666monkey

Got rained on most of the day yesterday so the bikes stayed at home shivvering under the clouds. I went out for the BAH3 hash and got penty muddy and bloody running through the woods and bogs near Crofton Park, then ended up running a straight friggin line back on pavement (not my favorite way to fly). At least there was beer at the end and a good time. We named my friend Teresea "Mother Foda"--apparently "foda" means "bad lay" or something like that in some language like Portugese. It couldda been worse, believe me. Came home, soaked in tub, lit incense and candles, did freaky shit, then crashed. Ahhhhh.