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11:00 ?:
We visted the Rastafarian's bus lot. Jay's father
represents a balding caricature of a used car salesman
with a phony pager and fake sunglasses. The man peddles
buses out of his dusty lot on the outskirts of Tucson while
his weed-worshipping dredlock friends shoot heroin in their
old gutter bus 'hideout.' They pretend to fix buses while the
caricature pretends to know what's going on. Oh. . . now
we are going to the tire store.
14:00 AST Avi:
Well it seems there has been a slight change in plans.
The free tires don't fit and we can't just ditch the bus even
if it means a ride home with 30 sorority chicks. So we wait
for 7 fucking hours while we spend 577.44 on new tires. And
now:
The old Plan
The new Plan
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