Even with my self-extended break, I knew I had very little time to accomplish all of the goals I set up beforehand. Naturally, I crossed out what I saw as the least important things on my list of Spring Break Goals, deeming them expendable for time being.
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After setting my priorities straight, I managed to find time for more significant endeavors.
■ Goal #1: Become the greatest fisherman this side of the Pacific.
I haven’t gone fishing since back in the day when I was 7 or so, so I was glad that some of the homies took me out to terrorize the ocean-depths once more.
But after hours worth of fishing, my night ended with a fish count of 0. Zip, nada, ZERO.
On the bright side, I did have a close encounter with a creature that resembled something like this:
Fortunately for him, I was caught off guard when he fell for the bait, and the creature was able to escape before I had a chance to reel him in. He escaped me once, but next time, he won’t be so lucky...
Result: 0 fish in 5 hours. FAIL.
■ Goal #2: Drink enough to acquire an iron liver.
Besides celebrating multiple birthdays, and drinking on consecutive days, my alcoholic-bound training program also included a round of playing Power Hour.
My urbandictionary.com definition of Power Hour: An evil drinking game conceived by the devil himself, which requires players to take a shot of beer per minute for an entire hour or until tapping out. One notable participant, CommanderCacho of coolkidsroom, has accomplished this feat on numerous occasions.
Even under the tutelage of Lance himself, I only managed to achieve a grand total of 33 shots prior to taking refuge at a toilet, or well, in my case, a plastic bag provided by Ray, before throwing up a Carl’s Jr. Chili Burger.
Result: Barely reaching the half-way mark of Power Hour. FAIL.
■ Goal #3: Become the newest crew member of the JabbaWockeez.
As Nazer mentioned earlier, television is finally back in business with fresh new content, although this previous void of entertainment was fulfilled for me thanks to America’s Best Dance Crew and its recent crowning of the JabbaWockeez as winners of season 1.
After being wholeheartedly inspired by them, and after a few hardcore sessions, I decided to test my skills and take it to the dance floor.
Result: Go clubbing downtown. Attempt to jock on girls using Jabbawockee moves. Look like an idiot. FAIL.
■ Goal #4: Become the greatest singer ever.
O.k. not really, but I just wanted to mention that Miss Ramiele Malubay finally got the boot on American Idol, after what her critics agreed was nothing short of an uninspiring series of lackluster performances. Either way, she's still an idol in my book.
Result: Ramiele Malubay, FAIL.
■ Goal #5: Become the next great baseball phenom.
With baseball season in full gear, my break also consisted of an unhealthy dose of baseball-related activities, including watching games across Major League Baseball, researching and tinkering with my fantasy teams, and enjoying the Padres opening week at Petco Park; highlighted by Jake Peavy’s should-of-been-a-shut-out complete game, and ending with Grandpa Hoffman once again showing his age.
Result: Attempt to prove my worth at the batting cages. Swing away and go 0 for 100. FAIL.
■ Goal #6: Lastly, catch up on movies I’ve been eager to see.
Namely, this meant finally watching the Oscar Winner for Best Picture, the movie No Country for Old Men such as Trevor Hoffman. I’ve been impressed with all of the Best Picture winners for the past several years, from Gladiator in 2000 to The Depated in 2006. Likewise, 2007 was no different.
In fact, I was so impressed with No Country for Old Men, that I decided to make a secondary goal of becoming a badass like the movie’s antagonist, Anton Chiguhr, played by Javier Bardem. Not surprisingly, Bardem won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor for his memorable performance as the psychopathic killer. However, I also figured that this meant I had to copy his stylish hair-do, in order to achieve such a level of badass-ness.
Even Hannibal Lector and the Terminator couldn't fuck with this guy.
Result: 0 fish in 5 hours. FAIL.
■ Goal #2: Drink enough to acquire an iron liver.
Besides celebrating multiple birthdays, and drinking on consecutive days, my alcoholic-bound training program also included a round of playing Power Hour.
My urbandictionary.com definition of Power Hour: An evil drinking game conceived by the devil himself, which requires players to take a shot of beer per minute for an entire hour or until tapping out. One notable participant, CommanderCacho of coolkidsroom, has accomplished this feat on numerous occasions.
Even under the tutelage of Lance himself, I only managed to achieve a grand total of 33 shots prior to taking refuge at a toilet, or well, in my case, a plastic bag provided by Ray, before throwing up a Carl’s Jr. Chili Burger.
Result: Barely reaching the half-way mark of Power Hour. FAIL.
■ Goal #3: Become the newest crew member of the JabbaWockeez.
As Nazer mentioned earlier, television is finally back in business with fresh new content, although this previous void of entertainment was fulfilled for me thanks to America’s Best Dance Crew and its recent crowning of the JabbaWockeez as winners of season 1.
After being wholeheartedly inspired by them, and after a few hardcore sessions, I decided to test my skills and take it to the dance floor.
Result: Go clubbing downtown. Attempt to jock on girls using Jabbawockee moves. Look like an idiot. FAIL.
■ Goal #4: Become the greatest singer ever.
O.k. not really, but I just wanted to mention that Miss Ramiele Malubay finally got the boot on American Idol, after what her critics agreed was nothing short of an uninspiring series of lackluster performances. Either way, she's still an idol in my book.
Result: Ramiele Malubay, FAIL.
■ Goal #5: Become the next great baseball phenom.
With baseball season in full gear, my break also consisted of an unhealthy dose of baseball-related activities, including watching games across Major League Baseball, researching and tinkering with my fantasy teams, and enjoying the Padres opening week at Petco Park; highlighted by Jake Peavy’s should-of-been-a-shut-out complete game, and ending with Grandpa Hoffman once again showing his age.
Result: Attempt to prove my worth at the batting cages. Swing away and go 0 for 100. FAIL.
■ Goal #6: Lastly, catch up on movies I’ve been eager to see.
Namely, this meant finally watching the Oscar Winner for Best Picture, the movie No Country for Old Men such as Trevor Hoffman. I’ve been impressed with all of the Best Picture winners for the past several years, from Gladiator in 2000 to The Depated in 2006. Likewise, 2007 was no different.
In fact, I was so impressed with No Country for Old Men, that I decided to make a secondary goal of becoming a badass like the movie’s antagonist, Anton Chiguhr, played by Javier Bardem. Not surprisingly, Bardem won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor for his memorable performance as the psychopathic killer. However, I also figured that this meant I had to copy his stylish hair-do, in order to achieve such a level of badass-ness.
Even Hannibal Lector and the Terminator couldn't fuck with this guy.
After applying some instant hair-growth gel and observing the results, I realized that I had no chance whatsoever of imitating his Beatles’ mop-top, as you can see here:
Result: A nappy-ass fro. FAIL.
■ In retrospect, I guess you can say my Spring Break fell short of expectations, as I failed to accomplish any of my goals that were more than easy to attain. Still, I suppose it was worth the fun and effort. Now that I look back, this post could’ve been the perfect compliment to the FAILURE homie edition, minus the pedophilic attempts and a ridiculously huge bump on the forehead. Now begins another lame attempt to get back into school mode; good luck everyone.
Best,
Adonis
■ In retrospect, I guess you can say my Spring Break fell short of expectations, as I failed to accomplish any of my goals that were more than easy to attain. Still, I suppose it was worth the fun and effort. Now that I look back, this post could’ve been the perfect compliment to the FAILURE homie edition, minus the pedophilic attempts and a ridiculously huge bump on the forehead. Now begins another lame attempt to get back into school mode; good luck everyone.
Best,
Adonis
