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Interested In:
Just looking around
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Member Since:
May 2003
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Hometown:
Vacaville, CA
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Brendan's URL:
http://profiles.friendster.com/214212
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Other education:
uc santa barbara, vacaville high school
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Occupation:
badger handler
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Favorite Books:
the octopus, catch 22, breakfast of champions, most beautiful woman in town, ham on rye
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Favorite Movies:
dr. strangelove, big lebowski, cool hand luke, sexy beast, bottle rocket, rushmore, royal tenenbaums
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Favorite Music:
les savy fav
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Favorite TV Shows:
cops
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a secluded Jalama beach in the winter
of '95. It is midnight, and the moon
hangs low. Some fresh fish dangle
lifelessly from the lines on which their
lives were taken, to fill the bellies of two
amigos. Brendan spoke as he tended
the fire with the seasoned hands of a
man of the land, and when he did, he, in
a feral growl reminiscent of the majestic
snow monkeys of Hokkaido,
proclaimed, "The wind is picking up
Marking, the trades are coming, and
with them the tides will drop, the swells
will pump, the last drop of our very souls
besmirch thee, OH NEPTUNE! Surf or
feckin' die!!!" And with that statement,
that litany, that surfer's code that beats
in every young gremmies' heart, Murph
grabbed his trusty 7'2" Rhinochaser,
pulled on his still dripping and faded
wettie, and paddled out into the night....
I never saw him again. The sea was his
passion, the sea was the only place he
finally found solace. Please tell his
story. Spread his
guy that would let you kick him in his
privacy just so you could take a
picture of it...no, seriously, once
Murph let my friend Jaime kick him in
his privacy just so we could take a
picture of it.
disposed of a hotdog as fast as murph.
his secret; mayo, relish, and a night
of drinking.
a chico legend, and he lives 3 hours
away.
with a thick coat of coarse moral fiber
(a fact that lent itself to the
creation of a when-in-doubt movement
known briefly as WWMD?), Murph has gone
and done the totally unexpected; one
solitary act, nay, an act of inaction
that may have serious implications for
a necessary attitude overhaul and may
completely throw WWMD? into upheaval
(we just don't know what Murph will do
anymore): as you can see, murph is
brandishing a beard!? and let this
serve as a warning to
all you cyber world ladies out there--
murph is coming and he's got the
Kevorka with him. i
suggest a daily regimen of back bends,
horseback riding and summer squash
insertion. he is not known in select
circles as Beercan Jackson for nothing.
some other things you may not have
known about murph: cooks a mean
Shepard's Pie, throws raging Tet
parties and will Riverdance all over
that ass. also, will eat any
combination of "food" and wash it down
with mayonnaise shots
until you or him puke, if you catch him
on the right night. and, watch the
closet meathead unleash a fury and
administer a sound beatdown to your
property in
any number of unheard of fighting
disciplines if properly provoked, even
if not. especially if not. and another
thing: try to talk him into letting you
see his trippy tribal dolphin/sun-moon
hybrid tattoo located on the small of
his back (the only thing small about
murph, mind you) next to the exit wound
scar. murph does NOT play in traffic,
he's the biggest jockey on the circuit
and yeah, he heard about that band last
week. love him.
tooth.
were he does is best work.
MT. oysters in one gulp...
he's Awesome..
terrorist.
July 1994 issue of "Jet-Ski Bimonthly"
magazine capture the essence of Brendan
quite nicely:
"Textbook airs, playful maneuvering,
and a pair of glutes that make you want
to throw turkey-bacon at his pants."
shredder out in the lineup. he'll tear
into a vicious cutback right in your
goddamned face, leaving you wondering
just when grissly bears learned how to
surf. all this is to say nothing of the
threathawk legacy and indelible mark
he's left on the
post-emo-alterna-country-electro-core
movement. the man is a legend. he's
all taboo and long-nosed giraffes. long
live the murph!