So here's the pictures for the BBP4, which I had to break into two journal entries cause there's like 60 billion photos involved. First off, I'd like to congratulate everyone on an excellent
attendance and participation effort. Second, I'd like to get some ideas about how we can not be
all tired little pussies next time. I'm STILL fuking beat and it's like four days later. Maybe next
time I should not have a cold, or we should bring speed.






Here you see us gathered on Friday afternoon at the Lir on Boylston.
Clockwise we have Sarah, Cube, me, Goatse, Gothmog, and Bloody. Some other
bitches are here but they hiding.






"Hi, I'm Cube, and vasudeva's tongue is fuking up my romantic moment with my
girlfriend." Fag.






We got assaulted by a chick trying to hype some new beer by Budweiser called
"World Select", which is a crappy name, and it had a crappy label. It tasted
kinda crappy too. Bloody said it remimded him of tomatoes. So we kept
scoring free beers off this chick while we told her what we thought of her
beer. Then she wanted to take some pictures for use in some brochure or ad or
something but we had to promise to hide all the non-Budweiser products for the
shot. We did that, but we didn't hide our middle fingers. I bet she can't
use the picture for anything good now. For those of you keeping track, this
is Goatse, Sister Pissmouth, Gothmog, hed, me, the LBP, bloody, Sarah, and
Cube.






Bloody is like a baby bird waiting for some worms.







After a while marf and meta show up and we all get fancy with the middle finger
again. Look at fuking meta.







No, seriously.







I have no explanation for this.







LBP ATTACK







But then they make up.







Bitches are bullshit. Just kidding.






This was a nice interlude for more salt fun. I had dumped a shaker of it in
Bloody's shirt pocket (always a nice trick, as it humiliates but then empowers
the victim with a personal cache of salt) and he's now handing out his salt to
anyone who'll take it. I say "handing out" when what I mean is rocketing salt
into the face of any sad fuk dumb enough to sit still long enough. I got
lots in my hair and some new salty dandruff on my shoulder. I later popped
meta full in the mouth with a nice handful of salt. I think the bouncers
wanted us to leave.






Nightlife in the big city leaves Kansas happy but bewildered.






GOTHMOG. HE REALLY WHIPS THE LLAMA'S ASS.






I'm getting ready to send a viking spray of liquid at somebody. I think the
bouncers really wanted us to leave.






Oops. I don't really have any human feelings. It's a promise.






Look at fuking cube. Cube, you fag.







All those menstruating, keel over!






You know class when you see it, bitch. Yes? (frans shaking head soulfully.)






Then we left to go find Loki and Tank, who had just arrived, filled to the
brim with happiness at the bad directions they got. ^__^






WHUT.






I decide to attack someone with my umbrella. That's just the way shit works
out sometimes.






This looks sort of like an elaborate attempt to rub my ass on Gothmog and
meta. Sorry boys. (A lie.)






Then we're all very happy and on the T.






So is some old dude.






And so is hed's right tit, which Bloody illustrates for us in case we can't
see it.






Meta demonstrates the sort of chin-up shenanigans that are going to get him in
trouble soon. You'll see.






The Pissmouth sisters hit up Mickey, who has two wierd lumps on his front.






Then meta hits up the famous bronze statue guy with cigar in Quincy Market,
who has wierd lumps in many places.






Then I hit up meta, who has two big red boots on his back. I suspect he's
miming sucking the cock of the bronze creature, but no one brings this kind of
thing up in
polite company.





At the Hong Kong, Scorpion Bowls!






They make Tank happy.






They make me suffocate bitches.






You see?






LOki next to meat on a stick...






LOki surrounding meat on a stick!




Click here for Part 2, bitches.