Finally it came. My very first Spring Break as a college student. The experience would be one to remember.

I left my dormitory in Montevallo at around 2:30 PM, with the intention of making it back to Auburn at 5 o'clock (on time for my delightful job at Chick-Fil-A).

I was cruising along I-65 South, and everything was going fine. I was jamming out to the new Beck CD, Guero. By the way: If you don't have this CD yet, you are missing out on my candidate for album of the year. I understand it's a little early, but it's just that fucking good.

Anyway, I was making my way, and everything was going fine until...



WHAM! Massive traffic jam. There I sat for the next hour and forty five minutes. My exuberance for the upcoming break quickly wore off when faced with this shitty turn of events.

After taking some back roads, I eventually ended back up in "the loveliest village on the plains." Unfortunately, I had to go to my job at "the ugliest strip mall ever conceived by man on the plains," TigerTown.



The situation was made worse by the appearance of this incredible moonrise over the azure sky in the spring dusk. I'm a pagan dammit. This is my night to burn potions and sacrifice vermin to the moon goddess. FUCK!



On my final approach into TigerTown, I noticed that we're getting a TARG! Yay!

I got to work, and endured hours of dish washing with no help at all from some Beauregard bitch. That's a vague term where I work considering that everyone is from Beauregard. Anyway, this girl was supposed to rinse and sanitize dishes after I washed them. Instead, she opted to go around tickling people and leaving me all by my lonesome at the sink. This wouldn't have been a problem were it the middle of the day. However, the store was closed and I was ready to go the fuck home and this stupid, braindead, Beauregard, whore was the only thing standing in my way. I didn't get out of that place until 11 because of that bitch. Soaking wet and angry, I made the drive home. I noticed on the way that I was experiencing that "I'm going to be sick in the next day or two" feeling (Throat scratchy, extra phlegm, etc).

Indeed, I woke up the next morning unable to breathe through my nose and a bit of a fever, I think, maybe. Anyway, I was kind of sick, it 5:30 in the morning, and I definitely didn't want to go to work at six. In the DVD that we watched for Chick-Fil-A it said "Even if you're just a little bit sick, don't come to work. Even if you need the hours." Well, I was a little bit sick, I didn't go to work, and I could care less about my hours. So, with that, I called Chick-Fil-A to send my regrets of my inability to work.

I slept so good for so long. Then, when I woke up, I found a surprise, a letter on my desk that read:

Dear Rivers,

We are staying with John and Georgia in Atlantic Beach, FL. Be back Tuesday.

Love,
Mom and Dad

Could my luck have been any better? No, no it couldn't have. Despite the sickness, I invited some friends over for a great time. Matt, Miles, Richard, and I had a nice dining experience at my house Friday night.



I stole some of my parents Smoking Loon Merlot. Despite what Paul Giamatti says, merlot is great. Matt said it tasted like earwax. Silly goose!



On the menu for the evening was Red Beans and Rice.









A good time was had by all.



After everyone left, it was time for bed. I took this heaping handful of medicine, and retired.

I woke up Saturday feeling a bit better, but I decided that there was still a possibility that I could accidentally land a phlegm bomb in the chicken nuggets via a sickly cough or otherwise respiratory disruption. So, sent my regards in for Saturday as well. Saturday brought together another gathering, this time at Casa de Kinnucan.

I found out that Trent has somehow locked himself and whatever motley crew of volunteers he can muster in as the house band for Project Graduation. We quickly banded together everyone who could play an instrument, and some who cant (Trent and myself) and formed what will prove to be the greatest rock band in the history of Planet Earth:



Comprised of a rotating door of talent, Spectacular Vernacular (Thanks to Sean-dogg for the name) had it's first jam session.















Suddenly, the fun came to an end:



Well, sort of. Actually we just hid the broken blade around the corner. I'm not really sure if Trent knows about this yet. If not, Surprise Buddy!

That night, it was time to get down to the get down at Trent's house. After a bunch of sketchy 10th graders left, things kicked into high gear.



Well, not really, but it was pretty fun all the same. Sean did some tubular drawings. (I know that's at my house, but I had to throw the picture in somewhere).

The highlight of the night came when Matthew decided that it was time to fry up some omelets. Enticed by the allure of said food, Miles quickly asked Matt to make him an omelet as well. Matt agreed, but not before putting expired pepperoni (at Miles' request) into the omelet. It's at this point that Trent and I entered the picture. We decided that what the omelet really needed was some PowerBar Carb Boost Apple Cinnamon Flavored Energy Gel. This is the nastiest shit ever devised by the minds of men. So we poured an entire package of that in there, along with the diseased pepperoni. Then, just to add a little zing, I put in some Dawn Dish Liquid Soap. By doing so, I overruled the objections of Matt, but, Hey, he didn't die, did he Matt? No. No he didn't. Anyway, we cooked the omelet and fed it to Miles. He ate the WHOLE FUCKING THING. The best part came halfway through the omelet when Miles said: "Did you guys put soap in here?" After the utterance, he continued eating. It was foul to say the least.

