|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
|
.
|
|
.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
< previous |
next > |
|
After
brunch, we ran into Ed in the Cantina. We recreated the scene
from Napoleon Dynamite where Deb is taking Uncle Rico's picture,
and tells him to imagine he is weightless amongst a flock
of seahorses! I was Deb.
They were all Uncle Rico. |