Tijuana is famous for "donkey shows". Mr Poncier is speculating this is a story stemming from a Peyote laced bus trip to Mexico. We are all anxiously awaiting the truth from UD.
What speculation, I was driving the bus.
I hate that you were fired for not wearing pants. Well, it was the 80's after all...
I know...I mean I was wearing my mesh shirt and neon hi tops, what more did they want.
Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14
1. I have never been to Mexico
ii: I know better to go anywhere in a vehicle driven by Poncier (it's a document fact that large pet birds are responsible for 74% of all traffic accidents)
c) I never ride in the back of a bus due to my carsickness
Okay, the donkey story starts with me, age 12, on a summer visit to Ireland.
Setting: My uncle's farm on a hill overlooking the Aran Islands.
1. I have never been to Mexico
ii: I know better to go anywhere in a vehicle driven by Poncier (it's a document fact that large pet birds are responsible for 74% of all traffic accidents)
c) I never ride in the back of a bus due to my carsickness
Okay, the donkey story starts with me, age 12, on a summer visit to Ireland.
Setting: My uncle's farm on a hill overlooking the Aran Islands.
Perhaps this story is worse than anyone imagined...
as you can see, i'm very confused as to what is happening here
best i can gather, unlost went to Ireland as a child and was driven around the emerald isle by poncier the demented clown bus driver..scared of poncier, she exited the bus and flagged down the nearest pink donkey and rode it to salvation
as you can see, i'm very confused as to what is happening here
best i can gather, unlost went to Ireland as a child and was driven around the emerald isle by poncier the demented clown bus driver..scared of poncier, she exited the bus and flagged down the nearest pink donkey and rode it to salvation
am i close? :think:
Oh, so very close Norm _ you nailed it right up until you said the donkey was pink.
She was brownish gray. Standard Irish donkey color.
as you can see, i'm very confused as to what is happening here
best i can gather, unlost went to Ireland as a child and was driven around the emerald isle by poncier the demented clown bus driver..scared of poncier, she exited the bus and flagged down the nearest pink donkey and rode it to salvation
am i close? :think:
Oh, so very close Norm _ you nailed it right up until you said the donkey was pink.
She was brownish gray. Standard Irish donkey color.
Are you sure?
Peyote is the stage name of this clown:
And he was sure smiling after leaving you at the back of the bus (until I told him he had to clean up your vomit, you really should avoid the back of the bus with that carsickness issue).
Are you sure?
Peyote is the stage name of this clown:
And he was sure smiling after leaving you at the back of the bus (until I told him he had to clean up your vomit, you really should avoid the back of the bus with that carsickness issue).
Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14
*pointedly ignores Poncier's post because he knows that not only would I not ride at the back of the bus, but also I have a deeply-rooted fear of clowns which makes any clown interaction quite impossible*
So, in this story I am 12, in Ireland for the summer, visiting family on a hillside farm overlooking the Aran Islands: Inishmore, Inishmaan, and Inishshit. They're quite beautiful islands, inhabited by friendly gnomes who speak an archaic dialect of Orc.
Author's note: I've never actually been to the Aran Islands, but I saw part of a Rick Steves special about them, or maybe it was one of them, so I'm somewhat of an expert on the matter. It might have been the Guernsey Islands or possibly Crete in the Rick Steves special, I'm not really sure.
Anyway, the family who lived on this farm raised dairy cows. Those are cows that are used to make ice cream and also milk.
The family did not have a car, but they had a tractor. My uncle and aunt would milk the cows in the morning and again in the evening, or maybe it was just the evening. At any rate, they would put the milk into giant cans that went on a trailer that was pulled by the tractor driven by my uncle to the place where they put the milk into containers with missing children on them.
There are other steps involved between squeezing the cow's udders _ which, by the way put me off milk for quite a long time _ and the container with the missing kids. I don't know what those steps are, though.
*pointedly ignores Poncier's post because he knows that not only would I not ride at the back of the bus, but also I have a deeply-rooted fear of clowns which makes any clown interaction quite impossible*
So, in this story I am 12, in Ireland for the summer, visiting family on a hillside farm overlooking the Aran Islands: Inishmore, Inishmaan, and Inishshit. They're quite beautiful islands, inhabited by friendly gnomes who speak an archaic dialect of Orc.
Author's note: I've never actually been to the Aran Islands, but I saw part of a Rick Steves special about them, or maybe it was one of them, so I'm somewhat of an expert on the matter. It might have been the Guernsey Islands or possibly Crete in the Rick Steves special, I'm not really sure.
Anyway, the family who lived on this farm raised dairy cows. Those are cows that are used to make ice cream and also milk.
The family did not have a car, but they had a tractor. My uncle and aunt would milk the cows in the morning and again in the evening, or maybe it was just the evening. At any rate, they would put the milk into giant cans that went on a trailer that was pulled by the tractor driven by my uncle to the place where they put the milk into containers with missing children on them.
There are other steps involved between squeezing the cow's udders _ which, by the way put me off milk for quite a long time _ and the container with the missing kids. I don't know what those steps are, though.
So this is where the tractor comes in. Uh huh. uh huh..... We're listening....
Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14
*pointedly ignores Poncier's post because he knows that not only would I not ride at the back of the bus, but also I have a deeply-rooted fear of clowns which makes any clown interaction quite impossible*
So, in this story I am 12, in Ireland for the summer, visiting family on a hillside farm overlooking the Aran Islands: Inishmore, Inishmaan, and Inishshit. They're quite beautiful islands, inhabited by friendly gnomes who speak an archaic dialect of Orc.
