the ghost of spring breaks past(alternative title: why i'll never be hired by anyone, ever)

Today I made a special trip over to my storage room (where all my belongings sadly remain since I’m totally super cool and live in my parents’ guestroom) to dig through a million boxes of crap, looking for koozies.

Yup, koozies.

And do you want to know why? Because it’s almost spring break, mfers!

Now, okay, maybe I’m a little too old for spring break, seeing as how I spent last year’s staring at this (while Mitch was off skiing in Breckenridge…yea, poured some salt into THAT wound, didn’t you, lover?):

NO.

That’s right. This time last year I was working in a soul-sucking job as an accounts receivable coordinator, something I’ve mentioned probably too many times, but whatever. Anyway, it was tough working for the man while all my college friends were off having the time of their lives since it wasn’t that long ago that I, too, was having the time of my life, PCB-style.

In March of 2008 and 2009, I road tripped down to Florida with fifteen friends and spent the week renting a house in Panama City Beach. A house with two tiny bathrooms. Shared by a bazillion people. It was, in a word, classic. You know all those spring break trips you see depicted in college movies? Yeaaaa.

When we went my junior year, in 2008, I had just turned 21 in the weeks prior so, needless to say, I was pretty excited to just be able to drink legally. Add on a trip to the beach with my friends and I was absolutely in heaven.

SBPCB08 jams: Sexy Can I by Ray J
I Run This by Birdman feat. Lil’ Wayne







It was a little on the wild side, I’ll admit, but truth be told, I don’t think it can even compare to the ridiculousness of SBPCB09.

Seriously.

There was booze, theft, regretful yet hilarious ice outs, dancing, and a variety of competitions, rewards and penalties. There were underground beer bongs, on-a-canoe beer bongs, duct-taped-and-hog-tied beer bongs, Lindsey’s-underwear beer bongs, running beer bongs, peeing-in-the-ocean beer bongs, and god, so many more. I spent most of my time drunk dialing my fellow Fish Camp counselors (note: more on Fish Camp at a later date) and leaving them messages like, CLINT, IF YOU DON’T ANSWER THIS PHONE RIGHT NOW, I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL CHOKE YOU, etc.

SBPCB09 jams: Kiss Me Thru the Phone by Soulja Boy Tell ‘Em
I'm on a Boat by The Lonely Island

pictured: bliss

pictured: utilizing a rape whistle while in a crowded outdoor bar

pictured: BFFL high-pour

pictured: dudes' top-ass picture. an absolute must.

pictured: dudettes' top-ass picture. not embarrassing.

To put it this way, last year I jokingly applied to be a castmate on Jersey Shore season 3 (duh, why wouldn’t everyone?) and when asked to describe my perfect summer weekend, I described instead a single day at Panama City Beach in 2009. Oh, and submitted a picture of myself doing a beer bong while wearing a bikini. And definitely got a call-back ("Girrrrrrl, can’t wait for your audition tape! LOVE your booty!"). So, crazy enough to interest the producers over at the Jerz? HEY-OH!

Maybe I shouldn’t post things like this since I’m in the process of trying to become gainfully employed?

Whatev.

Slash Mama, Dad, extended family…I apologize if you read all of this. I really am the nice, semi-normal girl you thought you knew.

I will say, however, that I have grown up a lot since 2008 and 2009. I don’t ice out with strangers or binge drink (on week nights, at least). And this year I have the exciting privilege of spending a weekend out at Harrison’s lakehouse with some very fun, adult-type friends, instead of spending the entirety of Spring Break 2011 working like a sucker. But the number one item at the top of my packing list (yes, I make packing lists, shut up)?

Koozies.