I Wrote This

Nov 21, 2005 18:30

Bold is actually Burton. Writing my own would be pointless. You get the idea.

So, another year, another class trip. Philadelphia. Good ol’ Philly. City o’ Brotherly Love. Also known as the City of Gay Incest...but that’s only if you take it extremely literally. Good Stuff.

Philadelphia was the best class trip we’ve ever had. I loved walking through the vast campuses of these colleges that I am seriously considering going to. I absolutely loved the tours of Philly; the one on the top of the bus was especially fun, even though it was raining frozen death. I liked the one on foot, because really, who wouldn’t want to walk around an entire city, strip naked to see a cracked old bell, and watch some creepy dude tell you about Independence Hall? Nobody. That’s who. I also loved our meal the first night. The selection was vast and fantastic.

Well, now that I got that out of the way, I can tell you all the REEL DEAL. Philly, in a word, sucked ballz. Okay, that’s two words, but actually, technically “ballz” would not be found in the dictionary and thus is not a real word, so “sucked” would be the only actual word there, and my “in a word” still stands. But I digress.

I was all pumped for the class trip on Wednesday morning. I arrived at the parking lot to a murder of my adoring lady friends shouting my name with glee. I had bought Mario Kart DS the day before, was stuffing my mouth with doughnuts, and [insert other example of how pleased I was in order to complete this thought]. I quickly took my usual spot on the Jock Bus, and was instantly hit with a ten-ton wrecking ball of good luck. The Jock Bus had a working DVD Player. Can you say nonstop Arrested Development marathon? I think you can. Go ahead, say it. Out loud. And chuckle to yourself as your family gives you odd looks.

So the trip was off to a good start. A damn good start. A damn, fucking good start. A GODDAMN, MOTHER-FUCKINGLY AWESOME START!!!! HOLY FREAKING GOD, REMINISCING ABOUT IT GETS ME SO PUMPED!!!! RAAAAAAGGGHAKLJ:SALK!!!!!

Sorry.

Bus trip was le shit. I dominated in the MK (that’s street-lingo for Mario Kart) tourneys, although that’s not what David Mott and Squid will tell you, but only because they’re FUCKING POSERS. We got through about 5 or 6 episodes of AD (that’s street-lingo for Arrested Development) before a pride of ugly bitches in the back apparently couldn’t take any more brilliant comedy and made us turn it off. LUCKILY, THEY REPLACED IT WITH SOMETHING EQUALLY GOOD (IF NOT BETTER): SCARY MOVIE 3!!!! It’s people like that that kind of make me want to take a newborn infant, bash its head against a rock, and then bash said blood-soaked rock over the heads of every single AD-hater this side of the Milky Way galaxy. But I mean, hey, if you don’t like it, that’s cool too. Doc-O didn’t like it, and look at him. Still as coool as can be. But I digress. Was on a seperate bus. It was boring.

One would think that our first logical stop would be the hotel. BUT NO. We don’t get time to unwind, we get time to wander aimlessly around the LaFayette campus. Aimless in that we had a tour guide...you know what, I really have nothing humorous in the least to say about this. This tour was just boring as fuck.

Oh yeah, um...clever inside jokes that people who were hanging around me probably won’t even remember: Brett STROUSE! That FREAK whose eyes followed you no matter where you went...the panther leaping from out of the bushes (which was actually a leopard)...and nothing else, really. College trips are surprisingly lacking in the funny department.

But it was all good, because we got to have some ssssscrumptious treats at this Philly Cheese Steak place. The choices were: philly cheese steak, veggie cheese steak, and/or a soda. MIND-BOGGLING. So many things to choose from, and so little time. Although that’s just the thing: we were there for EIGHT MILLION FUCKING HOURS. So to pass the time, we did what any mature, self-confidant group of individuals would do in a situation like this:

ARM WRESTLE.

I chose not to participate (I didn’t want to make Pritch and Big Al weep), and instead chilled with Gavin, Lexi and Guinto, wherein we thought back to days of yore in which I ran screaming from Lexi at the school dances. Back then I was popular. ...heh

...

So this tour bus didn’t come, like I said, for a while (EIGHT MILLION FUCKING HOURS--see above), and after the final showdown between Big Al and Pritchard the AWT (that’s street lingo for Arm Wrestling Tourney) came to a close. So I did (lemme think) absolutely nothing. No, that’s a lie. I quoted Dane Cook with Sarah Naughton and Naji until my anus started bleeding, I participated in handclap games once the entire class was doing it (GD [that’s street lingo for Goddamn] peer pressure), and I mocked the way “bleu” was spelled. Did I mention this trip was a blast?

