tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8114008487984571142024-03-12T18:54:21.086-05:00NUScollectiveNUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.comBlogger125125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-58987215069917146482009-11-19T18:22:00.000-06:002009-11-19T18:23:17.881-06:00wtf?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_L75GHXVB16o/SwXhaH7EZOI/AAAAAAAAA28/-_EkCW-STXg/s1600/nusmotherfucks.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_L75GHXVB16o/SwXhaH7EZOI/AAAAAAAAA28/-_EkCW-STXg/s400/nusmotherfucks.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405974766647796962" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-69044299909417101632009-08-10T22:52:00.001-05:002009-08-10T22:53:10.439-05:00nuscollective.com/blog<br /><br />the site will be 100% soonNUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-55088836264589705662009-07-21T23:52:00.006-05:002009-07-21T23:57:33.052-05:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SmabkBBS2ZI/AAAAAAAAALE/mJLRtANXHPw/s1600-h/TaitPhotography-4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361143449482615186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SmabkBBS2ZI/AAAAAAAAALE/mJLRtANXHPw/s320/TaitPhotography-4.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SmabftHd3XI/AAAAAAAAAK8/0Q4nK2jJCM0/s1600-h/TaitPhotography-3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361143375420317042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SmabftHd3XI/AAAAAAAAAK8/0Q4nK2jJCM0/s320/TaitPhotography-3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SmabaWU0UII/AAAAAAAAAK0/Ed1y-0w-ItM/s1600-h/TaitPhotography-5.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361143283402952834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SmabaWU0UII/AAAAAAAAAK0/Ed1y-0w-ItM/s320/TaitPhotography-5.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SmabVbyvY2I/AAAAAAAAAKs/83CtAtmp9cI/s1600-h/TaitPhotography-2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361143198971290466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SmabVbyvY2I/AAAAAAAAAKs/83CtAtmp9cI/s320/TaitPhotography-2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SmabLzz5lxI/AAAAAAAAAKk/iDi_1RL7Plk/s1600-h/TaitPhotography-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361143033619912466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SmabLzz5lxI/AAAAAAAAAKk/iDi_1RL7Plk/s320/TaitPhotography-1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#ffff00;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffff00;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffff00;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffff00;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffff00;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffff00;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffff00;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffff00;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#ffff00;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="color:#3333ff;">Ernie Booms Productions</span></strong></div><div></div><div>photos<span style="color:#3333ff;">/</span>Travis Tait</div></div></div></div></div>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-23044673212004901632009-07-08T23:48:00.004-05:002009-07-09T00:32:50.849-05:00Flaming Ford<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SlV_a0ioPNI/AAAAAAAAAKc/M8-2GKmjdT4/s1600-h/Carfire-37.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356327430584286418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SlV_a0ioPNI/AAAAAAAAAKc/M8-2GKmjdT4/s320/Carfire-37.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SlV-pE8SwII/AAAAAAAAAKU/It77eJa_v0k/s1600-h/Carfire-62.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356326575993438338" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SlV-pE8SwII/AAAAAAAAAKU/It77eJa_v0k/s320/Carfire-62.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SlV-iJuh8KI/AAAAAAAAAKM/OZTrx5A4Vmo/s1600-h/Carfire-59.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356326457018806434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SlV-iJuh8KI/AAAAAAAAAKM/OZTrx5A4Vmo/s320/Carfire-59.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SlV-bEaxGVI/AAAAAAAAAKE/vqUPxrkvIaQ/s1600-h/Carfire-42.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356326335334652242" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SlV-bEaxGVI/AAAAAAAAAKE/vqUPxrkvIaQ/s320/Carfire-42.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SlV9wBMNqAI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/RL_WGtjqG7Y/s1600-h/Carfire-3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356325595733927938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SlV9wBMNqAI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/RL_WGtjqG7Y/s320/Carfire-3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Photos<span style="color:#ff0000;">/</span>TravisTait</span></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;">How does a Ford Windstar <span style="color:#ff0000;">burn</span> in front of a camera store and nobody gets a picture?</span></div></div><div><span style="font-family:arial;">I caught the aftermath, but I wanted fire. </span></div></div></div>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-53149590394989952702009-06-11T01:00:00.003-05:002009-06-11T01:05:38.741-05:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SjCeiEm26OI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/j31QJjfxZ_8/s1600-h/pan.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345947065878243554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 207px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SjCeiEm26OI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/j31QJjfxZ_8/s320/pan.