We've all been there...

this reminds me of wally at number 2's birthday party at palm springs that i did not go to but figured he looked a little like this.

But Mom, Dad, It's the SAFE way to BREAK AND POP

This kid has got the goods...

To Infinity and Beyond!

Tatters Log: 09-Feb 2010.

I found myself alone in warm in a place that looked a lot like my bedroom. It was strange because it was my bedroom. Confused I shut off the alarm clock which was softly places some Walrus hits and made my way to pile of clothes I laid out to wear on this journey. It took me about 20 minutes to make it my way to the bank for some safety cash that I might need on the arduous journey. The goal? 1350 miles from San Diego to Oklahoma City in one drive, not counting gas.

It wasn't far down the eastbound 8 that i found myself doing an easy 110 miles per hour. It's a pretty smooth road and this pretty much set my pace for the trip, not speed-wise. Heading east around 6:00 AM going 110 miles an hour is one of the worst with to do sporting a pair of polarized Warfarers i soon found out as the 8 was merging with another interstate. Not realizing how slow the two dark figures were going in front of me I found myself going a little harder on the breaks than usual. Picture how hard guys try to put their hands down girls pants after a high school dance; that hard. Luckily there was not a collision. Unlucky however, one of those black figures was one California's finest so unable to stop behind these cares and having to shimmy the Jetta through the traffic, I didn't find it to surprising to see the glaring blue and red lights in the rearview. I wasn't even mad. I realized I fucked up and thought to myself, well, "I haven't gotten a speeding ticket in the 13 years I've been driving; I'm due."

"License and Registration."

Being that I never get pulled over the registration was a new thing for me. As i fumbled through the dash I pulled out a registration from 2006. After he had asked for a more recent one I pulled out the Junior Senior cd and maps of UCSD and found the most current one. I handed them to the man and he went to the squad car and came back with a "less than impressed" look on his face. "Do you know what the speed limit here is?"

"70."

"Do you know how fast i clocked you at?"

"No."

"95."

He had asked where I was going and why I was going so fast and during the conversation I realized the mustache I was sporting was not helping my cause at all. After some light banter and asking me if I had any warrants out for my arrest or had been consuming any alcoholic beverages that night or morning my 95 turned into a 75; which is about the coolest thing I've ever heard of or witnessed, since I'd have to go to court initially, and had he seen me a few miles up the road I would have lost my license right then and there. I took off after that keeping an eye on the speedometer and made sure I didn't go any higher than 5 mph over the limit; which could be attributed to mechanical failures of the radar gun.

Didn't get far until I made a new friend that worked for the border patrol. It was a routine stop asking where i was going. Expecting a short conversation, much like the car before me, i answered "Oklahoma City" when he had asked where I was going. It was right around this time i found a German Sheppard running hysterically to my car. It was like this dog was on speed, which is surprising since it was a narcotics dog. It raced around the car a few times going ape shit and I thought to myself, "I don't have any drugs but with this goddamn mustache, who would believe me" and looked puzzled at the border officer told me to go on my way. Apparently all drug dogs are hyperactive.

I dunno how many of you smooth operators drive across the US but I'll tell ya, it is a pain the the hole. There isn't much in the terms of landscape in the first part of the trip however was completely taken from the views of Flagstaff, which also, I found my first snowfall. It wasn't heavy snow, just enough to tense me up a bit and the views were outstanding, driving up to elevation of 7000+ feet I was totally taken away by the mountain scape; truly fantastic.

After that I made my way through New Mexico which was not short of it natural beauty. This natural beauty came to an end right around the time the sun went down. Now, if there's two things people know about me it's A.) I hate driving or perhaps B.) I hate driving at night or perhaps a third secret is that I fucking hate semi's!!! So you could imagine my demeanor when I found myself in this particular situation stated below:


1.) Driving at night
2.) On a 2-lane highway
3.) In New Fucking Mexico
4.) Surrounded my semis
5.) Alone
6.) On a road that has no highway lights
7.) And no reflectors on the road
8.) In the fog

The thing about semis is this. Semi's to my knowledge do not have cruise control so every time they go up a hill, they slow down. Conversely, when they go down a hill they speed up. When it's straight they go the speed limit. I have a natural fear of semi's. I always felt like that would be my end; getting into an accident with a semi. This was a very hilly road, the I-40. So the speeds on the semi's were very wide in range and the occurrence was high. Mama didn't raise no fool. I'm one of those guy who takes his left hand and touches a counter top and it is cool, I'll touch the refrigerators and it is also cold. If I touch a stove with my left hand and burn it, I don't touch it with my right hand to see if my left hand is wrong.

So it was right around one of this hills i found myself passing this slow semi and the hill ended and we leveled out going the same speed. Uncomfortable with the situation I had hope he'd speed up or slow down but this was as fruitless at Rice Krispies. I, taking the man route, decides to accelerate past him to leave the passing lane open, rather than drop back 100 feet behind the three semis, two of which i had passed on the hill. This was not the correct idea, no matter how good and logical it may sound. So unlike before, I was surprised to see the red and blues in the rearview moments later.

