You’re Invited

Follow along Jonny College Student. With the help of, you can bump up the excitement level of your average tailgate. Go from this

to this

to this

Introducing the first ever pre-tailgate wine sampling. Join the gang Saturday morning for this unprecedented affair. Details to follow.

Boy Band

All that remains now is our name (I was thinking 4-sure…but there are five of us) and a shit load of meterosexualizing. Ain’t no lie, baby bye bye bye…Bye Bye

Opening Tailgate

This Saturday marked the Montana State Fighting Bobcat’s home opener. The MSU grounds crew has provided the Cats with a terrific playing surface this season…unbeknownst to most alum and practically all coeds in attendance, Grif and Steve Sampson included.

To those nonattendees, the game is secondary to parking lot drinking…in fact, the game is often only evident when the cannon is torched after a touchdown. Pink, personalized Bubba Keg’s full of hops, skips, and goes, naked for some…Pabst Blue Ribbon for others. Interesting day, though. While I was putting together a wiring harness for my Yukon, Grif and Biddy were putting 30 Busch Lights in a cooler with Country Time and vodka. Gross…I do my best to avoid ingesting all three of those. A few hours elapse and my work flatbed trailer is the place to be for a few dozen hard drinking dudes and dudettes. Feel free to join us in two weeks. I don’t imagine we will have grown up by then.

For Sale

Tell a friend…this beast is on the market. 1992 K5 Blazer appx. 142 thousand miles, 4×4, auto everything.

Unfortuanately, this whip has no engine. Make me an offer. Oh, yeah…I forgot to mention that this vehicle is equiped with tilt.

Joe’s Kindred Spirit

Okay…one more obscure post before Grif and I tear it up. So my boss and I are waiting in line at Boondoggles (gas station sandwich shop…I love grinders, subs, dagwoods, whatever) when I spot a real dude wearing the same shoes as I. This may be commonplace for some readers; this is a first for me. See, I have for the past two odd years been purchasing disposable footwear in the form of *-Mart velcro shoes. Under five dollers per unit and surprisingly comfortable. Example:

I also name my velcs…I christened this particular model the Buzzer Beaters. Past pairs incluce the Game Times, Triple Doubles, and Ally-oops.

Weekend Results

I am writing this post with a sore toe. Dehydration, stress, and Johnny Carino’s house merlot seem to have onset my gout. For those of you who are under fifty years of age and have better genetic code than the Swanson clan, gout is a form of arthritis that affects me from time to time. It is essentially a buildup of uric acid in my synovial fluid, that crystalizes and becomes painful as all hell. Hundreds of milligrams of ibuprofen and a few gallons of water later, I hope to have this thing knocked down by tomorrow. Who knows though. The combination of my two jobs keeps me sweating for approximately seventy hours per week…add in the fact that I have been trying to get pre-approved for a loan and have been dealing with Bozeman PD in lieu of a fight in the Legion Friday and it is no mystery why I am having an attack. To make matters worse, I swing the Yukon into a Wall Mart parking space reserved for senior citizens and receive a nice little condescending note from an anonymous do-gooder. Thank you for that. I am not retarded, I am disabled…right Grif?

For the Kids!

Well. I feel bad 🙁 about the crass content of that last post. Let us all loosen up a bit. Are you ready kids???

🙂 Heyyy!!!! :)It’s Louie Anderson! :)What a funny dude?!!! ;)Do you kids like roulette???
I took this photo early in the morning after losing quite a sum of money on the roulette table in Las Vegas a while back. Unfortunatly, I was not able to meet Louie in person. 🙁

Sandwich Outing

Hey y’all. Quick disclaimer. I have no intentions of turning into a site wherein I publish photos of those whom I feel that I am better than. See, I just ended a sentence in a preposition; I am not without my flaws. Check this out though…as a youngster I wore my hair in the same manor as Ryne Sandburg, so I do understand that children are both impressionable and blind to their outward appearance. This is assinine, however.

I wore hockey hair, so did Ryno. I traded in my do for a more contemporary cut when Sandburg let me know it was time. I never, however, dressed like my grandmother. Give me a fucking break fellas. Moreover, there are two of you. You guys are telling me that you piled into a sedan unaware of the fact that you looked like your brother, let alone that you were dressed identical to your grandma…thumbs down. Swanny

Week in Review

What an interesting week in photos. I am amused for sure, but too feel slightly uneasy at the sights captured by my cellie cam. Check these out; chant some AC/DC.

Monday morning. I spot this hard-rocker hard-rockin’ an agressive mullet. You cannot see the yellow mirrored lenses on this hombre’s Gargoyles, but you can imagine.
TNT! oy oy oy…TNT! oy oy oy …TNT! oy oy oy…

Tuesday afternoon. This chick has potential. Purple stretch pants…a plus in my book. Athleticism? Youbetcha. Her abnormality lies in the fact that she is smoking two cigs at once. Go easy my friend.

This guy can go to hell. Wednesday finds this dude with a NateDawg Bozo Fro bitching about my skid-steer’s noisiness. You work construction homeboy. Nice overalls…check out the Carhartt sale at Murdoch’s…you can purchase a slightly irregular pair of those bibs for a fraction of their MSRP

Thursday afternoon. Hi. I deliver plants. My moustache is sweet. Sweet too are my cowboy boots. I also enjoy wearing t-shirts depicting cartoon characters. ~that is Wylie Coyote~ Also, I am a grown man.

Later Thursday. Six o’ clock, sixer of Bud. Workin for the weekend and then TGIF for this guy. Mullet with a sweet goatee. TNT! oy oy oy…

Two pi radians. See how things have come full circle? oy

Meet the Reverend

So here he is. My unofficial mascot, friend, and partner in crime…The Reverend Owl Sharpton.


Owl and I go back some deal of time. We crossed paths one fair Fall evening in Bozeman proper. See the cottonwoods dropping leaves a yellow; smell the crispening air. See me cutting a wide swath through a back yard; smell the flat Rainier spilling from my bottle. Now you’re getting there. I may or may not have had both shoes on. Anyhow, one misdemeanor later and this badass and I have been teaming up and hitting the roads with heads of steam since ’02. And ‘0 the memories…Butte America, Glendo, Vegas, Havasu, Chicago and every burg betwixt have experienced our shenanigans. I do not know if the Reverend is in fact Irish, and frankly I am somewhat afraid to ask. I do know he got the hat from a motorized yard flamingo…that much is certain. Check the gallery for a few of his documented outings. Not only is the son of a bitch wise, but he is elusive to boot. Now feed that pheasant.