Nick and Matt take one last picture before our bodies violently rejected the award-winning amounts of alcohol we put in them.

I haven't met all the midgets in the world, but I can say with certainty that this has got to be the toughest one.

Angelo, Hasser, and I about to fuck Vegas in the face.

Me and the leading cause of robot eviscerations at children's pizza parties, Chuck E. Cheese.

Think about this: if you die, the twenty six times you watched The Last Starfighter will have been completely wasted.

At a Suicide Girls X-mas party, Mr. Satan finally helps me take a picture in which I don't have the stupidest hair.

Nay and I give the Seattle airport free tickets to the gun show.

It's about here when Crispin and I realized that Nick is secretly a bionic super soldier and every memory of his past are phony implants installed by a mysterious organization. And now the three of us have 72 hours to parachute into a racing speedboat and defeat the organization's leader and a gorilla before the computer disk that holds his real memories goes over the waterfall.

One of the reasons they say a picture is worth a thousand words is because of pictures like this.

Ai and I are going to sine your piddy on the runny kine. All the way down.

We peed on this statue months before one of the people in it was tragically eaten by a tiger, and this was still an acceptable comedic tourist photo.


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