Profile #4

Neal Anderson:

Neal was a child raised by aborigines of the NBA. We have no idea who his real parents were but we found him working on his 3-point shot on the side of a barn in ghettos of Missouri. We befriended because we knew we needed a thug on our side: Someone who could strike fear in the hearts of people.

After getting to know Neal a little more we were shocked to find out he was white. That is right, although his skillz that pay the billz would prove otherwise he is white. Chief Slim and Jason were in a wrestling match about whose tin can phone was better and Neal kept running up to them (while they were pinned) and smacking them on the head...It was the funniest thing to see.

But I am getting off track. He is baller of the group. Not quite the shot-caller (holler) nor does he ride an impala, but he has strong moral and keeps spirits high. We have deemed him the chef on the trip. So far we have eaten a lot of cereal and grilled cheese sandwich's (which are wonderfully delicious!).

When we asked him if he wanted to travel west with us he said..."Big gulps huh...sweet I'll come!" His ambitions include figuring out the probability we will survive this trip, starting a league called CBT (i hear he might get MadDog Tannen to make an appearance, maybe even Billy the Kid) finding a little lady to settle down with in hopes to create his own starting 5 basketball team and bringing water awareness across the great lands.

As this trip unfolds we hope many things from Neal besides his exquisite cooking talents and high morals, like a b-ball game with the natives where he drops 50pts. 15 ast. and 30 rbs. We would have to change his name to hot. Hi Hot how are you. His answers would come in the form of dribbles. 1-dribble yes, 2-dribbles no, cross-over maybe, behind the back I PITY THE FOO!

Time to go

I awoke frozen. The only thing I could move was my right pinky. Slowly I curled it and in front of me was a flame with a face. It hissed at me and proceeded to enter my body through my chest. I arched up on my back and nearly fell from my bed. Still paralyzed I attempted to yell for help only to have an empty whisper escape my mouth.

That's when Rob appeared and like a rubber band pulled to full tension I snapped back up and exhaled 8 oz of stomach acid.

The radio blasted Yankee Doodle and we finally decided it was time to continue on the trip.

Man, Fort Kearney was fucked up.

Captains log

Captains log. We have lost track of time and although weeks have passed we have not moved. After the squirrel incident we have all gone frozen by our surroundings.

Anther wagon passed us by last night, or was it last week. I think somewhere along the trail we entered into a time warp where we stand still but life keeps going on. I turned my head last night and here is what happened:

I could feel a breeze flowing over my face. I looked out in the horizon and the tumbleweed was not tumbling; just sitting there.

I looked forward and a mogwai was in front of me asking me if i had HBO or MTV. I am unsure what each of these things are, but was more freaked out by this cute little cudley dude just talking with me. I mean the words were very raspy and he seemed friendly, but something said don;t get him wet.

As I was about to pet the mogwai i was transported to a 3D land of 64bit fun. Some guy named mario was challenging me to a game called tennis. There was a maharishi there playing a guitar singing "Life on Mars" and i had a montage of our trip thus far.


Well I did end up winning the tennis match 3-2, but after I won i looked left and there was wagon. I shook my head and decided to walk around. As i got i out fell flat on my face. It turns out that someone put our wagon up on some rocks and although the wheels were moving we were not. Hopefully we can get off this rock and back on the trail.

Another fort

As we were getting closer to another fort we decided to make our own fort as a way to earn some extra cash along the side. We needed materials and the only thing we had was beer cans.

I am not sure where Australia is buy the Fosters was certainly tasty. We left the fort to be ran by some chipmunks Chief slim met along the way. Slim spoke chipmunk it sounded like "squeak squeaken, squeaker squeak..." I thought he was crazy but sure enough we received 5 cents from the Pony express yesterday and an acorn.

I think that paying him is way out of line but if it brings in the money we will have to make do. In fact it has been about a week since we heard from him and if you have seen this squirrel please let us know.

Profile #3

Profile #3: Chief Brent "Slim" Schleicher

"I have nothing to write about me, write something for me. I am not creative. And i have to clean some sand out of my groinal region..."- Chief Slim

Well the leaders will have to write this one for the Chief. Chief Slim was added to the trail for a variety of reasons. 1) He is an indian and knows the land. 2) He is an indian and knows the land. 3)"write something stupid"-Juice. 4)He knows the tall tale of Injine Roni. z) He is awesomeness and this trip would be a bust without having him on the trail.

We found Slim in Missouri with his bride to be and she was looking for a new job since the little one would be coming in the next couple of years and the current job did not have a proper childcare plan. When the opportunity came for a trip out west and a way to start a new life Chief Slim jumped on board.

