So I meet up with the Evomo crew after Interbike last week. That show is not my style. Id rather be out rippin some trails than walking around some dumpy air conditioned germ infested trade show. Oh and for your information Mr. Hoss, I am not going to some crap-ass flea riddled magic show with cats.
After i finished watching some payperview in my room at Mandalay Bay, I cleaned up, did a little man-scapeing and told my bloaks to meet me at LAX. I mostly didnt want to have to go to the Tropicana again and get hit on by the 85 year old waitress that for some reason is always around when I am walking thru the casino. I dont know how she knows my name either.Â I would have said meet me at Hooters, but come on, nylon stockings?
I do know that you can’t show up in shorts and a t-shirt at these places, so we had to do quick queer eye for the straight guy make over on good ole captain morgan (aka Miller Time). Once we had some decent threads on him, we snapped a taxi over to to LAX, we had some drinks and chilled with some ladies.
Miller downed about 4 Tweekin Puerto Ricans and seemed more than ready to go. I guess it must be the training the military put him thru. In any cause, that guy can hold his own.
Apologies for the acid trip photos.. my wanker friends were messing with my camera all night and left it on some douche bag setting called squirley-bright-flash-crap setting and I was a bit sloggered so not the best pics but you get the idea.
Oh speaking of douche bag, if I see one more wanker in “high end”-diamond-studded-ass-over-embroidered-torn-ripped-stained-jeans, I am going to punch him in the face. Loose the sad poser look that is clearly telling us you wish you were a rock star, so you bought some $400 denim.Â You are not cool. You look like you should be on Americans Idol or whatever that show is called.
Hell!Â Douche Baggery is out of control in this city.Â Everyone thinks they are the shit, well i say lets see your fat ass rip some gnarly single track and still have the energy to take it home to mama.Â Give it up ladies! GIVE IT UP! Mila Kunis, please answer my calls.
My cousin DJ Luc (Not a Douche Bag – has mad ladies and showers daily unlike myself) was spinin massive beats all night long over at Rain so we got the wicked hookup. What the bloody hell is up with the psycho taxi drivers in Vegas? It was like we were in the bourne ultimatum or some shit, running from the government. ah well, we made it in one piece and I will always remember to wear my seat belt.
Thanks to Luc and of course myself, we had plenty of beautiful girls rollin with us once we got there. Drinkin, dancing and having a blast. I gotta get off the can now and get ready for my flight to Toronto. In case you didnt realize, about the only time I have for this bloggin crap is when I am on the crapper.Â Appropriate huh.