split go snap snap
Girl gettin'’ off all in my lap
The tallest the sweetest sap
Blowin' my ass right off the map
Ooow and it'’s nice out here
I think I'’ll stay for a while

he's a freak of nature, but we love him so...

apologies for the delinquency and sterility of my posts, but i've been busy with 'spring break,' during which i landed and began working two jobs. woot.