The man asked for my license and registration and puzzled I gave it to him. He had asked if there was a reason i was going 83 in a 75. I told him there was and explained the situation verbatim as stated above. He went back to the squad car and came back with a ticket. At this stage I took the ticket from him and took off. This exact situation happened multiple time since. But this time i wasn't falling for it and after driving neck and neck with semi for miles, eventually another hill would come and i would pass them, then that hill would end and go down and he would pass me. And so on. Whatever. It just seems stupid that i get a ticket for going 110 almost INTO a cop and get a 5 mph ticket and i play by the "rules" and get a 7 mph ticket. Does this seems stupid to anyone else? God, I love California.

So that was New Mexico. I went on further, not exceeding the speed limit the rest of the way, no matter how dickheaded the situation made me.

I made it to Oklahoma City after 21 hours at 4:30 AM in the morning local time...when i left 5:30 local time. So let's crunch the numbers

2.
0.
80.


2 speeding tickets
0 meals
80 oz of Sugarfree Rockstar

End Transmission.

Plummer and Dos

who wants to be the pied piper?

You know I'm going to have to run now... right?

OK... So I've put this off long enough. The address for this site is arrestednaked, so it's time I talk about how our beloved blog got its name.

A couple years ago I was celebrating my friend Joe's 21st birthday with him. I believe he and I were the last ones at the bar. We were shiiiiitcanned, but I persuaded the bartender to give us one more shot on behalf of Joe's birthday. He gave us a pine tree. I should have known what it was from the name... it was straight gin. I effing hate gin. If I were dying of thirst and I was offered gin, I would sooner die. Anyway, I blame the following story on that last shot...

Joe and I leave the bar, which was just off campus, and head back to our apartments on campus. On the way home, I realize that it's my last semester (or should have been) and I had never gone skinny-dipping in the reflection pond. I think it's necessary to do that before you graduate Clemson. No shit, I think it goes on your transcripts. I can't remember if Joe was for it or against it as I was a little fuzzy at the time, but we went for it.

So off we go into the reflection pond. We swim around for a while, good times. We're pretty much cracking up. I remember thinking "this was a really good idea!" If there's one thing I've learned from all of my drinking, it's that when I say that drunk, it's really not. Our pleasant swim is interrupted by a security guard at the library that overlooks the pond. He tells us to get out of there, we oblige. Then I had another really good idea. Instead of putting my clothes back on, I was going to streak across campus back home (even though i HAD done that before). And by streak, I mean casually walk with Joe.

We make it about halfway home without much ado besides me playfully chasing a couple of girls that were also taking a drunken stroll home. They were not naked. Sadly. Then a... we'll say ample... female security guard calls out to us.

"Hey, you... um, COME HERE!"

I look back surprised and point at myself, a puzzled look on my face like I don't actually know who she's talking to... Me? Joe? Joe? Me? She is not amused.

I stroll up to her, as casually as I had been walking with Joe, wearing a drunken smile, half-closed eyes, and little else. "Yeah, what's up?"

"What are you... why don't you have your clothes on? You... you know I'm gonna have to call the cops now, right?"

I look at her... weigh my options (kind of)... and decide on my reply.
"You... know I'm gonna have to run now... right???"

Right there, in all my glory, I strike a Heisman... my clothes as my football, my pose as the stupidest person in intramural college football. I bolt.

I'm fairly close to home, so I feel I have a good shot at making it. I hit Cherry road, one of the streets that partitions actual campus from the on-campus apartments, and in the corner of my eye there are two cop cars with their lights flashing coming up on me quick. I get across the street, and instead of taking the stairs, i hop over a little brick wall and run down a hill into the apartment area where I lived. If I had any sense at all, I would have run home or to Plumazing's apartment, both of which were nearby. But I had no sense at all. The cops are chasing me, although they're fat and slow. I run down the next hill (Clemson's in the hills, yeah boooyyyy!) One of the cops falls down the hill. It's hilarious. I'm still running, but I have a hard time running and laughing, so I actually trip up, too. Showing INCREDIBLE coordination for being as intoxicated as I was, I roll through a somersault back into a full-blown run. Didn't miss a beat. I'm still waiting for the Espy. I get to the other side of this mini-valley and start running up the stairs, but two more cop cars converge on the on the other side.

Shit. Apparently, cops have walky-talkies. Apparently, with four units on my case, the cops in Clemson have little else to do on a Tuesday night except chase naked men around campus. Apparently, Gay. I tried to run into a little wooded area to my left, but I get tripped up pretty quickly (this was a bad idea... i later had poison ivy ON MY ASS). I'm effed in the A, so I throw my hands up and admit to all the cops that "I'm retarded." They were gracious enough to let me put my clothes back on before they cuffed me. Thanks...

On the way to the car, the adrenaline gave me the chance to think clearly if only for a second... I wonder if I'm gonna be charged with indecent exposure. I didn't exactly want to be labeled a sex offender, so I ask...
"So... what am I being charged with?"

I guess I wasn't thinking TOO clearly in the way I asked. The cop busted out laughing and says to all his buddies...
"HA! The kid wants to know why he's being arrested."

Sigh... shit.

So that's my story. Striking a Heisman in the middle of campus, fully nude, was either the low point or the high point of my college career. Over three years later, I still haven't decided which...

This is a really good idea...

Wanna know how to tell if something is a really bad idea when you're drunk?

Let's see how long this lasts.

Friends, bring it on.