When Keeping it Jackal Goes Wrong: Blame Edition

There's keeping it jackal, and then there's, "Holy god, you're gonna get punched by a really fat Shittsburghian, while ditching your co-jackal, leaving your keys in the ignition, locking your buddy out of your house that you just started renting last week with a really nice girl who works in law, ALL THE TIME, and needs to sleep, but her doorbell rang so she had to wake up and go get your drunk buddy she met earlier that evening and thought to herself, 'Wow, I hope this guy doesn't fuck my shit up later on, worse yet that kid that rents the other room,' shortly after being invited by the two jackals to go to the bar"

May 8, 2009: Jackals convene at a den in nearby Silver Sprung for the likes of Game 4-Caps/Penguins, (Capitals jerseys are red white and blue like the glorious banner of our nation, as is the aforementioned aluminum temptress pictured above) Kubb, tomfoolery and, it was an afternoon intended to give birth to a brand new place where jackals could go to feed, urinate, toss shit, you now know it as the Jackals Den. Dale's sank its hooks into BMR pretty quick. Ovechkin=Russian, Russian=Vodka, Vodka+Dale's=Chicken brows

June 13, 2009: SS utilizes public transit(quite jackal) to traverse the Dirty District to peep some new digs BMR wrangled on the Uppa Eas' Side. Main man be like, "Oh shizzle, Pontius is peddlin' bevvies all up in that Pug, you bama ass bama." There was Irish whiskey, our old friend, Dale's, two Shittsburghians, and a significant level of jackalism in the air. The two undesirables were kindly asked if they would organize a mass Ixodus(opposite of Exodus?) of all Shittsburghians back to Shittsburgh, they declined. But the jackals were split up, car died, roommate got really pissed and the morning scorched, in want of jackaldom.

That my friends ain't a fuckin' coincidence. Bitch juice and jackalism are divided by the finest of lines.