Ok, so there were no fights.
But we did have a moin Barbeque.
Brent hates you.
This freak and his dog's penis hate you.
The tattoo identifies that as Wilson's hand, playfully tickling the sweet little arsehole of said quadruped.
"yeah, he fuckin' loves it"
Kahuna brought along some Mussels, which were steamed, shelled, coated in flour, and then cooked in butter.
Some feet, and some Clitfish.
Other items on the menu included: Sausages
Chicken
aaand some corn(s) and whatnot.
Everything was, as predicted; perfect.
As the evening wore on and the beer set in, the photos got worse, and the creeps came out of their daytime hibernation.
And so, we ate, drank and were merry (no fights) that Friday evening.
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