BeJesus Part 2 (deux)

We struggled to retain a grip on reality as we ended our tour of Henry's tiny village and returned to his house. Everyone we met was very friendly; As in friendly like they were more concerned with the disposition and eventual destination of our everlasting souls and could give a rat's ass about us apart from that. So the ladies had prepared a big spread while we were walking, and though we longed for the cool embrace of the ocean, we felt obligated to eat. These are poor country folks with no electricity, no running water, no cars, nada fucking mucho. So when the women lay out a spread of mystery meat and homemade bread and beans and rice, you eat, regardless of how hungry you are or the fact that you are currently tripping balls. So as we ate, a wiry little dude walks up (pictured playing guitar with Paul in part 1) shouting Dios! Dios! Dios!. Fucking great, the preacher. He's over the moon with the two whiteys with biblical names right in his backyard. He asks me if I want to talk about the Word of God, and I reply, "No, I don't." The little man is dumbfounded, and Aura quickly informs me that I actually said "I don't believe in your sky god." The little dude is truly speechless and retreats to the corner where he proceeds to gossip quite loudly with the womenfolk about how sad we are. Well, an already uncomfortable situation has been made all the worse by a little communication fiasco. All these women and the preacher and Henry and a couple other dudes are looking at us like we each sprouted 7 heads. We all just kinda stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, until finally Henry picks up a guitar and strums a bit. Paul quickly picks his up, and they sorta strum along together. The preacher slinks over and the next thing we know, the boys take turns playing and singing all kinds of churchy songs in Espanole. The Preacher is a mean guitar player as well, so we sit there for over an hour while the women sing and clap and exhort us to change our wicked ways. The preacher, unawares that Aura practically speaks more Spanish than he does, whispers to his congregation that he will "have us" before another hour is out. Not fucking likely. I'm watching the sweat bead up on Milner's face as he struggles to play through the pain this is obviously causing him. Finally, we conclude that we have performed admirably, and Aura informs the group that everything has been wonderful but we really MUST be going. Due to the music, things weren't quite as awkward anymore, and we leave relatively unmolested. Although we discover that Paul's favorite sticker on his guitar case, a gem that reads "keep music evil", is missing! No joke! The sticker is gone.....Trippy, to say the least. We immediately head to the store and begin pounding beers. All in all, a truly interesting and uncomfortable experience I wouldn't trade for the world.

Happy Birthday, Burt!

I'm tossing and turning in bed tonight 'cause my shoulders are killing me and this mattress is soft like concrete. Relentless surfing is starting to take a toll on the body. Anyway, while pissing away the night I uncovered an interesting fact on the interweb. Namely, today - 2/11 - is Burt Reynold's B-day. Burt, since we gave Aura a picture of you on her birthday, seems only fitting that we give you a picture of her: Here she is giving you the thumbs up!