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SjCd3n0WQVI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fJYcwtj8kpg/s1600-h/reid.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345946336595689810" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 310px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SjCd3n0WQVI/AAAAAAAAAJs/fJYcwtj8kpg/s320/reid.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div></div>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-3936469873899233092009-06-08T17:01:00.003-05:002009-06-08T17:18:50.772-05:00You're Just Not a DudeSo I'm quite positive everyone who is reading this has been hungry at some point in their life. To a point when you feel more easily agitated. Trivial things that happen piss you off, and it's easier for you to flip out and throw a little bit of a temper tantrum. Now not that I've tried, but I'm sure it's the same when you're quitting smoking. Similarities surface in women when they are facing their inevitable 28 day ventures, but I don't know if it's the same, I'm not a woman. However, I am certain that the same rising aggravation is installed directly into mens brains when they feel a lack of sexual release. You know, when they haven't cum. Everyone's a cummer. Noone's broken. For you women who think you are, you're fine, you just haven't experienced great oral sex as of yet. But when you see a guy out murdering people or raping young church boys, it's probably because he just really needs to cum. So the next time your boyfriend flips out because you asked him what type of sandwich meat he'd like on his bagel you should probably just suck a dick.NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-71527623071977193582009-06-04T11:32:00.008-05:002009-06-04T11:54:25.414-05:00Hot Dog eating contest at the Mansion<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif7xWuqowI/AAAAAAAAAJk/lrAVy2b-SUg/s1600-h/dogs.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343516308231856898" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif7xWuqowI/AAAAAAAAAJk/lrAVy2b-SUg/s320/dogs.jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif7NOvRvOI/AAAAAAAAAJc/mJ2UPbaOu4w/s1600-h/dogs-2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343515687611645154" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif7NOvRvOI/AAAAAAAAAJc/mJ2UPbaOu4w/s320/dogs-2.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif5xtbxImI/AAAAAAAAAJU/tDqbixpcHWE/s1600-h/dogs-3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343514115303350882" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif5xtbxImI/AAAAAAAAAJU/tDqbixpcHWE/s320/dogs-3.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif5WXIQSaI/AAAAAAAAAJM/Fsuj7FUsgLU/s1600-h/dogs-4.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343513645459458466" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif5WXIQSaI/AAAAAAAAAJM/Fsuj7FUsgLU/s320/dogs-4.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif4zVseYEI/AAAAAAAAAJE/dnSS8uCqv-A/s1600-h/dogs-5.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343513043779084354" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif4zVseYEI/AAAAAAAAAJE/dnSS8uCqv-A/s320/dogs-5.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif4dWoOZII/AAAAAAAAAI8/-RqNUa3w5ik/s1600-h/dogs-6.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343512666072573058" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif4dWoOZII/AAAAAAAAAI8/-RqNUa3w5ik/s320/dogs-6.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif4JOes04I/AAAAAAAAAI0/oP2Xo_1MwCQ/s1600-h/dogs-7.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343512320287757186" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif4JOes04I/AAAAAAAAAI0/oP2Xo_1MwCQ/s320/dogs-7.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif3vWaoJxI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_hPb6cExBv4/s1600-h/dogs-8.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343511875741558546" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sif3vWaoJxI/AAAAAAAAAIs/_hPb6cExBv4/s320/dogs-8.jpg" /></a> Winner took home a very fine ship kindly donated by TJ. He ate 12.5 dogs in 20min. Runners up ate 12. Sadly Nobody puked.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-40771654347084466922009-05-29T11:23:00.004-05:002009-05-29T11:36:04.501-05:00Gangsta as fuck<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SiAN5JRalhI/AAAAAAAAAHs/slzc9k429Q8/s1600-h/DSC_0008.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341284433454077458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SiAN5JRalhI/AAAAAAAAAHs/slzc9k429Q8/s400/DSC_0008.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SiANPSmJ-kI/AAAAAAAAAHk/fojIWWlh_I8/s1600-h/DSC_0005.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341283714402482754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/SiANPSmJ-kI/AAAAAAAAAHk/fojIWWlh_I8/s320/DSC_0005.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>This guy is the real deal. Fohawk with orange tips, scarf (its 17c outside), baggy jeans, plaid shirt, lanyard, chain wallet, fake diamond earing, chongo chrome sunglases, ONE BLACK GLOVE. And the most badass attitude.</div><br /><br /><div>To bad his MOM was paying for his passport pictures. Probably the glove to.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div></div>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-58814499551397210442009-05-11T09:39:00.004-05:002009-05-11T09:46:12.540-05:00Poser<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sgg6HhW_iBI/AAAAAAAAAHc/nqdSQcLWPd8/s1600-h/88190005.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334577659508656146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sgg6HhW_iBI/AAAAAAAAAHc/nqdSQcLWPd8/s320/88190005.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sgg54IOqKaI/AAAAAAAAAHU/L605-9LuFwo/s1600-h/88190025.