My day at King Richard’s Faire

 

(Yes, that's me)

 

So I went to the King Richard’s Faire last weekend with the intent of making fun of douchebags dressed up in costumes. I figure these people like to dress up like Conan The Barbarian’s gay half-brother and I like making fun of people, so everyone wins. I also brought my staple hidden bottle of booze which I bring to any event that I attend. Well I’ll tell you pard’ner, something inside of me changed in the woods that day (besides my blood alcohol level)… I started to enjoy myself. I started off laughing at the jerks dressed up like Pirates, Knights, Vampires, and Star Trek guys who beamed down to the Renaissance (which I researched later and found to be a big thing at these “Faires”) and I enjoyed it quite a bit. At one point in the day and about halfway through the bottle, I started thinking, “Damn that sword looks cool,” then I thought, “I probably need some gauntlets for my forearms.” Now, I would like to express that I didn’t want these items for any kind of LARPing or battle re-enacting, but for the sole purpose of advancing my quest for Rock and Roll. So I doled out a LOT of cash for these two items, figuring they would pay for themselves in good-times, destruction, and Rock and Roll. Little did I know how soon they would pay off.

The following day, I had a few people over for football and drinking (two of my favorite things in the world) and like anyone would have predicted, the sword came into play. First we posed with it, casually swung it around and admired its Conan-essence but things quickly escalated. After some, beers, some shots, and some HUGE glasses of vodkaDietPepsis (yes I drink that crap) the Renaissance Faire had begun and one of my chairs was completely destroyed. Sworded. The one IKEA chair that I didn’t fuck up during assembly I had completely destroyed.

 

Booze+Sword=Awesome

In hindsight I don’t regret destroying my chair as much as I regret laughing and the King Richard Dweebs, those cats had it right. I had no idea the chair-destroying power those cats had until now.

Bad NBA Tattoos

Reggie Miller. First I saw this tattoo and thought, “Oh, I never knew Reggie Miller had a vagina on his stomach.” Then I realized this was a tattoo. Looking at this picture I wonder what came first, the effeminate hand gesture or the tramp stamp surrounding his belly button. I don’t think we’ll ever know. Congrats to Reggie on the inadvertent Goatse (Google image that if you like bunnies) tattoo though.

Bad NBA Tattoos

OK Tim Duncan, what the fuck? You’re rich, right? You could afford to have someone other than a clearly-drunken retarded guy give you that tattoo while he was riding in the back of the short bus. Also, are you a Goddamn Juggalo ? Imagine seeing this 8 foot tall black guy at the Gathering of the Juggalos; I’d be less surprised if I saw a polar bear.

Bad NBA Tattoos

Stephen Jackson “Praying Hands Clutching a Gun”

I suppose if I was a Christian I would be offended with this but since I’m not religious at all, it only offends my good taste. It looks like his belly button is aiming a gun at his nipple.

My First and My Favorite Bad NBA Tattoo

Marquis Daniels “Only the Strong Survive”

I guess the poor gentleman on his forearm was not one of the strong ones. I can hear him describing the tattoo to the artist, “So the dude has a shotgun in his mouth, a bandana over his mouth somehow too, his toe pulling the trigger, and his brains blown out the back of his head.” You think he would have realized that was a horrible idea while he was explaining it but obviously he didn’t, because there it is.