Teen Choice Awards Gone Horribly Wrong.

I'm getting ready to ship off to Canada for the next four days, and running around like a marmoset with gastrointestinal distress (feel free to use that one), so I was glad to find two interesting photo submissions when I checked my email this morning. I count on my friends for content when I'm not feeling especially creative - and they always come through. Because they're all f*cked.

On the left we have the illustrious Mr. Cornett - kicking it, as he does every year, at the Indy 500. Kicking the shakes and hallucinations after Indy weekend - is another story. My own father also has an interesting Indy drinking story, but he'll kick my ass if I post that here... so I'll stick to C-Diddy for the moment. Why is this model wearing a wetsuit you ask? You try standing near Chris after he's had half a 30 pack of Genessee Cream Ale and all will be revealed.



And on the right, a blog favorite - Gazza. The only human being even more narcissistic than myself. Gaz attended the Teen Choice Awards earlier this week, and had a friend snap this photo when a particularly interesting presenter took to the stage. Yes folks, that's Leatherface from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre on the screen in the background. I haven't heard from Gary recently, and I have a sneaking suspicion that in the next Texas Chainsaw Massacre sequel, Leatherface's mask will be sporting a stripper pubic landing strip on it's chin.

I'll check in from my parent's trailer's 56k dialup (I wish I was kidding. But at least they don't have an outhouse. Oh wait. Yes they do.) over the weekend sometime in between JetSki runs. Stay real.