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334577395064777122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sgg54IOqKaI/AAAAAAAAAHU/L605-9LuFwo/s320/88190025.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sgg5fBV10EI/AAAAAAAAAHM/UopjL9yroJE/s1600-h/88190001.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334576963719123010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 212px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Sgg5fBV10EI/AAAAAAAAAHM/UopjL9yroJE/s320/88190001.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>Im such a loser when it comes to Skateboarding. Put man i can make a tail stall look good out of a old dryer.</div><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><div>Photos by<span style="color:#33ff33;">/</span> James Wall</div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-43477154988957588292009-05-08T11:32:00.002-05:002009-05-08T11:38:37.142-05:00AirSince when do you have to pay for air? While driving the other day i picked up a nail in my tire. So i go to get some air. When i get to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Petro</span> Canada the air hose now has a huge box attached to it and it wants $1 to blow some air into my tire. Is the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">recession</span> making companies crazy? Sure it costs money to buy the compressor but its a service you offer to the customer and maybe they will buy a over priced chocolate bar inside your store. Instead i'll pay the buck and piss on the side of your building.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-57511651184862425532009-05-04T17:13:00.006-05:002009-05-04T22:58:56.774-05:00<p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:85%;"><b>There's a first time for everything, and i mean everything. </b></span></span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:85%;"><b> </b><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" ><b>Tripping out on a psychedelic drug is one thing. But having a gnarly trip, getting a cash reward and then marked a hero seems like pure fate. This guy had it all, not to mention the story that has proved once and again good things come in all forms.</b></span> </span></span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:verdana;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><b> </b><b>Kicking back in rural Manitoba, it was an average night with infinite possibilities- boys’ night in the country at a local’s house-but this time an ounce of mushrooms hit the mix. The prairie air was calm though the anticipation to drop the zoomers was building. Dusk set in and unlike regular nights the boys could feel one another’s energy as they choked down the foul-tasting fungi, hardly noticing its compelling stench amid their excitement.</b><b> </b></span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:verdana;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><b> </b><b>Time crawled until the first sign of unusual ambiance, then BAM suddenly Jason started tripping. Getting high was the mission but his trip was too steep, far beyond comfort. The striped earth-toned wall paper was scrolling as if it were an old fashioned movie projector spinning out of control. He struggled to keep a steady focal point but was convinced that the couches were not the same couches he and his friends had sat on moments before; nothing was the same to him. He had crossed the threshold to another dimension, a place he knew was a reality but rarely had access to. Tonight all he wanted to be was himself again, unaware and back to normal. Jason insisted it was crucial for him to get home immediately. He was severely intoxicated, so he knew the only feasible way home was to walk. The dilemma was that the only way home was the highway. From within their own hallucinations, his friends attempted to retain him within the basement walls, but Jason would not have it. Overcome with claustrophobia and uneasiness he stormed out of the house and into the night.</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:verdana;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><b> What seemed like moments later, Jason's companions received a phone call from a very disturbed Jason in his climax, “There is a fucking gnome following me home! I swear to God a fucking gnome!”</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:verdana;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><b> Jason's friends replied, “No man, you're just tripping, keep walking make it home ignore the gnome, don't look back it's not really there.” Jason would not accept the fact that the gnome was a figment of his imagination and eventually the phone call ended without agreement. Jason continued his walk, perpetually leering and dodging into shadows, covering his tracks. Finally he couldn't handle it anymore, the gnome was persistently skulking in his wake, and no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't shake him. In his drug-induced paranoia, he decided to pick the gnome up, both to put an end to the gnome’s pursuit and to prove to his friends of it’s existence. </b></span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:verdana;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><b> Approximately two hours later Jason arrived home at last. He cautiously made his way up the gravel drive and anxiously unlocked the door. His goal was to quietly reach the second floor without dropping the creature or making any noise. Lacking balance he stumbled up the stairs one foot at a time, clutching the gnome. His room felt safe and peaceful. His futon looked inviting, and he embraced the atmosphere. Still high, he decided to securely place the gnome in his closet, but not without proper provisions. He challenged the stairs once more, this time for a bowl of milk. Sketchy and exhausted, he entered his bliss once again, setting the bowl of