Finally, the bus came, and the best part of the night could begin. I get on the bus and I see little packages on all the seats. PONCHOS!! I think to myself, PONCHOS ARE AWESOME!!! So I grab one and hurry (I don’t remember the logic behind this part) up the stairs to the top deck on this double-decker bus. I quickly put on the poncho to look like a fly muthafucka (I did) and got a seat next to Nida. I figured that even if it did start raining, the protection from my coat as well as my poncho would protect me from it (it didn’t). So I think it was when I lost all the feeling in my upper body that I started to tune out the tour guide and attempt to keep warm. Me and Nida were huddled together (with Big Al at some points...which was...weird), but we STILL couldn’t keep this GD (you remember) rain off. I’m telling you man, this rain was fuckin’ out to GET US. It was like the wrath of POSEIDON, GOD OF THE SEVEN SEAS. On a seperate note, I was on a different bus. Therefore, our experiences were different. For example, our bus was somewhat covered, but Naji and I went into the rain and slicked back our hair, taking on our alter-egos, Giovani and Vincenso. Joe really loved that. Also, after running up the Rocky Stairs (the stairs that Rocky ran up), we ran into some girls filming My Super Sweet 16! or something like that. Or at least they convinced us. Anyway, Naji and I yelled at Velthur for looking crazy, pretended to see Allen Iverson, and screamed at random passerbys...all in all a fun filled and wet night (wet).

Suddenly, nobody was listening to the tour guide anymore and we were all screaming our lungs out for somebody to SAVE US FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. I was attempting to stay alive by yelling about analrapage and fogging up my glasses to look like Elijah Wood from Sin City, and guess what the tour guide said to us after the tour was done: WELL, YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN REALLY GREAT. HAVE A GOOD TRIP, AND GOOD NIGHT! Rings true for both.

WHAT?!?!

WAS HE ON FUCKING CRACK!!?? I can’t believe he kept his cool as long as he did. Were I in his shoes and I had a herd of kids as asshole as we were, I would’ve knocked all of their skulls out and used their flesh for warmth against the harsh wrath of Poseidon. Damn, this is a pretty intense entry.

Anyways, we can all barely move but we don’t get to get off the bus yet, thankfully! We were chastised for our behavior on the top (at least someone noticed what dicks we (read: I) were being. (On second thought, don’t read “we” as “I”, because “what dicks I were being” doesn’t make any sense. GD grammar, ruining my punchlines (I’ll punch your lines!) ouch.

That night, in our room (I got da hookup wit Burton, Big Al, and mah man Jerry), we found out that we could open our windows really wide and that there was no screen, so we got totally trashed and thought we could fly, so we jumped out the window MAN WHAT A FUCKIN RUSH! After we lulled Jerry to sleep with Family Guy and Harvey Birdman, the real partay could begin. Burton pumped up his “Stripping Beatz” playlist on his iPod and we rocked that suite like it was sweet. Word. It was hott in thurr, if you catch my drift. If not, WE HAD ANOTHA STRIPFEST. ‘05, BITCHEZZZ. And I know what an ass I was last year, providing you guys with that false hope of the video of me, Burt, and Ryan stripping....so this year, we actually brought a camera, and I actually made a video, and I’m actually not kidding. You will notice that I did not use the “/sarcasm” HTML tag. Here’s the link, ladies (and Gavin)...enjoy: http://media.putfile.com/Burton_Rob_BigAl_strip18

It was glorious. Simply glorious. I really almost jumped man, I swear I was gonna' do it.
I’ll wait for you to get back. Don’t hurt yourselves, guys.

You back?

Okay, cool.

SHIT!
(Dun, dun)
NOTHING MAKES SENSE!
(Dun, dun)
SO I WON’T THINK ABOUT IT!
(DUN!)
I’LL GO WITH THE--sorry, broke into a li’l Say Anything there. But hot dog, the breakfast was flyyyy. Donuts and bagels is all I needz 2 be happy. Word.

I don’t remember what we did that morning. I guess Penn was first on da list. Um...I have nothing at all to say about this. Really. Uh, looks like a good school...I guess...I won’t be going there, so...whatever. Next, up:

THE SECOND TOUR OF PHILLY: THIS TIME, ON FOOT.

Can I get a hip-hip?

Hoo-ray.

Word.

Our tour guide ripped on the tour guide we had last night for a bit, then we, um...went to his house. No, I’m not kidding.

