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As the group unloaded food from their packs, Wes took out what appeared to be a pipe bomb. "Oh shit" he exclaimed before stuffing it back inside his backpack and muttering something about the timing being all wrong.
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Randall: You gonna eat the rest of that sandwich? Billy: Yeah, why? Randall: Well, a dog just pissed on it. Billy: Yeah, but it was my dog.
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The piece of ass (a tasty drink) would soon become part of every activity we did as a group. Some would be quick to blame our decline in productivity on this, but I prefer to blame the crack.
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Andy was stingy with the beverage. He would measure out each shot, put it on a scale, and then drink half of it to ensure "it wasn't poison."
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The real replenishing drink for hikers everywhere: alcohol.
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Josh was quite sad after lunch. He was muttering something about "a big splinter in his toe" but we think it was some kind of emotional cry for help, so we ignored it.
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We all thought Alex couldn't handle his booze as well as the rest of us. But when he successfully put his arms around the two Wes' that he claimed to see, we were all very impressed.
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Dogs invaded our lunch area, lured there by lunch meats and citrus based alcohol.
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Rebecca and Jen ran around frantically, trying to lose the dogs. It would have worked too, if Josh hadn't yelled out "Jen has bacon in her pockets!" when the dogs had seemingly lost interest.
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Here Christine reaches for the meat between Wes' legs. (really)
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M&Ms in photographs are the height of artistic expression.
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"OK, who dropped my experimental sponge into the river? We're supposed to leave this place how we found it damnit! Stay the hell out of my evil laboratory!"
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Black rain umbrellas - every pale goth hiker's best friend.

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