A Few Koozies Left

Don't Let It Pass You By! After GRADUATION how else will you remember some of the greatest days of college that you spent drinking more or less of you face off?

If you don't have one you're only lying to yourself...

$3 each, shoot me at waleslb@gmail.com to get yours today

I Love Thursdays

Not only does the weekend (officially, but not really) begin but TheWorldsBestEver.Com always has this:

*theworldsbestever.com

A Little Piece of Heaven

Feeling OLD

Being Back in Harrisonburg couldn't be more fun. I've liked seeing school friends* and class friends** as well as home friends***; however, being a senior, it has me feeling VERY OLD.

*kids you know from going here. you see them on the weekend when you party together.

**you talk about what your'e doing for the weekend Wednesday to Friday (in class). you say "we should get together, I know of a party, but never do. 3 or 4 times per semester you may see this person at a party. you either (a.) completely ignore them or (b.) go make drunken conversation where you strictly talk about the hot girl in class or how much the last test killed you.

***kids from home that you have known from highschool, or from freshman year that are friends of friends

Step Up Your Game Natty Light!

By far the coolest thing I’ve ever done...

I woke up early my 2^nd day in New Zealand. I made instant coffee and French toast. I put my bed (surfboard bag) away. I drove about 20 minutes out of town. I arrived to skydive. There was 1 guy there. The other was on the way. I tested out a suit and hopped in. The only guy there put the harness on me and started adjusting and tightening the straps. Quickly the man stepped back and looked at me in a confusing manor.

“Ah, I’m not even sure how these things work,” he added as he walked back behind the counter.

“Here we go,” I thought to myself as I gave fake laugh out loud. With the arrival of the other guy, I found out that the first guy was only the pilot. Slightly more relieved, I signed my death wavier liability and paid while I sipped on what could possibly be my final cup of coffee. The harnesses were fastened and we walked out back to the little plane and did a couple of dry runs on what would be happening. Within 10 minutes of arrival we were on the runway in the plane which didn’t have any other seats, besides of course the one for the driver. As the altitude rose I made a conscious decision that one day I would have “Pilot” on my resume. I could see the entire Bay of Islands now. I looked below during one of the steep turns. I enjoyed the view rather than processed what I was about to do in the following 5 minutes. I wish I was more scared. The “old LB” would have been. I tied my camera to a strap which I’m pretty sure isn’t normally allowed. We locked up before the door flew open. That was a noise that I’ll never forget. Holy Shit!

“Head out to the wing,” I was directed.

I proceeded. My eyes were as big as saucers and my stomach was inching north through my ribcage with an intended destination of my throat. I looked south through the clouds to the very hard ground below. I received a tap (meaning the go ahead) and we were off. This was a dream. Surrealism took over my brain and vision as “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” by The Who blasted over the sound of the intense wind zooming past my face. As memories can seem both “like yesterday” and yet “years ago” instantaneously, flying 120 miles per hour towards the earth can seem both like slow motion yet incredibly fast at the same time. Complete Elation...

The shoot was pulled and it all sank in. We were still very high up: cruising, flying, pulling the straps and doing turns. Although there was a huge man of 6’4” and well over 200 pounds, I couldn’t tell. I was free.

4 Year Party

I am entering the last quarter of the 4 Year Party called College. Ole' Mr. James Madison has treated me very well. After a conversation with a recent JMU graduate, who currently has a 9-5, I feel inspired and compelled to carry out what are now his dreams as I know that he will be living vicariously through my stories.

We shall rage... We shall go out even though we have a test the following day. We shall make bad decisions and momentarily call them regrettable. We shall stay up late. We shall cram for tests. We shall only drink 2 beverages: coffee and alcohol. We shall wake up confused, we shall wake up very, very confused. Although, I do not have much intention on landing a "real" job, I do intend on taking full advantage of college and the art of partying in every respect.

School in a Week!

There are only three things I'm going to miss

1. sand in my bed
2. my dog
3. free food

I mean how cool is college? You constantly get to make bad decsions in a playground built for irresponsible freshly ex-teenagers and without parents, there is no one to tell you to do otherwise. The most important thing that you have to do is take a test for 1 hour or write a paper that is 5 pages. That is it! Life is good, Life is oh so good.

JMU, Here I come.

HST VS. LB

* http://www.anticlockwise.com/images/hstssc.jpg

"We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug-collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge. And I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon..."- HST

I had 2 surfboards, 1 backpack, an 8 foot coffin boardbag with 2 broken wheels, over 28,000 miles to go, 1 camera, 1 deck of cards that was full to my knowledge, a whole galaxy of multi-colored stories to come: uppers, downers, screamers and laughers and also, 1 nalgene bottle, 3 pairs of trunks, 1 rusty knife, a growing 5 pound sack of dirty clothes, a limited bank account, and 1 tube of zink oxide. I needed most all of that for the trip, but once you get into a personal core-score battle the tendency is to push it as light as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the bank account. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a poor man in the depths of a surf travel spending binge. And I knew I’d get into that rotten stuff pretty soon...

If JMU Had A Beach, I'd Never Leave!

Surfing Related Summer Saga

Being bored, I agreed to go sit at the beach and attempt to surf the 8 inch waves that plague the Eastern American coastline every summer. It was Friday at 1:30. Which is an illegal time to surf in Virginia Beach unless you are surfing at 1st, 4th, or Croatan beaches. It is also illegal to surf without a leash at all times. There was no a body in the disgustingly murky waters within 100 yards of either side of my location. I had a beer and entered the water. After paddling around for 35 minutes, I noticed that the end was near. A police officer and his lackey were filling up their running shoes with copious amounts of sand and their head with ego as they flagged me out of the water. I was asked in a sarcastic manner how I could pass my surfboard to my friends with a leash on. I cracked an "are you kidding me?" grin and laughed with a hint of devil. I was asked if I had read the sign at the entrance of the beach. I provided the same reaction. The other guy was being annoyingly nice to the police in an attempt to get out of the ticket. The "yes sirs" and bullshit talk was getting him nowhere. I watched him drown as he gave the officer his details. I sat down and waited for my turn.

I was the complete opposite. I made it as hard for the officer as possible as the tone ego in his voice made words seem almost foreign. I gave him my information. He didn't believe me when I told him that I didn't know my social security number as he shouldn't. He had to call it in and asked for my descriptors over the phone.

"Ok, so he's saying he's 5'11" and 165, that check out?"

I laughed again, being correct.

"Ok, well I have your social if you want it. You might want to memorize it, so no one can steal your identity."

"How can anyone steal my identity if I don't even know it myself," I jolted back.

The officer was frustrated as he stumbled over some non important words handed me hundreds of dollars worth of tickets and walked away, leaving other surfers in the water just blocks down. I walked back to the cooler, cracked a cold one, and recounted the moment before. I complained about being poor to whoever I talked to when I drove home.

I walked in the door and browsed through the mail. Ah, a letter. I opened it without a tool only to find a speeding ticket that I received in New Zealand. I guess my handwritten letter of persuasion about a fake meeting with the admissions office with a graduate school program wasn't believable either, as it shouldn't of been.