Author's note: I've never actually been to the Aran Islands, but I saw part of a Rick Steves special about them, or maybe it was one of them, so I'm somewhat of an expert on the matter. It might have been the Guernsey Islands or possibly Crete in the Rick Steves special, I'm not really sure.
Anyway, the family who lived on this farm raised dairy cows. Those are cows that are used to make ice cream and also milk.
The family did not have a car, but they had a tractor. My uncle and aunt would milk the cows in the morning and again in the evening, or maybe it was just the evening. At any rate, they would put the milk into giant cans that went on a trailer that was pulled by the tractor driven by my uncle to the place where they put the milk into containers with missing children on them.
There are other steps involved between squeezing the cow's udders _ which, by the way put me off milk for quite a long time _ and the container with the missing kids. I don't know what those steps are, though.
So many topics to cover here... but again...a bus you will never be on... just so happens to be in Tijuana (thread integrity)
And, since the setting is Ireland, where they do not grow cacti, there will be no peyote in this story.
So where were we?
Oh, yes, so my uncle would drive the tractor with the milk cans on the trailer to the place they put the milk into the carton with missing kids.
Pause for an illustration:
This is not my uncle, but he did wear a cap like that guy's.
And he had dogs that would bring in the cows, which I always thought was funny because I thought dogs only rounded up sheep or, in the case of the unlost dogs, tennis balls. But only soft tennis balls that squeak.
Here is another portrait of someone wearing a cap like my uncle's:
I thought that guy was Leonardo Dicaprio, but apparently he's not.
Some of you may draw an immediate parallel between Unlost Dogs and Leonardo Dicaprio because of the whole boat thing...
...but my hair is not that long, and my boat is not that big.
EDIT: Also, unlike my boat, that boat still has propellers. The irony here are that like that boat, my boat's propellers also are at the bottom of the sea.
Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14
Comments
Don't forget your prize trucker hat:
You can see unlost just over my shoulder getting herself mentally prepared for "El Burro Muy Grande".
Does this mean elvis is alive too?
Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14
That was a great bus...
Ok Unlost, time for the story.
1. I have never been to Mexico
ii: I know better to go anywhere in a vehicle driven by Poncier (it's a document fact that large pet birds are responsible for 74% of all traffic accidents)
c) I never ride in the back of a bus due to my carsickness
Okay, the donkey story starts with me, age 12, on a summer visit to Ireland.
Setting: My uncle's farm on a hill overlooking the Aran Islands.
That's sweet of you to say. I still have the gift you gave me to put in the worlds smallest luggage there on my belt.
Perhaps this story is worse than anyone imagined...
what...did he drive the bus over a cliff? :?
as you can see, i'm very confused as to what is happening here
best i can gather, unlost went to Ireland as a child and was driven around the emerald isle by poncier the demented clown bus driver..scared of poncier, she exited the bus and flagged down the nearest pink donkey and rode it to salvation
am i close? :think:
Oh, so very close Norm _ you nailed it right up until you said the donkey was pink.
She was brownish gray. Standard Irish donkey color.
oh so you weren't tripping on peyote...gotcha!
Peyote is the stage name of this clown:
And he was sure smiling after leaving you at the back of the bus (until I told him he had to clean up your vomit, you really should avoid the back of the bus with that carsickness issue).
Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14
Go...
until she fesses up to what happened to the pink donkey, we can't move on
Tacos?
So, in this story I am 12, in Ireland for the summer, visiting family on a hillside farm overlooking the Aran Islands: Inishmore, Inishmaan, and Inishshit. They're quite beautiful islands, inhabited by friendly gnomes who speak an archaic dialect of Orc.
Author's note: I've never actually been to the Aran Islands, but I saw part of a Rick Steves special about them, or maybe it was one of them, so I'm somewhat of an expert on the matter. It might have been the Guernsey Islands or possibly Crete in the Rick Steves special, I'm not really sure.
Anyway, the family who lived on this farm raised dairy cows. Those are cows that are used to make ice cream and also milk.
The family did not have a car, but they had a tractor. My uncle and aunt would milk the cows in the morning and again in the evening, or maybe it was just the evening. At any rate, they would put the milk into giant cans that went on a trailer that was pulled by the tractor driven by my uncle to the place where they put the milk into containers with missing children on them.
There are other steps involved between squeezing the cow's udders _ which, by the way put me off milk for quite a long time _ and the container with the missing kids. I don't know what those steps are, though.
Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14
So many topics to cover here... but again...a bus you will never be on... just so happens to be in Tijuana (thread integrity)
And, since the setting is Ireland, where they do not grow cacti, there will be no peyote in this story.
So where were we?
Oh, yes, so my uncle would drive the tractor with the milk cans on the trailer to the place they put the milk into the carton with missing kids.
Pause for an illustration:
This is not my uncle, but he did wear a cap like that guy's.
And he had dogs that would bring in the cows, which I always thought was funny because I thought dogs only rounded up sheep or, in the case of the unlost dogs, tennis balls. But only soft tennis balls that squeak.
Here is another portrait of someone wearing a cap like my uncle's:
I thought that guy was Leonardo Dicaprio, but apparently he's not.
Some of you may draw an immediate parallel between Unlost Dogs and Leonardo Dicaprio because of the whole boat thing...
...but my hair is not that long, and my boat is not that big.
EDIT: Also, unlike my boat, that boat still has propellers. The irony here are that like that boat, my boat's propellers also are at the bottom of the sea.
Not today Sir, Probably not tomorrow.............................................. bayfront arena st. pete '94
you're finally here and I'm a mess................................................... nationwide arena columbus '10
memories like fingerprints are slowly raising.................................... first niagara center buffalo '13
another man ..... moved by sleight of hand...................................... joe louis arena detroit '14