Uno, Dos, Tres, Cuatro, Cinco, Cinco, Blog

Greetings to our brothers from other mothers and sisters from other misters! This is our first and greatest blog of the new year, and as such we hope to entertain you in ways never before imagined by your simple minds.

A lot has happened since we wrote to you last. We now find ourselves in the apartment of our new friend Ezekiel. We recently found out that Ezekiel is the owner of the Dominican Republic, so it is a great honour for us to have befriended him. We ascertained this knowledge when Ezekiel asked us, "Do you like my country?" We responded with many noddings of the head and "si si senor"s. His dwelling is a glorious place, littered with instruments for making praises to God and pictures of a girl from Michigan, Sherri Dick's sister. No, Ezekiel is not a predatory internet slimeball: he is in fact her boyfriend! He seems like a very good boyfriend because he is even learning the language of English for her. We have been helping him prepare for the TOEFL exam by making up English words that we think might add a creative twist to his test responses that the graders might find enjoyable and perhaps amusing! With our help he will fail the TOEFL exam and have very poor english. We do this in the hope of furthering his language of love, much like a blind person's other senses are heightened with the loss of sight.

Stupefaction overcame yesterday us in the mighty waters of the Caribbean sea as we swam similarily to slippery sea lions in a stormy sea of salty serpentine saline solution. We found ourselves in the shoes of WWII soldiers storming the beach of Normandy, although our adversary was slightly different than crazed Nazis: it was in fact a constant barrage of waves breaking upon the sandy shore trying to limit our pursuit of opportune ocean oxperience. The fun we sought in the ocean was the equivalent of kicking Hitler in the balls with steel toed flip flops. However, rather than attempting to destroy the enemy, we body surfed upon the german soldiers with gleeful joy and interspersed smidgeons of fear. Salt bullets shot into our noses, ears, and souls, penetrating deep and affecting us long after as streams of salty snot water gushed from our noses for the rest of the day much like flashbacks coming to an old veteran as he plays bingo with his buddies and talks about the undisciplined youth of today.

In approximately one hour we leave to pursue spelunking delights in the caves of Santo Domingo. Our minds constantly drift to these caves of wonder as we sit here typing this message. Expectations are as high as the top of Marcel's head. We will likely venture through a forest of stalactites and stalagmites as dense as Andrew Cairn's beard. There will no doubt be sights as glorious and beautiful as the chest of Andrew Kuipers, gleaming after a fresh shower. We will traverse the pathways as smoothly as David Prins on a packed hockey rink. Hopefully we will avoid any ugly cave creatures as disgusting as Chris Wyenberg's complexion and physique.

So now we must leave you, dear friends, as the time for adventure draws near again. Until we write again, we wish you all the best in your boring homesteads as we pursue the wonders you only find in the wildest of opium-induced dreams.

Hasta Luego,

Craiger and Jay