A pole graveyard extending partway out to Washington.
Madeline modeling one of her perverted friend's creations. She might be angry if she ever finds out what it means. Or will she??
Flying to Portland, I notice water underneath and feel a great sadness that Pete, my rubber ducky, is not with me to share the moment.
Madeline's bedroom window.
Her life is a constant game of cat and mouse with BB-gun snipers.
After several attempts to purchase a large bird for the sole purpose of eating this yellowjacket, I was resigned to the fact that we would be roommates.
Madeline tries to start a new trend by showing everyone her O stomach.
Matt ponders fine art, politics, and whether or not his chapstick melted in his back pocket again.
Madeline ponders the meaning of life, the vastness of the cosmos, and that cloud that kinda looks like a penis.
Safely on the ground, the first thing I photographed was another camera. My metapowers are vast!
And this was before the wine.
There's nothing phallic about this picture.
Madeline practices for the blind olympics. Next event: pedestrian slalom.
Madeline (internal): Shit. I have Matt's chapstick in my pocket. Shit! It's melted. Wait, that smells like cherry. I love cherry.
Mike: Ca..Cap...Capitulate. It means to masturbate furiously with toothpaste. You're welcome.
