An Overture to the Journey

Six men, brought together from the corners of America, have convened around The Round Table and decreed to invade, conquer, and settle in New Zealand indefinitely. This is their story.

They range from a sweet Georgian Man-boy, Shock (pictured above) to a Boston Cream Puff, Charlie. There's a former Staff Director, Morgan, an Irish Jigger, Dunne, a World Traveler, Calvert, and Trainer, a Tennessean Cowpoke. With the blessings of a nation, we go as ambassadors into a nation alltogether unprepared for the onslaught to come. Lord have mercy on the innocent.

Every heavenly-ordained mission needs its founding document. This is ours:

New Zealand Manifesto

Extra points for scoring while landing at Auckland
Vespas are to be used as outriggers for the communal traveling van
No Diesals
No chicks (for extended stays) We're dudes!
Babes get your own Vespa
Parties: Christmas Dinner, Superbowl, New Years, Trainer's B-day...Any excuse, really
The Christmas Card should be scandalous
We set out for Wellington on the 10th of December
We get hotels - not hostels
Shock does roids in order to get a strip club job
Find cell phones (for the calling of fine ladies) - screw land lines
We need internet (for porn)
Go on a excursion? You're still paying rent, fool!
We gotta get seats together on the plane. And free booze
Everyone print their visas
We want a motherfucking impressive big place - fuck yeah!
(this will save money, we'll go out less)
(central location - location, location, location)
We need TV - cable for Golden Girls Marathon
Get local brew for the kegerator. Bring fountain pumps
Get a huge American flag - Ol' Glory!
Everyone puts in Sunday Money for the house - communal funds
One night a week is Team Night (fuck yeah). We crew this shit up.
Shirts for everyone.

Humble beginnings, yes. Bright futures, yes. Fuzzy Memories - that's what the blog's for!

Let the party begin...