Really?

This is a picture of Anthony Trivelli doing what he does best, letting everyone know that he doesn't like something.  Only this time it's actually funny.

Machete.

Close calls.

Keep on knocking.

Flaming volcano.

 

It had to happen sooner or later.

 

 

This guy is back in Philly.

Blurry Bear Paws. 

 Who's airing out their dogs at the bar? Any guesses?

 12 Steps bathroom update.

 

 

Pile up.

Big fan.

Lets hit up some charming shops, lets buy some antiques.

Sky smith.

Nice dad.

Meth.

Winnebago man the movie.

This looks amazing.

Fucking dinosaurs.

Angel of death.

American badass.

Thanks Sean J.

Rage cage.

These guys were getting ready to go to a rave... seriously.

Then this guy passed out on the couch. Nobody even noticed that he pissed his pants, which is weird because he has a huge piss stain running down his leg in every picture.


We weren't sure what to do since nobody even knew the guy and his friend bailed without saying a word. I think we did the right thing.






Field won the award for "most creative" by spitting into a condom and stuffing it into the guy's sweatshirt pocket.





He finally woke up and started puking immediately.


Time to go.

Two handed great sword.

Neighbors.

Our crazy bitch-of-a-neighbor left this note on my roommates car because it had been parked in the same spot for too long. She was actually the one that called the cops after she got caught breaking into the car with a kitchen knife. I think that part of the note only serves to let her lack of sanity really shine. In all honesty, the car was a piece of shit though.

Big Lebowski porn.

Why do i...

Canned heat.

Ah, venison. It's been too long. Thank you D'Angelo Bros.


Our shitty knives weren't doing a damn thing on the frozen roast. Had to go for the hacksaw.


Mixed up some cure and seasoning and let it all sit over night.


Cured for 24 hours. Time to drop it in the can.


I put the venison strips in with some wood chips made from Jack Daniels barrels.

A couple hours later. Venison jerky. The trashcan smoker's second success.

Ghost bustin.

Weed.

Hit the lights.

I tried going to the park, but it was full of assholes playing with devil sticks and hula hoops.


Thom and I found somebody's phone and sent out a few text messages.


Fuckin hate the birdies.

Idoet.

Came up on some ragged dick outside the hardware store.

I found these cards in my house. I have no idea what they're all about.



Yep.

Dipset haiku.

http://dipsethaiku.blogspot.com/