Return of the Red Ninja II: Ninja Goes to Camp
Coming back to work sucks. The only way it wouldn't suck is if I actually was the Red Ninja and my next mission was to assassinate the sanctity of your mom's ass. But believe me, what I have to come back to is nowhere near as cool as that. I won't bore you with details, but rest assured it involves a lot of film featuring many angular men shaving. I'll let you take that wherever you want.
The trip home was refreshing. Last time I was there, I spent the whole time bitching about how much it sucked compared to where I live now. Since I quickly realized that only people who need to get slapped do shit like that, I decided to enjoy the tinder-dry state of Colorado for what it had to offer. After a few hours of trying really hard not to notice that my home town is full of white Protestants that are a pointy hat away from burning my parents house down, I decided to rely on friends and family for entertainment.
My Dad was a big help in making me feel welcome, especially considering he's the one I get my taste for bad movies from. If at any time during the last week you sensed a disturnbance in the force of balance, it was probably caused by the record amounts of robots, gunfighters, and Ray Harryhausen monsters being shown on our TV. Of course this sort of alientated my younger brother since he thinks those movies have "fucking gay special effects yo."
My friends were mostly lame. Those that made the effort to spend time with me know who they are. Those that didn't will probably never even know that they suffer from a terminal case of fucking weak. I had an especially good time with my friend John as we rode around in my PT Cruiser rental (America's modern clown car) blasting Fannypack. The only thing that made that situation not rad was my inability to get drunk and dump myself off on a train with nothing but blind hope that I'd wake up in my own bed the next morning. I actually had to be responsible and shit, dog.
To give you an idea of how good a time my brother had, just read his "I went to Colorado and all I got was epilepsy" t-shirt. Apparently he's had it for awhile, but we didn't know until I got a call from Officer Lash the day before we left telling me that my brother fell flat on his face in the middle of the street and started convulsing like that guy from the 911 is a Joke video. He didn't actually say that, but that's totally how I pictured it. And I totally sing 911 is a Joke whenever epilepsy comes up with my brother. It's hilarious.
I know everyone was hoping that I spent my vacation getting caught climbing sorority house trellices wearing nothing but a ninja mask while miraculously taking pictures of the whole ordeal, but I went to Colorado to get away from all of that for awhile. In fact, the only evidence that I went at all are some fucking awesome karate glamour shots of my brothers and I that I snagged from my parents. Look for those soon.
Coming back to work sucks. The only way it wouldn't suck is if I actually was the Red Ninja and my next mission was to assassinate the sanctity of your mom's ass. But believe me, what I have to come back to is nowhere near as cool as that. I won't bore you with details, but rest assured it involves a lot of film featuring many angular men shaving. I'll let you take that wherever you want.
The trip home was refreshing. Last time I was there, I spent the whole time bitching about how much it sucked compared to where I live now. Since I quickly realized that only people who need to get slapped do shit like that, I decided to enjoy the tinder-dry state of Colorado for what it had to offer. After a few hours of trying really hard not to notice that my home town is full of white Protestants that are a pointy hat away from burning my parents house down, I decided to rely on friends and family for entertainment.
My Dad was a big help in making me feel welcome, especially considering he's the one I get my taste for bad movies from. If at any time during the last week you sensed a disturnbance in the force of balance, it was probably caused by the record amounts of robots, gunfighters, and Ray Harryhausen monsters being shown on our TV. Of course this sort of alientated my younger brother since he thinks those movies have "fucking gay special effects yo."
My friends were mostly lame. Those that made the effort to spend time with me know who they are. Those that didn't will probably never even know that they suffer from a terminal case of fucking weak. I had an especially good time with my friend John as we rode around in my PT Cruiser rental (America's modern clown car) blasting Fannypack. The only thing that made that situation not rad was my inability to get drunk and dump myself off on a train with nothing but blind hope that I'd wake up in my own bed the next morning. I actually had to be responsible and shit, dog.
To give you an idea of how good a time my brother had, just read his "I went to Colorado and all I got was epilepsy" t-shirt. Apparently he's had it for awhile, but we didn't know until I got a call from Officer Lash the day before we left telling me that my brother fell flat on his face in the middle of the street and started convulsing like that guy from the 911 is a Joke video. He didn't actually say that, but that's totally how I pictured it. And I totally sing 911 is a Joke whenever epilepsy comes up with my brother. It's hilarious.
I know everyone was hoping that I spent my vacation getting caught climbing sorority house trellices wearing nothing but a ninja mask while miraculously taking pictures of the whole ordeal, but I went to Colorado to get away from all of that for awhile. In fact, the only evidence that I went at all are some fucking awesome karate glamour shots of my brothers and I that I snagged from my parents. Look for those soon.
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Don't tell.