milk in the closet for his new found friend. </b></span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in; color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-family:verdana;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" ><b> Satisfied, Jason closed the closet door and fell into bed. He woke up late in the afternoon the next day rubbing his stomach, which had extreme gut rot. Ignoring it, he carried on with his morning ritual. While trying to piece together the previous night, he pried himself out of bed, brushed his teeth, and washed his face. He entered into his room again, he laid back on his bed observing his surroundings, simply trying to relax, and scanning his environment he heard something coming from the closet. As he sleuthed, he sensed this would play an essential role to remembering last night's events. He walked taking deep breaths with each footstep until his closet. The curiosity was increasing, Jason was experiencing deja view. Carefully he turned the knob to the door not knowing what he would find. He peeked into the small crevasse slowly pushing the door, little by little. He caught a glimpse of something, something that seemed to be flesh colored. “Shit” he thought to himself. He quickly closed his eyes, “OK...one...two...three” he opened them with hesitance. He gasped! Sitting there in his disbelief was a curled up child! Jason could not comprehend it at all. He contacted the authorities to assess the quandary he was now in. Evidently the child who was currently in Jason's closet was a local child with down syndrome who had been missing, roaming the highway for days. The parents had put out a search party using all of their resources trying to find their boy. The parents were so grateful that they bestowed a large award up on Jason. One would wonder what interlocked this odd pair and caused this chain reaction of random occurrences. Whatever it truly was, it was meant to be. A great payoff for a night he can hardly remember, could life get any better? We didn't think so, ALTHOUGH I STILL HAVEN'T TOLD YOU THE BEST PART OF THE STORY... The bowl of milk was gone.</b></span></p><h3 class="gD" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span email="voltron1111@live.com">By:votham anastasiadis</span></span></h3>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-89579726918304457812009-04-23T14:19:00.002-05:002009-04-23T14:19:50.086-05:00Revenge is sweet...<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">The Scheme</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Today i've formulated a plan to squench the deepest revenge from my earliest youth. I've taken a vow in writing to avenge this wrong, and now i've thought of how i'm going to do it.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">So i have this friend. I've known her since grade one, she lived on my street, we go back, etc. Now one day, me and my friend Adam are walking around what is now the old hood. We were in about grade seven or eight. And we wanted cake. So we went to this friends house, and asked her if she had any. She said:</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">No.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">We said:</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">C'mon. You have cake</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">No.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Yes.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">NO.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">yes...and on and on.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">We waited for a while outside her house to ambush her, but we got bored and went home to have no cake. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">It was only later that we found out about the treachery. As soon as we were out of sight, she went inside and ATE CAKE! I seem to remember some evil laughing on her part.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">So here comes the revenge. We left a not so subtle hint in our student council year book page about collecting with interest. And i've found the interest. She's going to get married one day, odds on for her current boyfriend whom is a friend of mine also and a rad guy to boot.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">When they get married, me and Adam are going to steal the wedding cake. Thus my revenge will be complete. </p>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-50212324141571237752009-04-23T14:18:00.000-05:002009-04-23T14:19:00.321-05:00Sweet 16<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">The Reason I'm Going To Be Left Out Of the Will</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">(The Story of My Sweet 16)</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">I was babysitting at my aunt and uncles one evening, and by chance i see a strange drawing on the fridge. Looking closer, it's me, or a crude drawing thereof (actually, it was a pretty good caricature). It was strange, and i almost walked away, but something drew me closer. It was an invitation to my !6th Birthday. The wheels started turning. I didn't tell my uncle and aunt me knowing. That would have given up my advantage.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">So the day before the surprise, or maybe it was the day of, i unleash the plans on my friends, Dusitn and Adam. It must have been the day of, because i remember they were both taking me out and 'hanging' for a day while the house was getting prepped. I have to admit, it was fun watching them squirm a little everytime i talked about needing to go back home, etc. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Finally i broke the charade, turned to Dustin and said:</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">"So's how about my birthday?"