The Official Rivers Account*



Bryce Burnin'

I recently took a trip up to T-Town to visit my good bud, Richard on his last day inside "the heart of darkness" that is Tuscaloosa, Alabama.

We decided that it would be fun to visit an old haunt (no pun intended), Alabama Bryce Mental Hospital.

I'm sure everyone remembers this post about our first visit to the looney bin.

This time, however, it was just a little different. We tried to approach Bryce from the front as we always do, only to discover that the way is now blocked by two yellow iron bars. So, we had to get into Bryce via "the back way". This involved parking at a Baptist church, hopping a two foot fence, and walking down a long dirt road.



My Montevallo G, Jon Mosman, told me that a fire had occurred sometime last winter and destroyed large parts of the building. I didn't really believe it at first, but when I noticed this scorched window on the way in, I started to believe.

As we rounded the corner, this was the scene:



Compare:



The initial sight of the building's facade was surreal to say the least, but that was nothing compared to the scene on the inside.

Against my better judgment, I ascended two flights of stairs, to the epicenter of the fire The third floor attic. You all remember the third floor attic:



Well, check it out now:





Just a big pile of scorched sheet rock. Tisk, tisk.







The majority of the third floor is completely fucked up.



Richard whacks a piece of glass with a recovered sheet rock.

Of course, no Bryce-related post is complete without a graffiti update:



This dumbass tried to write "Help me" backwards like a ghost would, apparently. Unfortunately, he was too retarded to flip the "p" correctly, so it just says "Helg Me". Stupid shit.



Yeah!

...and the most beautiful one... EVER!:



MY MUDCOCK!

I have no idea what a "Mudcock" is, I just know that I want one for a pet. Or, maybe I don't. I have no idea. Modest Mouse should change their name to Modest Mudcock.



All in all, I think it was a fitting end to Richard's time in Tuscaloosa, and, as he put it, the experience was "dripping with symbolism".

Bus Bumpin'

Saturday was a day to rejoice. Trent's parents were out of town. As a result, we decided that Saturday would be a prime opportunity to finally knock out a project that's been on the to-do list for over a year. The project?



Sprucing up the old bus behind Trent's house. This was no small task.



Sean started off the project by declaring his love for WMD's: Waffles of Mass Deliciousness.



Here we can observe Trent and Sean getting up close and personal.



Chandler brought his dorky ol' girlfriend, Stephanie (Stefanie?), to the party. She was a blast and a half!



Adam meets a scary elf. Get a room you two!









All Hail BOOGNISH!



As you can, and, undoubtedly, will observe, everything went grandly. The bus truly became a tapestry of personality. Here are some of my fave creations:



Here is the flaming tapeworm by Rollie, with the flames by me. Check out those teeth. Yikes!



Trent stenciled-in a skeleton pirate unleashing a big-bosomed slug genie on an unsuspecting George Washington. I know what you're thinking, "Where do these kids come up with this stuff?" Answer: Mescaline. Lots and lots of fucking Mescaline.



Miles painted a "Watch Yer Ass" monster on the seat. Too cool for school, Fitzy-face.



Miles is Buggin' for some Mudcock, I assure you.



Conor fooled around with the mystical chrome shovel. Do you believe in magic?



Trent is so goofy.

Everyone was having a grand time, and everything was going smoothly, until...



Trent was emolated in a fire produced by way of orange day-glo posterboard.





After painting, it was time for a socialization session under the hazy glow of the garage floodlight.



Miles is so gay.

*A Note Regarding This Post:

If you're reading the post for the second time, you might have noticed a couple of changes. Well here's why:

It seems that, after almost two years, Trent finally figured that the passwords for Phoenix Rivers, Razdow, and my Photobucket were one in the same. I guess Trent decided that he was tired of waiting, so he went ahead and published the post for me. Fortunately, Trent didn't fuck me as badly as he could have. Thanks Buddy!

Since Trent was nice enough to spare me of what could've been a total disaster, I've decided to leave some of Trent's original captions; though I did correct his sub-par punctuation and grammatical errors. Also, I took out the captions in which he fellates himself.

By the way, Trent, I fucking hate it when people double space. Also, I fucking hate exclamation marks. You should know that!

Plus: Some Really Old Photographs



Friday was the worst day of my life for one reason: S.O.S.

As the above graphic (which Auburn University can thank me for later) indicates, SOS stands for "Successfully Orienting Students". This is Auburn University's orientation program for transfer students. Let me go ahead and send my condolences to all of you that will have to attend "Camp War Eagle" this summer. SOS was unbearable, but it only lasted eight hours. The thought of having to go to "Camp War Eagle" for three days makes this past year in the psychological clutches of Montevallo seem more than worth it.

SOS began at 7:45 Friday morning. That's problem one. I don't do 7:45 AM. I'll do 10 AM, maybe even 9 AM; but not 7:45. That's a ridiculous hour to rouse anyone, much less a bunch of college students.

