grass

pucha, pare. so we decided to go out and beat the hell out of nature, pare. we searched for a good place and thought kutipot (cebuano, asshole) would be a great place as any. off we go.

the boys met at the watering hole, pare. the watering hole had a peeing hole and so we decided to take a shower of pee, pare. the trick here is, take as much air as you can and mouth the word 'pee' as long as you can while not inhaling. don't mind the fumes. it. is. ok. it's alright to shiver. think of where the pee came from and you'll all be teleported to bullacon. which is right beside kutipot.

a short trek and some swimming will get one to kutipot. now. problem. the sea which borders kutipot has sea grass, pare. and sea grass, being underwater 1) not shaved regularly 2) underwater is dark and slimy and icky.

our dear friend, tugi-fluffy-tt (aka polgas, then pol, then ka noli, then sgt sabaybunot, then 'fuck-the-whole-cast-call-me-PB'), had some reservation crossing the water gap. 'i don't want to swim. the grass is icky.' wat fa duck!?! a seasoned mountaineer doesn't swim when there are sea grassen (plural for grass, which is a collective noun for great behinds. great behinds being some sense of nostalgic history. one more time all over again redundant, pare.).

and wexed go like 'pichur pichur! at least they'll think i can swim.' true pucha pare fashion, pare.

tugi talked to a starfish. gawi talked about grass. we all gurgled beer.

LSS:

hey. mister dunkin donut. hey mister its a dunkin dunkin donut!