After Miles left to go sit on the shitter for what must've been hours, the remaining members of the party (that being Trent, Sean, and myself) gathered in the living room to watch television.





Trent didn't last long.

With the owner sound asleep, Sean and I moved in for the kill in the kitchen.



Unable to locate any acceptable food in the Kinnucan's vast pantry, Sean settled on some wheat germ which he found was quite acceptable, as per the look on his face.

Famished and still pseudosickly, I returned back to my big empty house.

Easter Sunday dawned bright and beautiful. Maybe not, I can't remember. I just know that we went to the creek one of those days, and I can't remember which. So, good enough!



Like I said, we went to a very swollen Saugahatchee. Here are the shots:















On the way back I noticed a roaming tribe of bedowins. It rocked... the Kasbah.

One night, the storm came. (At this point, I've lost all track of days, times, etc. Just bear with)

We were at Richards. Meanwhile there was a Macbeth-esque storm brewing outside. We decided to move it onto the patio to watch the lightning.



Chandler was so excited, he climbed a tree.



Then he realized he was in a tree... during a lightning storm.



He was okay after that though.

When it really started coming down, we moved inside. This resulted in an impromptu jam.









It was tons-o-fun.



It rained all night long, creating a knee-deep puddle in the middle of my street.



One day we went out to Kiesel Park and painted rocks.





Conor had fun.



There was even a nice sunset to cap off that particular day, whatever day it might have been.

One of the most notable main events of the break happened on the last day of the break, Sunday night. While putting up posters for the Green Lemon show (EARTHDAY: THIS SATURDAY DAVIS ARBORETUM 4:00 PM) I saw my acquaintance, Orange, working at The Wall Street Deli. He told me that Ryder was having a BBQ at his house that night. I had to go. I called up Caroline and Adam and we went.



When we arrived, Ryder greeted us with joy. He also uttered the funniest/saddest thing that I've ever heard:

Caroline: I'm planning to go to Southern Union for two years and then transfer to Auburn or wherever.
Ryder: My acne is getting better...

It was so sad... and yet, HILARIOUS.



He then started to play with cutlery.





Everyone was cooling out, when Orange noticed that I was taking pictures. A Kodak moment indeed, Orange grabbed the knife from Ryder and they posed for these pictures:





Yeah.



Orange is a scary looking dude. He's scary looking, but is gentle in reality.



This is one of the best pictures I've taken in a while.



Meanwhile, I improved my mad BMX skills,



Austin caught-up on some reading,





Ms. Tina rocked the hell out of a cowbell,



"No pictures please" says Chad,



Caroline showed me her crazy facial abilities,



Brian showed me why he's going to be the next Tony Hawk,



Chad showed me why he's going to be the next Les Claypool,



and Jose showed us all how he makes the camera work for him.



Then, some random dirty hippie showed up and stunk the whole place up with the overwhelming smell of B.O. Get a job you worthless piece of shit!

Unable to stand the intense odor coming from this lowlife, Caroline and I moved into Ryder's room.





When we walked in, Ryder was completely passed out on the chair in his room. He was non-responsive, but still breathing. I deemed this a good time to fuck with him:



Wow, I didn't know that Ryder liked to look at naked pictures of Ron Jeremy. Gross! (By the Way: You're welcome for the penis shielding).

The position he was in reminded me of something... What was is?... Oh yeah:



The Death of Marat







I began covering Ryder in tons of random shit strewn about the place. Then, I took the above pictures and then quietly (not that it mattered, the man was OUT) removed all the stuff.



Then, just to see what would happen, I began violently shaking the chair he was in. This gave us the scariest moment of the night when we thought he might have been dead. I shook the chair and Ryder just slid out onto the floor. Just when I was getting mildly concerned, he got up and hurled himself down on the bed only inches away from the chair. Caroline and I decided that we should start writing cryptic shit on his hands. I deemed this much more clever and hilarious than the usual dick and Swastika markings that typically show up on passed out people. So, I went to work:



"All the answers you seek are at 227 Ross Street." Ryder told me later that he actually contemplated visiting this address. I don't know if this is even a real address, but Ryder seems convinced that it's the police station.



REPENT!



I was particularly proud of the one on his wrist. The rose came out much better than I expected.

Realizing that 100 miles away, my 3:00 class awaited me the next day, I left Ryder's. I also managed to snag Bob Dylan's Bootleg Series Volumes 1-3 on the way out for burn and return purposes. When I came back last Thursday to give it back, it wasn't hard convincing Ryder that I hadn't stolen it:

Rivers: Here ya go.
Ryder: You fuckin' stole this?
Rivers: No dude, you said I could borrow it last Sunday
Ryder:...Oh, yeah okay.
Rivers: You were pretty fucked up.
Ryder: Yeah, ha ha ha.



So that was my Spring Break.

Sorry for the lack of update. I've been sort of busy. Well, actually I haven't. I'm just fucking lazy. Deal with.