</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Dustin completely froze for a second. I told him i knew the whole thing, and that i had a plan. Dustin would dress in my clothes; a hoody which i had worn specifically for that reason, my shoes, glasses (prescription, and only pair), and pants. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Adam was driving, so he dropped me off at the top of the street, and drove to my house, like he was supposed to. Meanwhile i raced down the back lane in my underwear, without my glasses. I snuck in the backdoor, standing right behind a few members of my family as they watched what they thought was me enter the front door. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">When Dustin got to the front door, my dad was ready with the camera, to take a picture of my surprise face. He got Dustin instead. So while my dad was pumping white hot rage at my friend, i watched from the kitchen. Dustin was desperately trying to explain himself without giving me away, god bless him. And just when someone was about to say something and break the mood, i yell out </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">SURPRISE!!!</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">The party was great, but i don't think my dad ever quite got over it.</p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">n.</p>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-25759057147330711042009-04-23T14:16:00.000-05:002009-04-23T14:17:55.281-05:00Thanksgiving<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Thanksgiving</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">"I was staying over at a girlfriends house for Thanksgiving. Not like her house, but her parents. So i'm sleeping in her room, and she's sleeping on the couch, with the parents placing themselves strategically in between. The Trap was that the bathroom was on the other side of her parents room, so i had to walk past their door, on their creaky floor, to use the bathroom, and probably wake them up. Them being protective of their daughter, i just didn't want to face that interrogation in the morning. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">The rub was that i had drank a lot of beer that evening, and hadn't gone yet. But no way in hell was i walking by that door. So i lift up the window, and start going. I realize that there is a screen there, but it's too late. So i try putting some force behind it to make it through the screen. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">This fails. There is a good amount of backsplash, and it's all over the floor, and dripping on the screen. So i pick up a throw pillow and mop up the mess, which is why i bought her parents a Sham-Wow for christmas. In the morning i went outside and there was a big yellow spot in the snow that i covered with snow. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">That girl is no longer my girlfriend.</p>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-80285198360397187372009-04-23T14:15:00.001-05:002009-04-23T14:15:49.241-05:00Earth Day<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Earth Day</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">What did you do for Earth Day? </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica">Sample responses: " i made love to mother earth" </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"I smoked half as much reefer(?).</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"i didn't dump four gallons of motor oil in the gutter....I also recognized captain planet as a childhood hero."</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"I planted a seed in your sister. Watch it grow!"</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"i reused napkins at work."</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>"Didn't wear clothes and cleaned up garbage.."</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>For Earth Day, I didn't do much in the way of helping use less energy and live cleaner. I did feel guilty about watching tv though. But only cause there was crap on. One friend assumed i had made some kind of plans myself, like i threw a party or something. But i did end up watching the BBC doc. Planet Earth. And it made me realize something.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That something was how eerily like a vast mega computer the earth actually is, that there are patterns in the stampeding Wildabeest, and waterfalls that have no business being there by conventional laws of physics, and other things strange and wonderful that are working in harmony for some greater good. The Hitchhikers Guide was not only incredibly witty and entertaining, but oddly prophetic as well. We are all coming closer as a culture to an understanding that we are a part of the earth, not some alien beings outsourced. We are a part of the program. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The problem with all this earth stuff is that most people can't see the big picture, and that is this; that the earth is infinitely more complex than we are capable of understanding, because we are not in a position to see it all at once, and see how it is all operating at a moment. Which is why i'm not worried about the planet earth, i'm worried about us.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The world was floating around and doing it's calculations long before we arrived on the scene, and will continue to do so. Just like a virus won't make the whole computer spontaneously catch fire, we won't do the same to our planet. In essence that is what we've become; a nice little program that's become a virus. And because we are a virus in such a sophisticated computer engine, the engine is soon going to find a way to get on with it's business without us. Everything we are doing to the environment we are first and foremost doing to ourselves, even if we don't realize it. If we were wiped off the face of the earth, the earth would still be there. So before it's too late, lets make ourselves useful instead of what we have been doing in our ignorance, become more of a hassle than we are worth.