Strove to find a way to punch people in the face by using the Internet.



This is Dave. He plays bass for a punk-rock band called
Grabass Charlestons. Today is Dave's birthday, and we're having a party.

Dave likes pinball a lot, so sometimes people call him "Replay." Dave also used to live under a staircase. No word if he ever used that opportunity to hassle the Three Billy Goats Gruff.

Jesus... He looks like a cross between Long John Silver and a fruit salad.

Sam: "Dude, your flash didn't go off."
Me: "Sam, I don't know if you noticed, but it's so fucking hot and bright out today that we might as well be on the surface of the damn sun."
Sam: "...Dude. I'm... Really high."

Photo tip of the day: accidentally smearing artichoke dip on your camera results in some very cool effects, evocative of Penthouse magazine circa 1974. Only without all the vaginas.

Aaron takes a ride on the emotional rollercoaster.


You see? You see what happens when you kids get into one of your sangria chugging contests? Unbelievable.

The doctors say that if Meghan responds well to the new medication they're going to let her start riding the long bus to school.

Hmmm, you don't say... I'd rather be smashing up hippies with an axe handle myself.

I don't think you're supposed to put gin in sangria, but whatever. I reckon when you're wasted at 3:00 in the afternoon the rules are gonna get bent a little.

Nice try dude, but I told you she already has a boyfriend.


Heather was very moved by the movie Napoleon Dynamite, and chooses to express these feelings through interpretive dance.

Keith, an oasis of sanity in an otherwise mad, mad world.

Oh dear.

By the way, that thing Thea is sticking in Dave's ear is one of those wretched tofu dogs. Seriously, how can anyone eat those fucking things? Even with a palate damaged by veganism or other such hippie-ness. Tofu dogs exhibit more traits associated with crayons than any kind of actual food. Brrr.


Alright, another pinata! Once again, I ask you: punk rockers + booze + stick + blindfold... What could possibly go wrong?

Well, Dave could get totally mixed up and smash the shit out of a harmless fence, for one.

Harmless fence, Dave. Harmless.

For shame.

The blindfold midget death battle commences. My money's on the broad.


Best Socks award goes to Buddy.

Best Spuds MacKenzie Tattoo award goes to Uri.

...Wait a minute. What the fuck?

Ann mixin' up some foul potion for Dave to drink, because it's apparently some kind of tradition to force the birthday boy to drink something totally, totally gross.

I reckon he's had worse stuff in his mouth. Shit, did you see Heather smoke that cigarette with her dirty foot? This is nothing.


Cockfighting, midget death-battle fighting, gross birthday potions, boozing it up all day in the backyard... Southern Tradition indeed.

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