H-O-T-T-O-G-A!!!!!!!! (smileyjess)

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that extra special once a year event has already come and gone. I can hardly believe it myself, I know. Those of you who were there, know the amount of great fun and debauchery experienced by all. If only we were able to dress in togas more often�.

In the briefest of recaps, I offer you the following:

<3 band geeks <3

pat, aka �the king of lsa� has returned to the mother ship. It was good to have him back, we were lacking a proper sax solo during watermelon man. (Please take note of the hat. The hat story will come later. I need to gain proper composure so as to recount the tale of the regatta cap.)

T-2! The ever- fabulous Katie and Joe duo.

Two claps for Corey getting into Emmanuel! Two more!

It was like my own personal gun show��

A surprised will and a profile shot. (::Drools over Stratocaster::)

Corey thrashing, most likely during Sing cubed.

King sophomore. Er, junior.

Once the game was over, off to Rock �n Bowl we went. These were the hottest shoelaces ever. You can�t tell in the photo, but they glow in the dark and are, therefore, amazing.

Our team was: Charles (Char), Qwerty (Corey), The King (Pat), Nickelodeon (Nick), and Cokey (myself. It was originally dubbed due to my strong affinity for coke, the refreshing beverage, but it was later deem that my love of the narcotic was far more fitting.)

*THE* hat. Okay, now, every day that patty takes me to and from school, I have automatic shotgun. Like, it�s just assumed. Now, Pat decided one day to demand a ride home. He lives on the other side of Cranston, I might add. Okay, fine. I can deal. But he then proceeded to claim shotty. (Bitch.) I, the ever graceful friend I am, permit him to assume my throne. (Albeit a bit grudgingly.) Randomly, on route 10, Pat decided to stick his head out of the car window, thus losing his hat. Now, I, quite frankly, don�t give a fuck. Shucks, lost hat, okay, let�s go, I have to go home and take a nap. But, ohhhhh no. Turns out the hat�s from some regatta in Key West and is worth a shitload of money because they only make like, 10 because only the members of the winning team receive one. So what do we do? Take the next exit, turn around, take the next exit, turn around again, and pull over in the breakdown lane on route 10. route fucking 10. And we weren�t really even pulled over as much as just stopped temporarily in the right most lane. Pat jetted, retrieved the filthy, disgusting, hat buried under a pile of slush next to a snowdrift. *This* is me wearing the hat that he never would have lost had he not DEMANDED my shotgun position. (I repeat, bitch.)