Random quotes from this tour that I’m sure SOMEBODY will find funny:

“I LOVE justice!”

“FILBERT STREET, GILBERT!”

“Look at him waddle.”

That’s enough of that. This tour was teh suck, in every meaning of the phrase (there aren’t many). At least it wasn’t teh suckier than the “Day After Tomorrow” rip-off tour from the previous night. As I said earlier, we got to take off all our clothes to see the Liberty Bell...and may I say, TRULY a life-changing experience . We were there for all of what, eight picoseconds? As Gilbert said...there’s nothing great about worshiping shoddy workmanship.

We also saw Benny F’s house, which, as Burton so Very astutely pointed out, must have been really cold in the winter, due to its lack of any walls whatsoever. We then went underground to view an Oscar-nominated biopic of Benny, with brilliant acting and narration...just a joy to watch. Truly. Then we went in this room where there were a ton of phones and you could call all of these historical figures (none of them answered...must’ve been because they DIDN’T FUCKING HAVE PHONES BACK THEN). Then we did...something. I don’t really remember.

Oh yeah. We listened to this really creepy guy tell us about (what did they call it?) Independence Hall. I wasn’t listening, bad@$$ that I am, so I honestly have nothing to tell you about it. You were all there anyways. Why are you even reading this? There’s no way you have this much free time. Whatever.

After we left (what was it called?) Independence Hall, we were early for our Hard Rock reservations so we got to go...SHOPPING! Like, TOTALLY!! We hit up EBGames where I bought a hardcore copy of Tony Hawk’s American Sk8land, then crashed KB Toys bcuz we roll like dat. Word. After Squid was done buying his dolls, we saw this awesome rotating cabinet thing...fuckin rocked. We had an in-depth argument about whether “f.y.e.” should be pronounced “fie” or “fyee” (we are loserz), then we went back.

Hard Rock was hella tight. Word. Not really, but I always wanted to say that. I loved how the faucets would turn off in the guys bathroom , and that inSANELY random dude that Jenny Pearson brought in from like, the streets or something. Was creepin’ me out.

Then we got to shop at this other street (YAY, SHOPPING!! TOTALLY!!!). First stop: Retro clothes store. They should’ve hung a sign on their door that said “For Ballers Only,” because that’s what this store was: For Ballers Only. I found some sick cowboy and horse-riding hats that wouldn’t fit on my fatass head, some oldschool VHS tapes and NES games, and Burton found this sick shirt about a Drug Legion or something. But alas, it did not fit him. So we moved on to a place WAY cooler: the comic store.

NOTE: Due to the extremely revealing nature of this paragraph, this overly-geeky passage has been removed at the request of the editor.

And that’s why that whore will NEVER be the same again. Haha..man. Good times. That’s probably the craziest paragraph I’ve ever written. Woooohoo.

We found this incredibly wrong store that sold CANDY on the bottom floor and LINGERIE on the top floor. Then we went to Tower Records to score some WEED.

What?

I don’t even know where I get these things.

Next, me and Burton began our quest for the bathroom. But every...fucking...restaurant..in Philly...says you need to be a customer to use the GD bathroom!! RAGGGGHHH!!! LET’S BURN THIS MOTHER FUCKER DOWN!!!!

So we spotted Naji and Guinto in Jonny Rockets, pretended like we knew them (as if) and used the bathroom. It was so suave. After that, we passed a store so cool it had no name...it had neon lights under all the displays and looked like it came from the future. Someday, I will work there. Then I spotted my sanctuary. My kingdom.

My CONDOM KINGDOM.

What a crazy place. Nothing like some edible thongs, Mac-a-weenie & Cheese, and inflatable sex dolls to brighten up the night. Passing Jonny Rockets again on our way back, we ended up singing and dancing to “Stayin’ Alive” in front of it. It was HARDCORE!!! Til Salter came and started laughing at my dancing. Dirty old man.

Then we switched into JETS/SHARKS mode and snapped and dance our way back to the rendezvous point. From there, me and Burton lay down some sick “Stayin’ Alive” harmonies via whistlin’. Word.

So then I could talk no more...and we went to LeHigh and it was dumb. And we rode home. The ride home was fun, I got to chill with some highly cool peeps, and I actually didn’t fall asleep. And now I’ve finally seen Liar, Liar all the way through and it was pretty damn good.

And that’s our trip. Seven pages of nuthin but da trooth. CAN YOU HANDLE IT?!

NO!!

YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!!!

I am out like O-Town. Word.

P.S: How’d you like that link, bitches???

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I guess it had it's moments.
...heh.
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