If I get Diarrhea, can I say I went to Cabo for spring break? That’s the question I’m asking myself as I sit here at my computer.My stomach is grumbling, I’m sweating profusely,and I’m fairly certain even my dog, who was rolling in shit outside 5 minutes ago, just ran away from me due to the smell radiating from my body—this is my spring break 2015. To no surprise, all of my friends including my girlfriend, went off to amazing places around the world for their vacation, and when I say amazing, I of course am only talking about Cabo, Cancun, San Diego and Las Vegas.
Yesterday, instead of fulfilling my fantasy of going on a real spring break vacay, I returned to my small hometown in the mountains;alone. Yes, the serenity of it all is overwhelmingly amazing. My small house in the middle of the woods, the fresh mountain air, the pouring rain hitting the windowsill as I fall asleep—is taking the place of ringing eardrums from standing too close to the speakers, seeing double, throwing-up from raging, and of course watching my friends try to pick up the ladies, which is always the best part, since most of them are as suave as a blind rhinoceros trying to get it on— it doesn’t end well for the female unless, of course, she’s into butt stuff. Although I love it here, no hometown country song is going to convince me that I don’t belong in a place that’s above 20 degrees Fahrenheit—sorry if that offended you, Eric Church.
As a simple rule of being a college student who doesn’t drive a Prius, I like to have fun, and on any other occasion I would have gone to join in the festivities. I would have out drank everyone, partied harder, woken up earlier, never have had a hangover once, and as expected, been the life of the party—but not this time. Instead, I decided to come home and see my mother who had a surgery earlier today. Luckily and thankfully, the surgery went MUCH better than expected, and my mother is going to have a swift recovery! On the flip side, I am now stuck at home, alone, about to shit the ol’ beef stew; without even having a sunburn to go along with it. To really take me down a notch, my mom and dad decided to stay the night in the city and party, to show me that even their spring break could be better than mine.
So why am I now sick? I had to cook my own food, and being as I’m broke, I cooked the steak that has been in the fridge for who knows how long. Now, I’m watching Snap chats of pure, exploited, dirty beer bonging tequila fun, whilst I sit alone in agony. Don’t believe me? I just used the word whilst in a sentence…
From a college student begging for a good time, this is my plea to any multimillionaire, billionaire, or MTV like media, who is looking to hire someone to go report or write about spring break 2015. What I mean is, pay for me to have a good time, and I’ll write an article that even Stephan Hawking will get a aroused by. So, if you’re a large conglomerate news station looking for a reporter or writer to cover the rest of spring break, or simply an old man who wants to live vicariously through me in return for paying for my trip, send me an email and about $2000-$100,000 (that should cover it) or one of those spring break packages. My spring break ends this week, so although I’m sure the line to hire me will be as long as that at any porta-potty at a Luke Bryan concert, you better hurry because I’m taking the best offer. That is all.
Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org and we’ll work out the money wiring and package deals.