Spring break ’99!!!!!!
Yes, my friends, it’s true. I am currently on my spring break. The time of year when thoughts turn to sunbathing and feasts of succulent pig-flesh. 11 days of sheer, unadulterated gluttony and sloth. A time when the lowliest of men are treated to opulent extravegance that would have made King Louis XIV vomit with envious rage.
I have spent the last day in solemn preparation for my week. I have ritualistically bathed myself in buttermilk and filled my fridge with 6 cases of Grain Belt Premium beer. I have been annointed with oils by a Gus Applebee, a bearded intinerant dweller who said he has ESP, and I have donned my favorite sweatpants. I have left several urgent messages on the mayor’s voice mailbox informing him of my plans, and layed down tarp over the section of the couch that I plan to spend the next 10 days sitting on.
My preparations are now complete. In but a moment I will brush my teeth, remove my shirt, and begin the rites of spring break. I will tune the cable box into MTV and watch young, nubile singles gyrate their bodies to hot, pulsating beats. Meanwhile, I will eat string cheese and suck down Grain Belt like a fiend.
I will cry out in agony as my bloated belly swells beyond all reasonable limits. Warm, moist spittle will collect in the corners of my mouth, and mix with my beer to create the rooty, organic flavor of Spring Break 2006.
And oh, it will be good.
P-dizzle,
Got your voicemail. Sorry I didn’t respond sooner. I have acquired $9 million worth of city funding for your endeavor. Sorry I can’t do more. We had to give a boat-load of money to our recently resigned school superintendent to make sure her reputation wasn’t ruined by her own incompetence.
I’m an effective mayor.
Sincerely,
R-Tizzle
I knew I should have become a teacher…
Peter, you are so hot right now.
“And I saw the armies of hell coming forth from the abyss, and their hosts were hosts upon hosts. And at the head of the column was Lucifer himself, and his standard bearer was with him. His name was Carson Daly, and he held forth a banner which said, “Spring Break ’06.”
Just watching MTV is so 1990s. You should spend the week shirtless, sipping Grain Belt through a crazy straw, and bellowing out “Surfin’ USA” on a fold-out lawn chair in Kevin and Leroy’s front yard. This would be enough to attract a young, hip crowd to gather around you while at the same time be repulsive enough to keep away the riff-raff.
Sarah, make no mistake about it, I AM the riff-raff.
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yeah, mtv isn’t really cool anymore. my spring breaks are only 2 days long now, but they do come once a week. i’ve been able to host wet tshirt contests, flaming limbo, and ‘stump carson’ contests in my backyard on consecutive weekends.