The Amazing Adventures of a Zoobroker and a Sentiographer
Last night, in Charleston, I almost kept up with Matt's seemingly endless capacity for barbecue. Alas, tonight, I was defeated and had to go with the fried chicken basket ... I'm blaming it on the 30oz margarita. Anyway, Pineapple Willy's produced some good ribs, meat melting off the bone, but the sauce was lacking a bit ...
We picked up some fireworks on the way through Georgia and thought we'd put them to good use on the beach. Our cab driver (not the one named Yoda -- no I'm not kidding) let us know that fireworks + beach = jail, along with suggestions on how to use an M80 to deter would-be home invaders. Anyway, we did the obligatory sparkler writing, followed by Matt's fire dancing, and finally decided to appease the natives and set me on fire with 30 feet of fuse ... check out the pics below!
