The Halo Tournament

Hello! My name is Admiral Tim, and I will be your guide for this photo essay!

(see this link for more info on the Halo tournament)

How did I lose my eye, you ask? Let's just say those frat boys got a little carried away with their rock-hard erections . . .






We start out with a little training at John's place. If you've never been to John's massive single-celled apartment, well, now you have. In the same sense that you've had a threeway with two beautiful emo girls dressed in blue plaid skirts: by seeing pictures of it on the internet.






Victory is assured!

Most certainly!






This is John. Sometimes he looks very British. Here he looks like a British cat. Not only British, but also like a cat.

Meow!






Andy: Let's go kick some ass!

Tim: Let's go abduct a little boy!

Andy: ...






Man, when Tim puts on that eyepatch . . . sometimes I wonder if I might be gay . . .






And maybe that's why I have all these warts on my junk . . .






Let's play some Halo!

And at this point we play the JERKIEST, MOST WE-GOT-FUCKED-BY-HARDWARE game of my life. Movement was as grainy and jerky as an old computer game. No precision. We got F'd by overworked LAN cables and overhot consoles. And that makes these faces:











Amish! You got eight fucking kills!

Yeah? The controls were all--HWARG!




What could possibly soothe our broken hearts?

Oh, I know! PIRAAT ALE!