That's another problem; the people at SOS act like I don't know where the fuck I am; as though it doesn't read: "Auburn" in big fuckin' letters on the nametag that I was made to wear. Hey, asshole, I've lived here since inception. Can't I just sign a piece of paper saying that this session will be a waste of your time and my money? Of course I couldn't do that, because then it wouldn't be a bureaucracy (the kind that sends you bills for $0.00 like Auburn has on more than one occasion).

So, like I said, the thing began at 7:45 in the AM; so, I don't really know what happened between the hours of 8 AM and 12:30 PM. All I know is that when I woke up for good I was in a meeting called "Living for Learning". This was a diversity meeting. The only reason I didn't fall asleep during this session is because I just happened to read the heading on the paper that was placed before me. It read: "I'm Not Prejudice But...". This caught my attention for obvious reasons. Truly, the assignment should've been called "Hey, Guess Who Among You Is A Bigot!" On the sheets were about twenty questions to which you were meant to respond by using "N" for never, "S" for sometimes, and "O" for often. After everyone had finished answering the questions on the sheet, the leader of the session would repeat each question. Then, in unison, the entire assembly would repeat their answer. If anyone said anything other than "never", the session leader would then call them out and make them argue their point. It was very hilarious to hear those backward hicks transferring over from Notasulga Bible College (which is a real place, by the way) try to defend their ignorant stances on minorities and homosexuals.

For instance, one of the questions was:

I become uncomfortable when a gay, lesbian, or bisexual person approaches me.

Some girl up at the front said the following:

"I don't know. I mean, maybe it's just where I'm from, but I think it's just , like, disgusting and I'm not comfortable talking to those kinds of people."

Wow, I can't argue with a defense like that. That's amazing, she's been in college for at least one year and she still isn't comfortable talking to gay people. Either she went to BYU, or she's a closed-minded bitch. I'm thinkin' the latter; but that's just me. Furthermore, said bitch was a "liberal arts" major. I would expect that type of shit out of business majors, but not liberal arts. The objective word is "liberal", you hillbilly hussy.

The best question of all, however, was this one:

I become nervous when I see a white male driving a large pickup truck with a gun rack on the back.

Seeing my chance to provoke a large audience, which I am want to do, I responded with a loud cry of "Often!". When asked to refute my answer, I said something along the lines of:

Well, in my experience, I've found that most people who have gun racks on their cars are usually angry drunkards with nothing to lose. If someone driving the pickup sees me in line for Taco Bell at 3:00 in the morning, and then sees my Kerry sticker, they might fly into a drunken rage and lynch me for being a traitor. I also believe that white people are the worst thing to happen to the planet earth... ever.

Gasps filled the room, those followed by sporadic bursts of laughter, and those followed by angry grunts and mumblings. Exactly the reaction I expected, and hoped for. That was the only really fun thing that happened at S.O.S.

The rest of the day consisted of lunch from Price's The Barbeque House, registration, and a walking campus tour. That was really helpful for me, let me tell you. I learned all about the history of Auburn. Did you know that after Auburn wins a football game, people go to a place called "Toomer's Corner" and throw toilet paper in a tree? That shit is crazy! What have I gotten myself into? LOL!

Also, I think our guide was just making stuff up. She said that Abraham Lincoln spoke at Langdon Hall. When did Lincoln find the time to come down to Auburn? He sure as hell didn't speak in Alabama during the Civil War. So, that leaves Mr. Lincoln about three days after the end of the Civil War to make a trip all the way to a town no one has ever heard of in war-ravaged Alabama of to give a brief speech and make it back to Washington in time for his date with destiny at the Ford Theater. Right, I'm sure that happened. Last time I checked, FDR and W The President were the only presidents to visit Auburn. I'm calling "bullshit" on that one.

Anyway, the thing lasted until about 3:30. Then I had to go to work until 9. It was a great day! Wink. Wink. Nod. Nod.

Now, as promised by the subtitle, I will now unleash some old pictures. These date back a couple of weeks. As you might know, I am terrible with dates and times, so if you were implicited in these situations, let your memory be your guide.









Ryder!





















All of the above pictures were taken during the simultaneous weekend outings for the birthgivers of both Richard and myself.

One night, we were just sitting around listening to Beck's new album, Guero, (IF YOU DO NOT HAVE THIS ALBUM YET YOU ARE NOT A REAL PERSON) when Richard made the observation that we always listen to music when we have get-togethers, but no one ever dances.

This gave rise to: (Just for you, Caroline)





DANCE PARTAY!

We danced at both Richard's house and mine. It was great; Guero dancing at my house, Green Lemon dancing at Richard's. Matt also made a good observation: When dancing for no good reason, it's best not to look at anyone else. That way no one feels like a jackass. I guess you shouldn't put pictures of the dance off up on the internet for the same reason; but if anyone calls me a jackass, I'll saw their arm off.

Speaking of Green Lemon, I attended the latest GL concert at Earthday 2005 held in Davis Arboretum at AU.