amish people and matching shirts

recently i set forth on an expedition one would only take with close friends (or grandparents, they loves this shit), in which we ventured into the rural wilderness of pa and observed the strange phenomenon called the amish.  Crazy fuckers thats for sure.  But even before entering true amish country we (a gaggle of misguided, yet undeniably handsome youths) experienced soemthign even more perplexing than the mindless torture amish folks choose to endure.

we entered the thudadome


yeahhh, it was a buffet and there were enough people there to fill at least two football fields, or more specifically two of their massive banquet halls.  It was intimidating as fuck.  i felt like a stoned fifteen year old boy, and i new i would not be able to eat as much as these champions of the country lifestyle.  So after sitting for three hours and failing to eat more than 1 and half whole chickens worth of pork, beef and polish sausage, we decided we should stop making cup pyramids and phone videos and instead venture into the gift shop. 



the gift shop spanned the entire bottom floor.  probably analogous to the mutated love child of a menage a trois between home goods, marshalls megastore, and crate and barrel.



but like any group of good friends we endured and rummaged through the store, hugged stuffed animals, played with wind chimes and weird musical dioramas, tried on way too many tshirts, and of course bought matching tshirts... two sets.