Tank looking for another scorpion bowl to fuk up whilst I do a helpful jig. We had
like six bowls for about 8 or 10 people; they were gone within minutes. They
do their fuking job, y0.






They make me want to felch LOki's mouth, for example.






And they make meta warlike.






And they make marf sing showtunes to beers.






And they make Hed go into Jawa mode.






Ew, and they make people make out.






I can't tell you exactly what's going on here, but around this time, I spied
Gothmog hitting on some bitches. Only, I didn't think he was hitting on some
bitches as much as smalltalking three old ladies. They were young and
apparently hot and I was evidently too drunk to realize this, so in my finest
wingman mode I cheerfully march up and inform them all in a businesslike
manner that Gothmog has the HIVs. They fuking peaced out in like a minute flat. I
suppose it didn't help that he was sporting that Vegas concrete-impact wound, which
a curious female may just figure is an AIDS lesion. Sorry dude. ^__^ I swear I didn't
know you were trying to pull.

Then LOki bought hed the one shot she swore would put her in rocking-out mode.
I think it did make her rock out, until we got off the T and she barfed all
the fuk up.






But not before I pantsed meta on the T. This is meta recovering from showing his dick
to a bunch of Bostonian strangers. This is why you don't hang around doing chinups
on the T. We were tossing socks on the other sleeping passengers. That's why
you don't sleep on the T.






First recorded wearing of the BATTEL HAT this BBP. Hed got nominated for
barfing first.






Hotel now. Everyone very drunk. Hed recovered from puke and back to rocking
out. I'm going to sleep along with the other pussies.






Yo, check out the drunkface on the LBP.






I had brought a Sharpie just for petey-eying fun and made the stupid mistake of letting
on I had it. Then I stupidly fall asleep in a room full of drunk bastards and
this is what happens to my feet. Those little smiley dudes sure are cute on
my toes. Only the big toes gets a nose, apparently. This shit didn't come
off for like 3 days.






Wake up, jackass, you're getting nigered.







This is what my own girlfriend does to me.






"LINKSWARM.COM MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND HART 2004 HART"






They got Tank, too. In fact, I dunno if anyone ever told him. Your eyes are
supposed to follow those arrows up into heaven.





Bloody gets sharpied. Rock. They were going to do more, but he kept waking
up.






LOki gets crafty and petey-eyes meta while he's awake. This story sort
of has to be heard to be believed.






So then we wake up and have a cookout thing at cube's, along with his gigantic
two-foot dildo (no joke), none of which I seem to have pictures of, strangely.
We were all a little beat, but this didn't stop us from going to King's, where
you can drink and bowl and get a nice pulled-pork pizza.






And fukingben, AKA lutefisk, shows up and makes meta sing his praises. What
you see here is sort of a visual metaphor for something meta has wanted to do
for fukingben for a long, long time. I can't say this ever really happened,
but then, I went to sleep early.






And gothmog gets crazyfresh with the linkswarm sign.






Fukingben makes himself wet. Lute looks like some sort of iced-out rapper here.






So part of the coolness of the BBP4 was that a certain elite few of you dudes
emailed me money for the BBP4 Booze Fund, which I thought was incredibly
decent of you. I wanted to do something in return and had printed out your
avatars but couldn't think of anything non-gay, until Bloody came up with the
idea of having you there virtually through the power of photo trickery. So
here we have, from left to right, me, Bloody, Goatse, hed, some random
waitress, Cube, LBP, Gothmog, Beachgoat, meta, fl_projekt AKA fishpuncher,
Sister Pissmouth, marf, Tank, Loki, and fukingben.

This round was brought to
you by Beachgoat's and fishp's donation to the fund ($20 and $50,
respectively, which I find fuking awesome) and basic all-around
coolness.

Unfortunately, Brother Mundhra had pledged $50 to the fund, but then never
actually did so, so I had to do noxious things like check my email to see if PayPal
was emailing me money and whatnot, and also things like call him at midnight at this
bar and get his voice mail and leave a 5-minute group message on just what brand
of cunt he is, etc.

So here's your avatar, g.






PALS.JPG'D!!!111!!






Then we did some bowling. Or some of us did, and some of us did something
else which I can't remember much of but my part of it involved fuking up tank's
throws and also rubbing my balls on cube's arm. Or so he tells me.






Then we went to this godawful diner -- South Street Diner. Don't do it.
Don't ever do it. This place was just jamfuked. The less said about this,
the better. The LBP almost got into some kind of fight with a chick and two
dudes who wished they were chicks outside. I puked after the cab-ride home
and LOki came to watch, and he can attest to its startling luminescence. I
think it was sort of a very minor holy moment for the both of us and we stood
there checking it out for a bit after it left my insides. Then we went inside
and laid down and then LOki farted in the hotelroom and I jumped on him with
both feet for farting.






Then, Jesus, somehow it's already Sunday and Bloody and Hed and Tank have left
and marf and meta are off cleansing and napping with glacierlike speed so we
go to the park. It's a very bright and sunny day, and pretty, if you like
that sort of thing.






Then we saw a fake meta. This guy looked just like meta. It was uncanny. We
all spent like two full minutes checking him out to see if it was him, cause
he was supposed to meet us there and this guy walked just like someone from
Kansas looking for peeps in a huge park, and I could see meta wearing a shirt
like this. But it turned out not to be him.






This is me, fulfilling the personal rule I seem to operate by which dictates I
have to look disgruntled in 9 out of 10 photos. Me and Goth are both wearing
science t-shirts which I suppose makes us both kinda gay. This bar sucked.
It's called Solas and is on Boylston and sucks enough that I feel I have to
mention it twice. By this point we're tired and hungover and kinda cranky and
this place didn't help much. From here we went on to have dinner and creep
around Boston and meta left and most of us went back to the hotelroom early.

Unfortunately for the visual tone of this post, that sad-ass looking picture
of me up there seems to be the last time my camera got used, for some lame
reason, so I'll finish with a picture of Mundhra's glory one more time.






PALS.JPG'D!!!111!!

I still love you, gangster. But you better show up to the next BBP or there will be
some rapekilling the likes of which this planet has never seen.



All right, boys and girls. That's all I got. Marf has a few and meta has none because bitch
kept forgetting his camera. I'll have a gallery up of all my pictures later, for the truly committed.