Living in a beach community really has its advantages. Nothing like hitting the shoreline with a couple homies. We got the brews, we got the bowls, we got the poles (no homo), now we just got to get down this monsterous hill. Inlanders are jealous of this shit:
and so the hike begins:
words of advice: always keep a pair of cleats nearby, you never know when youre gonna have to scale down the side of a dirt and rock cliff infested with rattle snakes and empty beer cans.
Destination reached. The tidepools a.k.a. the lifepools. So much shit going on in these waters. reminds me of the underwater singing scene in The Little Mermaid, except these crabs werent playing the steel drums they were fighting for squid scraps and the fish werent playing dancing they were running for their lives.
Day 2 of Relaxationfest 2007 started much like any other day. Rolled out of bed around noon, handled some buisness and hit the turf. It wasnt before long that we decided it was time to press our luck and hit the track.
Aint no beers like dollar beers.
mobbed out 10 deep to Hollywood Park, the haze was in the air and beer was being consumed in an alarming rate. Couple of the homies brought out their significant others:
some crew shit:
My boy Nick a.k.a. Re-Nick-ulous of the X-games, Dew Action Sports Tour, and Jose Cuervo is ballin so hard he owns a couple horses running the track...Big Dog Status:
As always, i leave with less money then when i arrived, but didnt spend as much as i wouldve at the bars so its a win/win in my book. This sign continues to mock me as i leave:
always make sure the fucking car you drive in is capable of making the there and back trip. For rookies, being stranded on Century Blvd in the heart of Inglewood could possibly be a hood overdose. The crackheads are a-smokin, the hookers are a-trickin, and the car was a-sittin.
Day 3 of my siesta called for a birthday fiesta. With two kegs and mad jell-o shots ready for consumption the day was bound to be a great one. Hope you had a good birthday Talia!!! The birthday girl rocking with the band:
Shout to Local Hate for jamming at the party:
The homie Black came out and enjoyed the festivities:
We were treated to the lightweight drunk slap box championships of the world. Poppa vs. Peanut...yall niggas cant throw hands son:
you know you're in the right spot when Patty Quinn is there. Here she is with the victor of the slap box championships:
one of my top dogs, Freddy Fat Fingers a.k.a. Jaws a.k.a. Smalls:
Talia + Jell-o Shots = The Talia Dance:
Give me beer, herb and a house filled with tatted up brunettes and im in heaven. No leopards or cheetahs were harmed in the making of this bra being worn by this amazing looking young lady:
Bird Call!!!!!
When the smoke clears the guitar hero shall emerge...much to the dismay of his gorgeous sidekick:
until next time kiddies...Love, Peace, and Chicken Grease
-KT2K
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