Nice to meet you all; I'm the new kid. That's about all I can muster for an introduction, as spring break looms promisingly on the horizon and time is of the essence.
In checking my "calendar" the collective away messages and profiles of everyone on my "'buddy list,' which more than adequately keep me abreast of all necessary occasions I made a rather startling discovery. It would seem, judging from the edicts and embellishments in said IM notices, that the entity of spring break itself is in jeopardy, as it is about to face an onslaught of unprecedented proportions. If her profiled proclamations are to be believed, for example, the timid brunette in my math class is about to sweep into Daytona Beach with such gale-force intensity that the unsuspecting city "won't know what hit it." Though I've never actually seen her talk, or perform any physical task other than cower, I suppose I see no reason why she shouldn't be able to render Daytona Beach a smoldering wasteland of spring break mayhem or, at very least, get her knockers on a couple of videos.
Likewise, the husky girl in my writing class has been bellowing from the sagging AIM rooftops that South Padre Island "won't see [her girls and her] coming." This claim I find particularly hard to swallow, as I can already picture South Padre Island up in the crow's nest with a set of binoculars, watching this gal's struggling airplane dipping and rising for the entire duration of its flight. If South Padre Island doesn't see that eclipse coming, it better get its ass to the optometrist post-haste.
Finally, I can't overlook the massive and completely inarticulate gentleman in my bio class who has grunted / promised that "Miami won't be ready for us," with the ambiguous "'us' clearly representing either his group of friends or his musculature. This assertion I believe completely, as no spring break location could ever be prepared for the drain on sunlight, tanning oil and intelligence that these gentleman will enact upon whichever utopia my frail-n-pale ass happens to be visiting. Fortunately, having learned from a previous trip to Panama City, I've packed an entire briefcase of books to hurl menacingly at said hulks should they attempt to infringe on any misinformed young lady to whom I'm kicking game.
Interestingly, if you'll notice a pattern within these spring breakers' boasts, it's that their doomed destinations of choice are all devoid of some particular knowledge or sense: it "won't see us coming" or "won't know what hit it." In my case, this is especially true, considering that true to the form of the spontaneous, budget spring break my south-bound colleagues and I have made no reservations whatsoever in any of the cities to which we're heading. In fact, we're not entirely sure where we're going at all. We just spent one afternoon throwing around the names of all the spring break hotspots we'd like to hit and then, as the empty pitchers of beer accumulated, reasoned that hitting all of said cities was probably our best bet. Driving was an obvious choice, as was ignoring our staggering debts. What we were left with, that drunken evening, were cursory plans to take three cars one of which is a Mustang, the pinnacle of fuel and occupant efficiency and leave at 4 am when we get back from the bar. This was announced by the only person cogent enough to speak clearly, and drunken handshakes were exchanged. In so doing, we had reached a point of no return.
But remember, this spring break, one requisite safety tip: Boat load limits; don't exceed them. God, I made more IM references in this column than should ever be made in any one body of writing. Anyway, break your spring wildly, whenever yours may be. Best domination wishes.
1. Eric Wang has a new column called "Oh, My Nuts"
2. Matt has a new column too which you can read by clicking this thing right here.
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4. Hey, see these hotlinks? Yeah.