by 
Friday night. Pops in town. The Hawklet sleeps, as does her Momma. They all went to bed exhausted after hours of me telling stories of how absolutely adorable I was as a baby, and how i make people feel sort of awkward by being sooooo handawesome. (i’m going bald.) Family as fuck, for sure, but before I get my Friday night on, crazy like ducks on a jogging trampoline, I’m giving you a crash course in how to make a sign.
1. design the fucker right out there on some paper. use a pencil. use a pen on top of the pencil, use a fucking hammer–it doesn’t matter. just have fun with this part, because all of the next steps are a real bitch in the neckass.
2. cut the fucking shit out of some wood for hours, paint it till your septum weeps from vapor stains, screw shit together like you’re preparing for the Titanic reunion cruise, and then staple, Tap-Con, liquid nail, poster putty, staple and shit stick the piss crap out of that fucker to the front of a goddamn store. forever. love your brothers. clap. go to the bank. love your brothers. get hammered. it’s the weekend.
Dude, the only thing that matters is that they tell you that they love you & that you say ( & feel), the same thing
I figured duct tape would come into this promise somewhere, I admire your more advanced techniques, SH.
That shit awesome. Rocks ass like cigs.
shit lost in swelter. damz fine werks. Like bubbling up a pair of nice saggies.
Chapel Hill represent!