Good?

Alright then.

When we had last left our Heroine, she had been stalking the grounds of the Univeristy 'O Florida for one glorious week out of the year, one glorious week out of our county's finest learning institution, and she, along with her oldest brother, had embarked on the glorious quest of gassing up the noble, '89, silver steed for a road-trip tour of northern Florida.

...For further reference, see the ancient texts.

So yeah. If I remember correctly, It had been monday, thw first day I'd arrived to Gainesville. The first three days had beem set aside strictly for lounging. Basically, waking up fully clothed on my bro's living room futon after a porno marathon the night before, crawling into the kitchen for a quick bowl of Lucky Charms and spending the rest of the day, my strained eyes super-glued to Manny's 21-inch monitor, concentrating on the PC space-game commando wonder Freelancer with the brainpower of a Jedi Master, while at the same time managing to both strangle a hapless joystick and concurrently drain out the bachelor pad supply of pop-tarts, straight from the box.

...

...I was just kidding about the porno thing.

...All of the REAL action started on Thursday, when former president Slick Willie, 'Ole Will, The Big Cigar, Bill Clinton decided to take the $80,000 dollar bribe from the campus president and give his speech there... Right in the O-dome. I saw the flyer tacked to a wall right outside the entrance to the student tennis courts and my eyes opened.

Whoa... The ex-U.S. leader and fondler of interns... HERE.

Why was I excited? Why did I even give a damn about Secretary Fingers?

...

Yes, you are quite right. ..I have never seen a celebrity of any category with these naked eyes.

I pointed out the flyer to Manny, and he nodded. "Great... So, you wanna go?"

My head did a double take, from the flyer to Mannys round face and back to the flyer. "Put away your college pot, Manny. We'll be farther away from the door than Alpha Centauri. ...This is the ex-PRESIDENT we're talking about. The PREZ."

Manny shrugged and turned away slightly, looking down the street for the bus. "...We just have to get there early to avoid the line, Stephy. ...If we arrive around 12, maybe, we can avoid the line..."

I peered over at him. "...You think so, huh?" I had many a doubt. He shrugged again. "I'm not making any guarantees. ...I... Aw, shit!"

"What? ...What?"

"...I have to work tomorrow."

"Shit-on-a-stick, Manny."

"I know, I know... Hrmm.. Let me think..." he looked down in debating thought.

"...What if... What if Christian takes you...?"

"Meh...?"

"You'll go to Christian's first class at 11:25, right? Then you guys can walk down to the O-dome and I'll meet you there after work."

I leaned against a light pole behind me and thought a moment. "...And timing, Oh, Wiseass?"

He smirked. "I get out at 2:30. You guys can reserve my spot in line... By that time the door will be closer to ya than Chip's old crotch-sniffing."

...

...Ah... but no such plan came to pass. Christian and I left alright, I'd doodled through his analysis class (Who was taught by a slightly more educated college version of Apu, minus the Ganesh tip-holder), and we headed down to the dome a little later than expected to see Clinton.

...

This, my friends, is SEVERE LACK OF PLANNING.

...Oh, you wanna see that again, do ya'?

Do ya'??

Originally, Christian and I hiked a mile, to the back of that line. ...I was getting a bit fidgety. ...It may just have been the creepily divine influence of the nearby Jesus picketer,

but my intuition told me at the rate we were going, we weren't going to get anywhere soon, least of all inside that dome to see Mr. Shag-adellic.

I poked Christian. "...Go see if you know somebody we can cut in front of." he agreed and set off, and I, sitting on his notebook, waited.

...And waited...

...And waited.

Twenty minutes had passed, But when he came back...SCORE! Chris had moved us up at least 3/4 of a mile up the line. Manny joined us around half an hour later, followed by Christian's woman Angelique, (whom we call 'Twiggy') a little while after.

We were all hot... and tired. An hour passed and they began filling up the dome. ...So, inch by inch, we crawled our way to the entrance. Only 9,000 were to be allowed in the stadium, and already there had been a good 5,000 ahead. The ending of this great tale?

...

...This... is how close we were, after three hours, when Mr. Campus Security turned around and said, "...Listen here, y'all! They're not lettin' anyone else in this building! Go on now and scoot yourselves home."

...

...Oh, the disappointment. You could've cut our repressed anger with a knife.

(Christian: Passive child of the clover, or raging mob-starter in hiding?)

There was nothing else we could do. So, we did what the ornery policeman who'd come up to Twiggy and Chris said and given them the death glare while patting his can of pepper spray had said:

...We moseyed ourselves out of there.

...I took a few snaps of the local wildlife, while sulking at the missed oppurtunity to see our highest scoring president in action.

...

(Squirrel one: "...The trap has been set in the heart of the human meeting grounds, Brown Leader." Squirrel two:" Excellent, Agent 9...Excellent. ...Now we shall see who cracks the nuts on this planet... *evil high-pitched cackles*)

(Unbeknownst to him, the lone squirrel had just eaten the Legendary Seed of Big Scary Knowledge, and was doomed to spend the rest of his torturous furred life as a higher life form...)

...

...And so ended our day. We went back to Twiggy's house to quickly pick up her swimsuit and a few edibles, then back to our fair castle for a wholesome dinner of grilled burgers and Bratwurst.

...

...We saw the President on NBC's news recap that night.

...Twiggy hurled a bratwurst bun at the screen.

...I never really liked politics anyway.

Friday. A day no different from any other. I'd fallen out of bed, gnawed on a few toaster-streudels, and spent the remainder of mid-morning with my eyelids on vacation and Freelancer flashing before my eyes like a pre-mortum vision.