We looked over his resume and we were highly impressed. He had a bachelors degree from the Mystic Lake in slot machines, a grad degree in something called a computer (we think this is a slang term for the peace pipe a sacred object of the tribes) and he knows how to put the food down. He took down 13 people in a people pie eating contest and they were about 50 pies behind him so we had to take him. We also heard that he can chug a mean beer and figured this guy would be good to have on the trip.

We must also mention his size. After the pie eating contest we saw Chief Slim walk out and get called something like pepperoni something-rother. He proceeded to wrestle the @#$%^&U*I( out of these guys. There must have been 20 guys looking to take him down and in the end there was only one...and it was him.)

It is safe to say Slim is the muscle of the group. When something is not going right all we have to do is put the big guy out there and he will rip them a new one. Among other things he is looking to find on the way to Oregon is the Chicks. I think i heard him say that Chicks dig guys who go on wagon trails west with 4 other dudes. He then proceeded to say i am a golden god while standing on top of the wagon. He may have had some peyote or just a little drunk from all the food.


Regardless here is a drawing so you can get an idea of how big he is, as well as this shoe he traded away for a Billy the Kid trading card.

The ghost of Andy haunts us!!

I do not believe in ghosts. I do not believe in ghosts. Repeat with me. I do not believe in ghosts.

I have to keep telling myself this because some of the recent events we've encountered have been extraordinary. It's documented that we visited a grave site recently. The five of us couldn't stop laughing at Andy's tombstone. We spent the entirety of the afternoon conjuring up funnies related to the inscription of "Here lies andy, peperony and chease".

BIG MISTAKE.

As we left the grave site we headed back towards the original trail. After 45 minutes of travel we circled back to where we started. It was one of those unexplainable oddities that's straight out of a horror film. It was getting dark and we had travelled most of the day as we approached the grave site. We decided to call it a night and staked down.

BIGGER MISTAKE.

In the middle of the night a fire broke out in the wagon. We lost 4 sets of clothes and lost and/or damaged our spare wagon parts. You might think, get the F*%& out of dodge, but silly me, I just blamed Jason and his pyrotechnics.

The following morning we studied carefully our path of choice and set off. Again, we circled back to where we started. To make a long story short, we were starting to panic. Ok, now its time to get the F*%& out of dodge.

But wait, the never ending circle lasted the entirety of day #2. We sat down and planned our escape. We were rather exausted both mentally and physically so we decided we'd take an entire day to set up defenses against Andy and this haunted marsh while planning our escape. Day 3 went by very slowly as none of us got much sleep. Our general health has dropped to a level of "Fair" as suggested by Neal. But what would he know? He's only a doctor. Or maybe he just plays one on TV. Not sure really.

Day Four we started by offering peace and food to the ghost of Andy. About mid day the skies cleared up and we took it as a sign to leave. We thought we were in the clear. We finally got to our original trail and Andy sent us one more goodbye gift.

One of our wheel's broke on the wagon. Good thing that fire wrecked our spare parts!

Why we keep on keepin on

One thing the entire team tries to avoid during this trip is death. Yeah, death as you would assume probably sucks. But today we came across an old grave site and decided to look around. Boy are we glad we did!!

We knew there'd be a few good laughs on this trip and today the biggest of them came when were were checking out the grave site (yeah, what kind of sickos check out grave sites??).

Sorry Andy, but you may have lead a great life, but you wouldn't know from your tombstone. I'll ignore the typos entirely just to question why you would even bother putting your favorite pizza toppings on your new permanent front porch??? I mean c'mon. The standard procedure is to specify your name, birth year and death year along with those that you were survived by.

THIS, is not how any of us want to go out. But you know, I doubt little that any of us would hesitate to get one good last laugh at each other if we did die.

If you must know, this is why I keep on keepin on. RIP Andy!

West side connection

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Wagons East

I awoke this morning without any recollection of how the trip has been going. While i was sleeping i dreamt i was in this land where animals talked to me and there was a Lion who ruled over all. The weird thing was he licked my face. I think i was supposed to say thank you but instead i licked his face back. It turns out all i has to say was thank you, where were you on that one Garth?


So far the land has been pretty boring. We went by this lady and started whistling at her and offering her beads and for some reason the guys started shooting their guns at us! I mean what was the big idea we were just trying to trade some beeds, we heard women like jewelry. Did they think we wanted something else? Maybe someday women will want to trade something for beads like a piece of bread or some fruit, but for now we will just have to expect to trade with people who understand us a little better.


