untitled
Bling Kong
(doesn't get to) choose [its] own misadventure
Boston, 6/23/07
Our (t)rusty Vangina got towed a few weeks ago, and was not happy after the Marshall had its way with it. It did lots of shimmy shakin' and scary noise makin'. We took it to the mechanic and thought it was all better, but it was still very unhappy.
Skywriters were buzzing around Williamsburg as we were packing up the van and trailer. We saw this. It's a good sign, right? Sizzler shrugged and got behind the wheel. It was soon clear that we couldn't drive faster than 50 mph. How far to Boston, again?
Our fearless leader. Nice shades.
Us, getting passed for the zillionth time. The paper on the dahsboard is a letter from the Marshall saying we can't get towed for the same unpaid parking tickets no mo'. After a peek under the 'gina at a snack stop along the highway, Moneyshot said he can see a dent in the driveshaft. Shit.
The crew. Shredder is enjoying one of BK's favorite pastimes: snacks! I just told Moneyshot that if the driveshaft drops out, we're going to make him push.
By the time we make it to TT's, it's way dark. Night, even. As in, "the."
So then some stuff happened, rock was occurred, drinks drunk, and we went to crash at Andy's house. Andy is in two fantastic bands, the Bon Savants and Bang Camaro. We love Andy. More so, though, because we found this mask of Duane "The Rock" Johnson in his living room. Work, bitch!
There was a mask inside the mask. Phantom of the WWE ring? Can you smell what the Rock is cooking?
Whatever, she loves it.
Not to be outdone, Steakbomb takes a turn.
Pythons.
Whatever, he loves it too. Headbutts are the new reacharound.
I got tired of taking pictures of everyone else.
Hot, hotter, hottest. My second chin is my best feature.
Sizzler saw Pig Destroyer and all he got was this awesome T-shirt, and maybe a few bruises.
At a mall outside Boston. Sears Auto says they can't help us today, so we say 'fuck it' and go to the food court to eat us some food. On the way there, we encounter an airbrush kiosk. Moneyshot says this is an Irish name. I think I met a blue-eyed Irishman once. Pretty sure they were contacts, though.
A friend in Boston recommends a friend who is a mechanic. We pick him up north of Boston, and then drive south of Boston to this junkyard used auto parts location.
Look, he's presenting! Too sexy! Also, those are my shiny shoes. I'm a magpie.
I was going to follow the boys jumping from hood to hood but then realized that the yard was muddy. Not going to ruin my shiny shoes, so I took pictures instead!
Tire pile.
Shortbus sandwich.
Somewhere behind that leaning tower of Blazer, Sizzler is having a ton of fun. Elsewhere, not everyone was half as amused.
Shredder makes phone calls. Coincidentally, she was on the phone with someone from Texas.
Make do with what you have
Take what you can get
Pay no mind to us
We're just a minor threat
If we don't find a driveshaft here, we're going to sign up the Vangina for this.
Milkshake rocks out, Steakbomb sleeps.
While we wait, I read. I wanted to show everyone what I was doing while everyone else was doing all these other things, but really, I just wanted to take a picture with my legs open. Oh snap!
Moneyshot finds us a driveshaft, and Dave the Mechanic fixes our shit in the parking lot of a popular hardware store chain. I hear he's also featured in a calendar called "Men At Work In Skirts." Hot. He has nice pigtails.
Workin' it, and twerkin' it.
Moneyshot was right! The rubber glove is because we believe in safer sex.
Hey Sizzler, do you want to see the dent in the driveshaft?
What about you, Totally? Guys?
Dave rules, so the van is up and running beautifully before I can even start crocheting. Unfortch, we get caught in bad bad traffic so we're still not driving very fast. Awww.
This dude has the right idea--camping at a highway entrance in a traffic jam! Kudos to your sensibility, dude.
And then we got home. THE END.
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