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Basically we have to learn how to work with the system, instead of trying to control the system, because in the long run it's going to be the system that wins out.</p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></div>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-64723516277302806542009-04-23T13:08:00.001-05:002009-04-23T13:09:53.472-05:00The Car WashWhen a bunch of naked guys with bonners form 2 lines and spin around in circles and you have to run thru without getting slapped with a wiener.NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-78431466775190483942009-04-21T20:08:00.008-05:002009-04-21T20:30:23.778-05:00Sharks<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family:Arial;font-size:13px;"><div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; "><div style="text-align: center; ">Stay out of the water</div></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255); font-family:Arial;font-size:13px;"><div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; "><div style="clear: both; "></div></div><div class="post-footer" style="margin-top: 0.75em; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 102, 153); text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 0.1em; font: normal normal normal 78%/normal 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.4em; "></div></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Se5xD7SELlI/AAAAAAAAAHE/uzk0XPkE96I/s1600-h/seekcodes_tampon-string-showing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 211px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Je_tSLgZe9A/Se5xD7SELlI/AAAAAAAAAHE/uzk0XPkE96I/s320/seekcodes_tampon-string-showing.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327319721492885074" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">If sharks can smile a drop of blood from a 100 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">metres</span> away, it's no wonder so many people get eaten or bit by sharks at the beach. So Girls for one week a month stay out of the water, for all our sake.</span><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">http://www.swimatyourownrisk.com/2008/08/28/another-shark-bite-at-new-smyrna-2/<br /></div>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-79400756784085269492009-04-14T17:05:00.002-05:002009-04-14T17:54:49.645-05:00The Following is an exert from actual thesis paper:<div><br /></div><div>"Evolutionary Process and it's culmination in city planning and architecture"</div><div><br /></div><div>Life has found footholds in every crevice on our planet. Random mutation is given it's opportunity to thrive only if the habitat is fertile enough to cultivate it, and is specific to the life type. If there is carbon in the atmosphere, then there will evolve a carbon using life form. Life exists in the greatest depths of the ocean and at the highest peaks. In short, life finds a way.</div><div>I propose to develop the evolutionary process to it's logic conclusion in architecture and city planning, and it's effects on mutational patterns in specifically hedgehogs.</div><div><br /></div><div>Environment is so influential in the evolution of species, indeed mutation is a product of environment. Humans are the only species to affect it's own environment on such a grand scale. We have come to design buildings not only for purpose but for beauty as well. And it is through this that we will come to aid evolutionary mutation. Cities in the future will be designed with great swooping structures and various handholds and speed ramps. This will facilitate human vehicles, but will provide a new habitat for a new species to occupy this new environment. </div><div>I predict that new and rapid mutations will occur in the hedgehog sub-species in parallel with advancements and innovations in city planning and architecture.</div><div><br /></div><div>The first arguement in favour of this evolution is...."</div><div><br /></div><div>It goes on.</div><div>n.</div>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-71994236363069302902009-04-09T19:42:00.004-05:002009-04-09T19:48:33.893-05:00GI<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CKUI_f4z4qw/Sd6W4Bs4hKI/AAAAAAAAACo/aYfPB4u_VwU/s1600-h/Gijoes.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Photos by Travis Tait </span></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CKUI_f4z4qw/Sd6W4Bs4hKI/AAAAAAAAACo/aYfPB4u_VwU/s1600-h/Gijoes.jpg">Gi Joes provided by Texas Lee<br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_CKUI_f4z4qw/Sd6W4Bs4hKI/AAAAAAAAACo/aYfPB4u_VwU/s400/Gijoes.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322857698872034466" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CKUI_f4z4qw/Sd6WnIVvDuI/AAAAAAAAACg/Ynz54h1g0ms/s1600-h/Gijoes-3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CKUI_f4z4qw/Sd6WnIVvDuI/AAAAAAAAACg/Ynz54h1g0ms/s400/Gijoes-3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322857408596217570" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CKUI_f4z4qw/Sd6WTXwiWUI/AAAAAAAAACY/pEL7Eg8fc0A/s1600-h/Gijoes-2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_CKUI_f4z4qw/Sd6WTXwiWUI/AAAAAAAAACY/pEL7Eg8fc0A/s400/Gijoes-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322857069137779010" /></a><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-86092556726738734962009-04-08T11:36:00.002-05:002009-04-08T11:43:57.996-05:00I hate downtown<span style="color:#ff0000;">10am:</span> Old guys walks into Don's Photo and says he "PEED" himself. Turns to the door then walks back in looks at me with a smile and says "I just soiled myself" then walks out of the store.