I am attaching this picture I drew of us on the trail. I think i really got a lifelike drawing here as none of us have a mustache, and what the hell...there is a leprechaun in the picture as well. That must mean imaginationland is true and therefore terrorists are attacking my imagination. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..wait i did not draw that picture, i think jason did...

Here is the picture i drew:

The order from left to right is Juice, Jason, Slim, Neal and Robin.

Juice has the hat because was the only one smart enough to get one on this stage of the trip. Jason's hair is spikey and i have no idea how he does it, but somehow it is always styled. Chief Slim has the feather because he caught a phesant last week and liked the feather. Neal has the mustache because Neal is a player represent! Robin has chops because he just does.

Some other things to observe in this picture is the newly installed tap on the side of the wagon. We got this deal in Missouri with this beer place called Budweiser. They were not all that huge but said if we shard some tasty brew on the trail they would help us out along the way. So we put a tap on it and the party wagon has never been better! We celebrated hence all the booze sitting out. Also note the fish. I swear they were smiling at me. This drawing was done after a bit of celebrating getting to the river, but i felt it captured the mood when we got to the river.

I don't want to get cocky or anything, but caulking and floating across was a cinch. We had no trouble whatsoever. Some of these others who paid for the ferry, well I think they're just that; ferry's.

On a more serious note. There have been grumblings that the rest of the crew is getting anxious and impatience with me as the wagon leader. They just want to get on with the travels, but I'm looking out for our safety. But you know, I can be a grumpy bitch too so when we wake up tomorrow and start our travels we're kicking it back up to a grueling pace. I'll show them whose boss. See if anyone complains now. They know that I rule with an iron fist and one testicle.

The fish we had at the Kansas River was fantastic, but a bit of advice. Never eat fish before you go clubbing, dawg!!!

Another delay!!???

It's not like we're flying commercial here. The delays keep mounting. This time we've approached the Kansas River as I previously posted. Here's a little knowledge: The river is currently 674 feet across and 11 feet deep in the middle.

The ferry operator told us that trying to ford any river deeper than the wagon bed -- about two and a half feet -- would be a very bad idea. We'll lose supplies and perhaps our lives.

Hiring the ferry isn't an option. We only have $4.00 and this trip has only just begun. We'll probably attempt to caulk the wagon bed and float it across. But the previous stranger I asked mentioned his concern with rain. And well, the conditions right now, according to the weather station, are very rainy. We're going to wait a day and see if conditions improve. The guys could use the rest after our grueling pace. Unfortunately, I think to make up for yet another delay, we'll likely start our trip out at a strenuous pace once we get across the river.

And if that wasn't enough, these boots are giving me sores on my feet and I think I heard Jason say he has a bad case of shin splints. Neal is battling a mild case of Plantar Fasciitis. Slim's going strong using his skills of the land. Rob seems in good spirits as he's met a few guys who like to throw a pie plate around. The label said "Frisbee".

Kansas River crossing

The harsh reality is that we're trying to get to Oregon all the way from Missouri via wagon. The days we lost to the blizzard set us back on our time line. Using my powers of persuasion I convinced the crew that we should go 3 days at a grueling pace. If my estimates were correct, we'd arrive at the Kansas River where we could stop to rest. I want to thank everyone for putting up with my shit. Well, we're finally here. Expect a few posts chronicling our visit. Attached is a real photograph of what the Kansas River looks like here in 1848.

I haven't given much thought on how we'll try to cross this beast of a river but I asked around and a stranger said:

"Can't afford to take a ferry. We're making our wagon into a boat. We'll turn it over, caulk the bottom and sides with pitch, and use it to float our goods across. Have to swim the animals. Hope it doesn't rain -- the river's high enough!"

We only have $4.00 ourselves so I think we might try the same or we'll try to ford the river. Whatever that means.

The blizzard is over. Now we're stabbing westward.

The snow actually held us up two days. We've travelled only 16 miles thus far and the snow has caused a white-out. When we started it was like ships upon the ocean on rolling waves of green from horizon to horizon. Now it's white everywhere. Slim's freak white spot on his sideburn is the only thing brighter.

We're thinking of tricking out our wagon. Spinners? Nice little flame decals perhaps?

We can't forget big fuzzy dice or even that disco ball. This has to serve dual purposes. This is obviously our wheels out west, but its a party pad too. You know, the chicks gotta dig the ride.

So if you can come up with some good ideas on how we can make this the premier wagon heading out west, we're all ears. If you think you're wagon is better, we'll play some good old wagon-chicken to prove who's really hot.

