And just like Spring Break has come to an end. You wake up asking yourself questions like “Whose clothes am I wearing?”; “Is that tattoo real?”; and of course: “Now where did I put the toilet, because I am going to hurl?” Now, if you have asked yourself any if not all of these three questions then I can assure you, I remember my first time spending a week with my grandparents.
Over the course of spring break, there were great moments for meditation, relaxation, partying, and all the while your homework you were so steadfast on doing remained perfectly spotless resting on your desk the entire time. It was more a break for your books than anyone else, right? After all that opening and closing of books, they finally needed a break anyway. When you think books need a decent level of repose, then you know you’re an idiot. When all you have to show for Spring Break is a prison tattoo and a marriage license from Guam that you hope will be disbanded in the U.S. and your first thought is “Oh my God! I forgot to read my books!” then at least you are on the right track. Especially now with that prison ink, some hot smartypants will think you are a total badass and will want to help you every step of the way.
Upon returning other students have been seen driving back to campus with the puke bag from the airline still hanging around their neck, not as a trophy, but as a safety hazard for all their clothes and their car along with rosary beads to pray that the next instance does not involve projectile vomit. After three days, you begin thinking if the street side taco in Chile was worth it. You knew you were outside of the tourist traps and wanted to experience the “real” country, and though you are done exploring Chile, it would seem by your new puke necklace that Chile is not done exploring you.
Spring break was also a week of holidays as Hofstra always tries to observe for its uber religious students that refuse to use the Torah as a napkin and fart on the Bible before ever engaging in sexual intercourse. For those of you who celebrated Easter and Passover during spring break, I would personally like to take the time and say “Awe! What a fuckin’ momma’s boy!” You are cute. To all the Jews that discovered Manischevitz wine and realized it tastes like grape maple syrup, I say “No worries, my friends. I see a lovely Natty Ice in your future to water down that taste.” To all the Christians that celebrated Easter, I can only still sit in my room pondering in my bed of empty Manischevitz bottles how anyone thought of a bunny crapping eggs.
Pleasantries aside, I hope everyone back at Hofstra is fully prepared for the next four weeks. If you have made it thus far, chances are you have become a zombie like everyone else on campus. No, Hofstra v. Zombies is not having another game (that I know of), but it won’t stop everyone from walking around campus like members of the undead. Eyes will have bags on the bags underneath them, heads will hang like Bernie Madoff’s diploma (i.e. with shame), and everyone shall moan “Braaaaaaains…and coffeeeeeeee…I need brains and coffee to write this God damn paper that will not just write itself and I hope my professor burns in hell for all eternity when they die for assigning it in the first place. The weather is so nice for Christs’ sake. The dude died for my sins, and now I am stuck here being the failed philosopher’s paper bitch. Damn it!” For those recovering from week-long hangovers, acid trips, and highs, I humbly wish you an easy four weeks, and like you, will be praying for the Redbull girls to show up every day from here on out bearing free carbonated energy for us all. For those who did not do anything for Spring Break except homework and hang with your family, the best I can do is remind you that you are a pussy. No! Not a cat. You know what I mean, and this article will not have an asterisk to explain shit.
Dramatization of Spring Break Aftermath
