the hair bender at home — 10 days old but kicking vigorously at 198.5 fahrenheit … and far more of the stunning bar of cacao ramming itself down your gorge. the ivory coastal, thyme-and-molasses kind, not the prune-n-syrup ghanan variety.
our commercial obsession du jour forked us a bag, half of which went down the hatch one night with solis jake, the other half of which disappeared the following morn when the bioluminescent cypriot banged down the door for his row of ristretto shooters. six hours later, the come-down had us weeping on the couch, and, sadly, pharmaceutical agents of recovery were in short supply. solution: ascend the mountain again!
did our first interpersonal take on the stumptownian stuff trump c-n-c’s citrus-heavy shots? why, no. a single pound ain’t enough to say definitively! instead, this blog has simply further cemented its affection to surfable group heads.