Got Him In a Full-Nelson.

"Yesterday is dead and gone.
 Tomorrow's out of sight.
And it's so sad to be alone.
Help me make it through the night."

Z-Boys in Venice Beach

All to ourselves, on account of the weather.

On that legal tip.

No light-tricks or photo-flubbery. Just a long, long-ass fry. Wasn't two in the morning, though.

Landon takes the long walk.

Came and saw. And conquered-ish.

Dreamin' Continued

Casa de Robbie. Luxurious and spacious.

He has an orange tree out back.

We partook. Apparently I have no idea how to properly eat an orange. Mufucka still got ate, though.

Looks like a skull. Trippy, mane.

Hollywood, just visible.

Trying to find Bill Murray's place.

This one's for Kyle.

Click to go big, and read this shit. Epic.

Dreamin'

Found The Roach, Momma. Some 'hoods stole off with it, repainted the muv.

One of them is a real person and one of them isn't. Mind games. Hawt.

The Supreme Bowl. LEGENDARY. Right after I took this, the kid on the left told me no photography was allowed. With the air of, "You stupid, stupid touristy fuck." I fucking can't stand being put in my place by somebody younger than me. I was pretty irritated for the next hour or so.

Landon and the rent-a-whip. The Sentra was essential to the success of our stay, and didn't act up not a once. Thanks, Nissan.

Lonely Lyle.

But he still has his arms. He still has his legs. 

Nowhere to walk to, though. And nothing to hold.

Lacking Restraint

These things are absolutely functional. Unscrew the caps and fill. Your condiments will shoot out of the nips. I might ask the Bird to start holding my wallet.

I. Love. My. Apartment. So. Fucking. Much.


The nail polish was meticulously selected and applied by Shelley. It's called Cajun Shrimp.

Circle Twerks

Photos by Don Jon and that Strange Bird. Good times had by all.