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By Adams
Fake news.

The East Cape has no fish. And the margaritas at R. Leonero suck. . .

Nicely done gents.
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Done right on every level :bow. I had no clue what I was doing my first time there, can't wait for another shot at the gallo.

Where can I get my four amigos "The B Team" sticker :smile
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By fly-chucker
Adams wrote: Tue Jun 06, 2017 4:46 pm Fake news.

The East Cape has no fish. And the margaritas at R. Leonero suck. . .

Nicely done gents.
Holy fuck!!! you're alive.

Looks like we can take your face off of the milk carton :cool
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is it just me or were there no taco bells in any of this OUTSTANDING coverage
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By Hogleg
#677704 wrote: Wed Jun 07, 2017 9:03 pm is it just me or were there no taco bells in any of this OUTSTANDING coverage
We probably would have fared better had there been Taco Bell. Somewhere in all that delicious looking food a couple of us picked up something we couldn't put down. Lots of toilet time and vomiting took place. A few urgent trips up into the arroyo with hopefully enough shit tickets.

I actually shit my pants while waiting on a shuttle outside the Denver airport. True story.

I couldn't swear to it but I'm guessing AJ left some tighty whities down in Baja.

That reminds me: Joe, you owe for excessive TP use.
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By augustwest
Had I read this before I picked up AJ Saturday at 4:30am I might would have spread newspapers and plastic on the passenger seat.
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By Average Joe
Since the subject has now been broached...

I've an inherent distrust of the medical profession.

No idea where it came from, but there it is.

Every morning while Hogleg was preparing for his role in the next "Mummy" sequel (hat, buff, gloves, etc.), I was slathering dark tanning oil on whatever skin wasn't covered by the wife beater I woke up wearing.

When everyone else was "hydrating," I was throwing back beers and margaritas.


After three days of unsuccessful rooster hunting, we stopped by the beach bar for some gritas, chips, guac, and pico.

As we were walking back to the quads I got the feeling that something wasn't quite right with my gut, but figured it would pass.

When we got back to the hacienda I thought, "Something is definitely wrong."

I was really tempted to skip dinner and just hang back, but I didn't want to be "that guy," so I told myself, "It'll pass. Just muscle through it."

We all piled into the quad and headed to the restaurant.

I jumped out of the back, and as soon as my feet hit the pavement I knew I was going to blow.

"You guys go ahead."

As soon as they were inside the restaurant I spewed all over the street.

Once I collected myself, I went inside and sat down.

Hogleg knew something was wrong and ordered me a bottle of water.

I took a few sips, then went back out into the street and spewed again.

There's nothing like a guy heaving his guts out in front of your restaurant to entice people driving by into thinking, "Let's eat there!"

I've no doubt business suffered that night.

When we got back to the hacienda I assumed the worst had passed, but that was not the case.

Hogleg "my good friend and fishing buddy" now morphed into Hogleg "my nagging mother, my nagging doctor, and my nagging wife" all rolled up into one big motherfucker who would kick my ass if I didn't do exactly as I was told.

He started with, "We've all eaten the same food since we've been here and you're the only one who's sick, so this is probably a result of too much sun, dehydration, excessive alcohol consumption, and a bleeding ulcer."

What followed was half an hour of torture.

"Drink this. Now drink this. Now take these pills."

Disgusting. All of it.

Ten minutes after he'd finished administering everything he thought would cure me, I hurled it all up into his mother-in-law's flower garden.

Hogleg's brother-in-law saw this and said, "If those flowers die I am not taking the rap."

I spent the next day in bed back at the hacienda thinking, "Maybe it's time to grow the fuck up."

Then Hogleg got sick too, and I thought, "Fuck yeah. It's just something we both ate. My lifestyle is golden."

It was quite the epiphany.
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By Ephemeral
You left more DNA behind than a JV quarterback on prom.

I didn't know what to feel more badly for: you, the patrons, the owners; the flowers or the curb. A lot of things lost that night.
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