<br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">11:30am:</span> Old black guy comes in, no teeth, mubbles some shit to me. Takes off his backpack takes a cooler out, takes a bag out of the cooler, and out of the bag comes a rusted(maybe bloody) set of head trimmers covered in hair and says he bought this here. I told him we sell cameras and he didin't buy it here. He trys to hand it to me to fix. I stepped back to keep a buffer between me and the death clippers. I told him to go to the Bay and bug them.NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-87426840731751906102009-04-01T11:30:00.002-05:002009-04-01T11:33:37.282-05:00Snow BlowApril fools, or Christmas? Snow storm in Arpil, fuck off. Winnipeg is wierd.<br />Lets all get on a boat and follow the flood water until we hit the North Pole, I hear it's nice this time of year.NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-38425403067411646692009-03-29T12:47:00.004-05:002009-03-29T13:13:25.335-05:00MY top fives of good and bad; Stealing canoes is a great canadian pass timeGOOD<div>1. not walking in snow ( smooth walking feels like buttery sex)</div><div>2. naps (fuck yeah i got nothing to do, put buffy the vampire slayer on and sleep)</div><div>3. not paying for food (even though your friend is paying it feels like you're giving the middle finger to the man)</div><div>4. giving the middle finger (so liberating like walking naked down Broadway)</div><div>5. full batteries on my ipod (sorry i ain't talking to you,I'm singing Counting Crows)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>BAD</div><div>1. paying for drugs (legal or not its no fun, to try to have fun)</div><div>2. STDs (seriously nobody needs that shit)</div><div>3. Americans (they think they are so special, whatever dude)</div><div>4. bandannas tied to your wrist (man you look so stupid dude, hurry nickleback is playing)</div><div>5. my impatience (I fucking hate waiting to eat kraft dinner)</div><div><br /></div><div>bonus for good and bad</div><div><br /></div><div>6. hot girls (I'm not into you so don't think you're dope, I'm so into you)</div>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-66105006375455797542009-03-25T11:30:00.002-05:002009-03-25T11:36:49.365-05:00Scams<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33ff33;"><strong>One day i was driving home behind a school bus. We pull up to a stop light, just as the bus starts to roll a kid throws a bottle at my car. I flipped, busted a U-bar and followed the bus. All the kids on the bus were looking out the back at me and i pulled my hand across my neck to show i <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">meant</span> business. They all started to point to the kid who did it. Ya <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">I'm</span> scary! When the bus stopped i talked to the driver and he told me to call the school the next day. I talked to the kids parents and they were more than happy to pay for the dent in my hood. The dent was already there and the kids bottle did nothing to my car. But they didn't know that! $150 for me. Ass <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">whopping</span> for the kid.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;color:#33ff33;"><strong>T-Bagels</strong></span>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-85502662685414175622009-03-24T16:13:00.002-05:002009-03-24T16:20:22.571-05:00Bum-Hole<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">There is this guy i know, we'll call him Ron. Ron has a twisted history. When he was in elementary school he stole another friends stuffed animal, tore a hole in it, and humped it. With the other friend in the room. And he jerked off in class. I think he might have even wiped the spoof on the teachers back. And he would go around and stick his finger in his bum and then put his finger on your mouth. "Bum-hole!" He used to chase kids around and throw bees nests at them. The moral of this story...there is not moral. Just a messed up individual.</span>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-811400848798457114.post-1286034130909630642009-03-22T15:59:00.002-05:002009-03-22T16:12:19.766-05:00The Bride of ChuckyOne weekend (it might have even been a weekday, it was a pretty good summer in that way), we were hanging out on my bus and my friend brought out this girl that he works with. One thing you should know about this guy, is that he has no game. He actually has anti-game. Women want him desperately, but for whatever reason he won't seal the deal. So he has this girl out, and she is pretty naive, so we get into this story about how my other friend and my sister are all actually related because our grandparents had a psychedelic orgy back in the fifties. We were also incestuous, and had to go to IAA (Incestuous Acts Anonymous). And she believed it. We also got her to take off her pants, which she was pretty willing to do. So we were all having a secret laugh about our little joke, and there is Chuck, avoiding eye contact with this girl in her underwear that wants him to lick whip cream off her inner thigh. My sister and friend leave the bus for a bit, and i start reminiscing about how we are each other's uncles and brothers and weaving some twisted and bizarre tale when my sister and friend jump on the hood of the bus and start mock drunk-fuckin enough to shake the whole bus. The girl was more than a little shaken, and i think i suffered a concussion laughing so hard i hit my head on the corner of the bench. And this was before we got into the caesars.<div>n.</div>NUScollectivehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02489308877427177288noreply@blogger.com0