Twiggy walked in around two. Her blonde head popped into my room.

"...Hey, Steph!"

"Oy."

"...Want to go camping?"

"Meh?"

"A Couple from work are taking their kids and SUV and heading for San Ferndanina Beach. ...They graciously invited me. ...and Christian. ...And Manny."

"Ehh..."

"Meaning, We're ALL going camping. ...Tonight."

Silence. Then...

"...Whoo!"

When he boys got home, I'd already had ten articles and clothing packed and a few toiletries. Manny walked into the room and threw down his backpack; exhausted. I peered at him. He recovered quickly enough and came to inspect my handiwork.

"...Where the hell're YOU going? ...Vegas?"

"What...? I call it insurance!"

"Steph. You're going camping for ONE NIGHT. Not on a Salvation Army mission in Bagdad."

I gave him a mock-defensive look. "...So sue me. ...Do I look like a wilderness child? ...The hell I've been camping before. ...You've got to prepare for these these things."

Manny smirked up a little at me. "...Neither have I. ...And you don't see me stuffing the entire Milan fall line in a Jansport, do you?"

Manny...Manny... so naive... So spartan-minded... I placed my hand on his shoulder.

"...Dear... Dear brother... How could you EVER know what's to happen out there in the wilderness...? ...Mayhaps you get lost among the trees and have only shoe leather for sustenance? ...Wouldn't it be more suitable for your palatte if you had a choice between pleather and suede?"

"The campsite is half a square mile. ...Next to the highway."

"-Or Perhaps I should come across a rather hot member of the male persuasion? What if he should casually invite me to wrestle among nature's mud? What then? ...There are outfits for these things."

"Ew."

"HaHa!" I threw up a hand of triumph. "Perfect example! ...The tent catches on fire! You've got no shelter or nothin' except for a cooler of beers and a wardrobe backpack! What then, Mr. Ingenuity?"

"..."

"Haha! I'll tell you what! It's called sleeping bag, bay-bee! Ha! Am I a genius, or what? I got'cher 'pack light' right HERE!"

Manny blinked. ...His hands reached into his pockets and he fiddled around a bit, eventually pulling out a small packet of matches. ...He tossed them at my face.

...'Motel 6.'

"..."

He glanced back at the backpack. "An outfit. ...And a toothbrush." He started to saunter into the bathroom, but stopped and turned half-way. "...Don't make me give you the Gas Chamber."

...I recoiled in horror at the thought of his baked-bean burrito poison filling the sealed tent, bringing my demise in the dead of night.

...His evil smile lingered in my mind... while I hurriedly unpacked three shirts and a pair of jeans.

So, hey... guess what?

...Did we leave that night? Nope. Not a damn inch was budged. Manny picked THAT oppurtune time to do a bit of 'maintenece' on the Soob, which ended up taking more than three hours, due to that stubborn antifreeze hose which wouldn't come loose. Twiggy and I had fallen asleep on the futons watching Dr. T. and the Women on lifetime. The boys walked in at 12:30. Greasy-faced, with wide proud smiles on their faces, because, as big macho men, they had just succeded on doing a big, testosterone-driven manly thing, and felt like ...Big... Strong... Men.

"So what was wrong with the car?"

Chris puffed out his chest. "...Leaky antifreeze hose!" I stared in disbelief. "...That's it?

Christian and Manny glanced back at each other and held up wrenches.

...What occured then and there, was only something I could only describe as out of a Jane Goodall documentary. ...With primal tools raised up high, the two dominant males proceeded to grunt and hoot excitedly, apparently throwing an extrvagant display of sheer, neanderthal-like masculinity.

...It was quite an impressive sight...

...

...Twiggy spoke up groggily, somewhat irritated. "...We're not leaving tonight." The boys were confused, so she explained that the parks closed admittance at sunset, and a two hour drive to the coast at this hour was STOOPID.

...

We did the next best thing.

...Gator Nights.

A brief explanation of Gator Nights: Fridays nights on campus, from roughly from 12:30 to two, where a very recent movie release is played in the campus theater, along with a full course meal in the student union.

The gang and I didn't bother with the movie. ..It was 'Freida', which I'd never heard of and wasn't in the mood to watch upon explanation.

Pasta and meatballs was on the menu. ...With lotsa, lotsa parmie.

...Ohh, mamasita.

We ate and left the place at one forty when it closed. By that time, we were stuffed, full of good Italian, and groggy from lack of sleep. Manny informed me that we were to wake up the next morning at five for the drive to San Fernandina.

...We woke up at eight. Armed with Manny's Power Shot, I ran downstairs after all of the stuff was loaded in the car and made like the Paparazzi.

(Twiggy bounces Christian an Old Navy ball whilst my brother watches.)

(As much as I would have liked to have been, I wasn't the only one recording that day.)

I climbed into the Soob while the rest were still upstairs, and threw photophobia to the wind, snapping a few of Yours Truly.

(My lips look unusually pink, don't you think? ...Must be the Chapstick.)

('Dat camera wuz all up in my beeznis, daawwg...)

(No, not a boob shot, but instead showing off my PRECIOUS Inuyasha t-shirt, which I'd just made that week. ...This is the first time I wore it, and couldn't be more proud. :D)

...

...There's still a WHOLE lot more to this story. Mom's cooking a roast pork in the oven, right now... it's waay too tempting.

...Goddammit.... look how much I've written...

Tune in tommorow, boys and girls.

[Disclaimer: The section about me packing ten articles of clothing is purely ficticious.

...

...I only packed 7.]