Well, here it is. Exactly 3 years ago, my heterosexual life partner Trevor and myself took the big trip across the ocean to sweet ol' England. There really wasn't any reason to go other than to ride bikes, get drunk, and hang out with our British friends...and that's just what we did. Here are some photos taken during this trip with some captions to let you know what is happening so you don't get confused. ....Here we fucking go:
British people LOVE tourists! Here we visited an ancient Roman bath house and received a seminar about ancient Roman weaponry and an explanation about how impossibly hard it is to swim in chain-mail. "Oh! You're from America! Put on this helmet and hold this sword and shield. Don't forget to visit the gift shop!!!"
This is our friend Clayton at the Roman ruins. Clayton holds the title as the "County long arm champion" 4 years running!
These grotesque get-away-sticks belong to our friend, "Boner" Boner rides bikes and often misses his pedals when he's shreddin' the gnar. When I told him I wanted to take a photo of his disgusting shins he was quick to laugh and yell, "Fuck! These things are nearly healed up, this aint shit!" Know what that means? These are his legs looking their best.
*feels nauseous*
Ah!!! Here we have two fine young ladies! The gal on the left is Boner's girlfriend, the one on the right is Clayton's sister Jo. True story: After a long night of drinking at the pub, Miss Jo decided to bust into the bedroom I was staying in and straight up tried to seduce me. She gave it a good effort but I still had to courteously decline. Sorry girl, but thanks for all the drinks you fed us! She's tops for sure.
Fucksake, I can't remember this guy's name for anything. He's a Turkish gent that works at the chip shop that we frequented nearly everyday. He legitimately thought since we were from the states that we were cowboys and welcomed us every day with an ear shattering "Howdy Podners!!!!!" He was also incredibly insistent that we make the drive to Liverpool to find "best pussy you ever have! Most hottest women, best pussy ever!"
Some hooligan came to this castle and straight up graffitied these tall crystal clear windows with ridiculous mythological characters! Really though, it appears Saint Gabriel is pretty insistent you read the sign to the right. Or he's just directing me to the bathroom, I'm not sure.
Glorious day! I finally get to see a 15th century well! The real kind! The kind that people fall down in and get stuck and have to have food lowered down on a rope to them. Much to my disappointment, no children or witches were stuck in the bottom. Come to think of it, there was no water, LET ALONE alligators in the moats of the castles. England is a lie!!!
This one is for the women. Plain and simple. ;)
It's normal to feel homosexual undertones while looking at this photo, just ignore it.
I've done some cool things in my life...I don't know how I'll ever top dancing like Michael Jackson on a castle bridge over a moat. Actually, I just realized I honestly don't think I'll ever be able to top that....what else is there!? Looks like my suicide note may be my next post on here.
This castle was intense. I can't remember if this is Ludlow or Stokesay and I'm just too lazy to do the research to find out right now. Cigarettes were smoked, a nesting pigeon was found and made fun of, and Trevor was sure to take a piss in one of the colossal rooms of the castle. That is what you call "being good guests"
Don't worry! I'm just having a gag! Along with "being good guests" comes "breaking as many laws as you can in a foreign country." Trevor and I decided to counterfeit some quid and then deface it in front of folk who were none the wiser. Turns out that lighting a fag with a 20 quid note is NOT the best way to make new friends at the pub. Something about a flame coming off of the Queen's prom queen tiara lighting an overpriced British cigarette makes me smile. Take that, your majesty!
Once again with the counterfeit money. Here I shred a 20 pound note early in the mornin' while sipping on a piping hot cup of PG Tips. I'm pretty sure I'm severely hung over in this photo if that justifies this at all.
Kate! That's right, I stayed at none other than KATIE FUCKING LANE'S house while in England. You don't know who that is? I didn't either until I stayed there. Kate (who is our friend Charlie's mother) used to be a big ol' rockstar back in the day. She was married to the famous Ronnie Lane. Ronnie was in the bands "the small faces" (who are said to have laid down the way for the upcoming punk scene that would take over England), the infamous Rod Stewart Band, and then went solo under his own name. Kate joined him in all of his bands as a back-up dancer, musician, and song writer. She also told me the most amazing stories of seeing the Clash play and getting kicked out of a yacht party by Elton John because she was too drunk. Kate likes her wine! Is this where I need to put a link to wikipedia so you can learn a thing or two from this post?
The look of drunken defeat. There is absolutely nothing better than stumbling home to the house you are staying at in the middle of the night in a foreign land. Being drunk and getting lost in a place where you don't even know how to dial their telephones can be a bit overwhelming. You better believe Clayton's parents just relished having two loud, drunk Americans bust into their house in the middle of the night, every night, and eat all their food and drink all their weird juices and sodas. It's alright though, we gave them a "thank you" card before we left.
So there you have it. A small glimpse into my memoirs of trips taken in the past. These photos of course only display a very small portion of the action that was had.
Well, here I am, cheerfully remembering amazing times had 3 years ago. BUT, I still need to get in the shower, mail out a car payment, and help Marissa package up an apple peeler she broke so she can send it in and redeem her warranty.
It's great to be back.
bada bing bada boom
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