Six months after our trip to Hawaii, Greek finally provided me his digital photos. He tossed in a one gigabyte flash drive for good measure. It then took my lazy ass another four months to post some of his photos to my blog.

As I relaxed in my beach chair listening not to Justin Bieber but surely music nearly as awesome, JD, Greek, and NoCommonSense kayaked to two small islands.

NoCommonSense took off in shame after being dominated by a wave, but his follies continued. When they reached the second island, he tipped over his kayak spilling the GCBs (Good Cold Beers). Regardless, the island party continued. (Doesn't this look like Lost, anyone?)

On our way to the North Shore, we stopped by a popular turtle hangout. Turtles are amongst my favorite animals. Zeke and I found one when we were kids and named him Wolfy. We probably saw 50 more over the next decade, and named them Wolfy 2, 3, 4, etc. In truth, I can't tell if these are Wolfys or rocks.

I tried teaching Greek the way of the sunscreen. He listened after his skin was replaced by a stiff coat of sand.

Hurricane Felicia was talking shit, but couldn't back it up.

I love hand-me-downs, even ones from the mid 90s featuring Hare Jordan—though the t-shirt would be better with one or two Wolfys. Yes, I do wear this shirt in public. I'm pretty sure I possess at least one triple-hand-me-down.

Wahoowa!

Our boat trip to Kilauea Volcano on the Big Island was spectacular in retrospect—at the time, my seasickness made it horrendous.

JD had no problem.

Greek had no problem.

I turned a different color and felt like death.

NoCommonSense was worse.

The photo of the four of us is frame-worthy, but only after eliminating color—and thus my and NoCommonSense's green-yellow tinge.

Back on land, NoCommonSense getting ready to puke.

NoCommonSense puking.

NoCommonSense puking some more.

We went to bed around midnight before heading to the volcano, and woke up around 2:30 am. After being awake for about 37 of the previous 40 hours, a certain somebody may have dozed off standing up at a bar.

It could've been worse: I could've been this dog, Kona. That is one sickeningly ugly little bastard.