If you need to get ahold of me this weekend you can reach me by homing pigeon.
It's a weird feeling listening to songs you burned to a mix cd in high school on wax 12 years later. Shocker: they sound infinitely better than those Napster rips. (ft. A subtle cameo by Bishop Cider's mooning William Wallace sticker.)
Obligatory reflective post-vacation selfie reminiscing about victories, triumphs, high fives, Paul Rudd movies, Rocket League, never once successfully kicking a goddamn field goal in Madden 17, slightly illicit substances, disproportionate excitement over leftover garlic bread ham sandwiches, likely influenced by said slightly illicit substances (allegedly), and oh yeah some mountain stuff.
Obligatory geared out selfie. Crushin it, Red Bull and stuff.
Taking it all in.
Put me in charge of dinner and I'm not gonna mess around. Thanks to sous chef @joelamalone for chopping stuff with a sorry excuse for a knife that might as well have been a piece of shrapnel.