Profile #1

Hi, I'm Aaron. I'm the leader of the wagon. Well its a funny story how I became leader. Basically one day I said, "man, this sucks. We should head out west." And so we did. My buddies put an ad in the paper asking for people who want to go west and can supply towards our minimum $400 to go. If i could do it again, I'd ask for more money up front, but i cant. anyway, this is about me right???

OK, so I'm a simple man. I'm one of the quickest draws and I'm pretty good at poker. how else do you think i raised the money needed to go out west? my plan is to set up a casino once i get out west. I'll need an act, so i have included the services of Slim, Neal, Jason, and Robin on this trip. They don't know it yet but they're the focus of my circus-casino idea.

I'm a Pisces who has aspirations of greatness. I'm to be wed soon, which is great. I mean, i hate using these sheep skin condoms.... HOLLER!!

If i could build anything it would be a kegerator. Maybe once I get to Oregon....

I'll be posting frequently updating you guys with how the travels go. I hope you enjoy.

Profile #2

Robin Mooers

A passenger in the wagon looking for to see a squirrel or two on the way out west. Married to Katherine Mooers, he supports his family by making door handles for the lower class in Missouri. He is hoping that by going west he can not only start a new market for training oxen to fetch the daily newspaper for their owners and creating a new kind of potato called the french fry that will taste like a potato but will be smaller, tastier and take less time to cook!

He enjoys fishing, throwing pie tins and dancing. If you here some pots banging together you can be sure a ho down is a brewing as he is dancing around the fire screaming "Air you are my bitch lover!" or wait i mean "Carry on thy westword son...there be peace when the oxen come...lay your weary head to rest, as we head out west!"

"My name is Robin Mooers and I am natively from Minnesota, but looking to head out West and explore the great land of America! I was a little unsure about joining the wagon, but after talking it over with Katie and praying this was the right thing to do. With 10 kids on the way i need to find a way to make some money and support the family. Here in Missouri all they have is country music in Branson and I doubt that will last. But what i would really love is to make riding the wagon my way of life...yeah and monkeys might fly out of my butt! Well with Aaron at the helm we are sure to not make it, but i bet there will be another wagon on the trail and hopefully we will just hitch a ride. But don;'t tell him that. I mean he can be a little intensity in ten cities, but doe she have the strength to lead the wagon west? I mean KG was just traded, he is getting married soon, he will have to move soon and work is pretty busy: don't you think leading a wagon west is a lot of work to handle on your own? But as the old saying goes, 'Policy and/or primary Notice:' :) "

Severe blizzard. Lose 1 day.

Well it couldn't have gotten off to a more (in)convenient start. We sat around for a while deciding what to do and when we finally set off for the trail, we encountered immediately a severe blizzard. We had to take cover along with a few other HOT HOT HOT trail bunnies nestled inside our wagons. I know what you're thinking, Slim not wearing clothes during a blizzard was a bad idea, however, it didn't take us long to realize that we all had to get naky-naky and snuggle together to get through the cold night. Good thing for us, we brought sex dice and some of Slim's cider-vodka-everclear mix to get us through the night. I don't really remember all of the details of the night. It's a bit fuzzy....

PS - What happens on the trail, stays on the trail.

The Trail Starts

The trail starts and we are farmers, the people in the wagon are Aaron as the leader, Robin, Slim, Neal and Jason. We enter into 1884 and start in March as we journey west. Before journeying we have $400 to spend.

Wus up Matt he is going to hook us up fat at the general store as we start our way out west! We start with some supplies to party on our way to Oregon!

We purchase:
We order 2 sets of Oxen (Rob is a twat due to purchase, Slim licks Rob Balls and rim jobs juice while snorting poop
)
We order $200 of food because Slim is Fat and well we need to feed Slim.
We order 8 sets of clothing since Slim (aka Brent is gonging to be naked).
$6.00 of ammunition which ends up being like a box or so of bullets for each person.... Holler!
And then one of each spare part!

As we load the wagon we notice how loud the Volume is! (What the F$%T^Y&I Juice are you Def i mean c'mon!)

March 1, 1848 Independence!

Weather: Cold
Health: Good
Pace: Steady
Rations: Filling

What do we do...

Here are the options:

1. Continue on the Trail.
2. Check Supplies
3. Look at Map
4. Change Pace
5. Change food rations
6. Stop to rest
7. Attempt to trade
8. Talk to people
9. Buy supplies

Stay tuned to see how our travels progress.