Welcome back, hungover masses. Wondering how your favorite bloggers spent spring break? Read on!
California’ famous in n out burger + mama Kotharis home cookin’ = a slightly chubbier version of your food & drink editor.
Went to Acapulco, and came back with a new obsession: saying “’09″ after every sentence. I know it’s annoying and egregious, but I can’t help it ’09.
worked on my thesis and ate dinner at 5:30 p.m. with grandparents. Listened to the following conversation at dinner:
Milton: Do you play tennis?
Milton: DO YOU PLAY TENNIS?
Harvey: Not since 1984.
Milton: Do you play shuffleboard?
Harvey: I dabble.
I stayed on campus to start a new job on Monday. A job from which I was then laid off, due to a funding cut, on Tuesday. So on Wednesday I got a new pair of Nike SB Dunk Lows, and on Thursday I gave a shirtless homeless man two dollars for saying, “You are one classy lady. I love them kicks.”
Addendum: On Friday I stepped on a mouse trap
I found a cheap copy of Destiny’s Child’s “The Writing’s on the Wall” at a used cd store and played it in my car all week. In other words: GREAT BREAK.
so we went to this trashy, cliche spring break bar
i had never seen anything like it before
there was an inflatable kiddie pool
and a mechanical bull
bikini contests, body shots
(i didn’t participate)
but i was standing when a fight broke out right next to me
and before i knew it
the guy next to me was hit
and he flew backwards
took me with him
i landed in a chair, miraculously, with this guy kind of on top of me
i got punched in the side
the chair turned over and i was about to get crushed on the floor until derek managed to grab my arm and yank me out of the way
but it was RIDIC
i was in the middle of a bar fight!
a real bar fight!
-Kerry Golds, via gchat
Watched season 6 of 90210. Realized I had seasons 8-10, but not season 7. Felt defeated. Sulked. Rediscovered love of crappy Canadian teen dramas. Still yearned for more Brandon Walsh.
Stargazed at an observatory and paintballed.
I spent spring break lounging around parks and coffee shops in three different cities, living the life of a hipster.
A week in LA! Sun, sand, and yet another city seen from the inside of coffee shops, frantically cramming for two midterms. All about the shots! (uh, of espresso), the beats! (soft rock), and the head banging! (mostly against tables). Thanks, chem department. (… Why am I premed again?)
Slept in a church basement in our nation’s capital, learned about urban poverty, talked shit about the Christian kids we were sharing the basement with, carried around a loaf of bread and PB&J supplies in order to whip up food for panhandlers we passed, sought out places to nap in public, killed a Vermonster, played A LOT of Mafia.
-Unnamed Street staffer
I went with my friends to Miami. One particular night we went to the beach, and as we were walking we saw a group of drunk high schoolers. One girl kept shouting “let’s play red rooover!” This was strange enough. When we’re walking back to the car, though, we notice two lines of people; in one line the kids are holding hands. The entire group of 15 was ACTUALLY playing Red Rover.
I was busy dodging kidnappers and having daily “guac-o-clocks” on the beaches of Acapulco.
Due to my mother’s fear that I would be kidnapped and/or beheaded in Mexico, I switched my plans last-minute and organized a trip to Puerto Rico in approximately 25 minutes. Stressful, yes. Annoying, yes. But Puerto Rico still has sun, booze, and boys, so my friends and I managed to act like Spring Breakers after all.
While everyone else headed off to Cabo and Cancun, I flew down to sunny Sarasota, Florida, and partied with the geezers. Sure, there may not have been afternoon body shots or raging parties, but do they have early bird specials in Mexico?
I was Hannah Montana for a week and got the best of both worlds: the beauty of glorious Florida weather and the dreary, still-cold climate of home in New York. When word got out that I had spent a few days in Florida, my parents’ friends used their oh-so-clever interrogation tactics to try to get me to admit that I had done Spring Break MTV-style: topless, unprotected (sunblock or condoms? You decide), and completely trashed. I got satisfaction in answering honestly, “I went to Disneyworld.” Then I showed them my temporary tattoo of Baby Goofy.