My spring is NOT broken......

Every year, come March, I find myself declaring "this is likely my LAST year to have a measurable amount of time off". OK, so it just happens to be in the spring, and I just happen to be afforded the opportunity to spend this time at a condo on the beach, and there just so happen to be stores within walking distance where one may procure airbrush t-shirts.  This isn't spring break.....I'm 28 years old......

Well, as goes for a spring, as well any other functioning part, it deserves to be severed if not flat out broken.  Why hello again, Spring Break.

It's more than likely you are not handed the torch of inappropriateness of a week-long spring break as this Olympian has been, but surely, you have taken full advantage of a day or two during this, the season of new beginnings, to misplace your face and put a stop payment on reality for a bit. If you haven't, well never-fucking-mind, no fucking chance those people would be reading this.

I threw my ball into the final cup in the grand prize game.  Lie down, Bozo, Malibu wins. As a smelly homeless man is given a penny into his cup, I was again, handed a spring break. Luckily, I've had many years experience with this privilege and I will not take it for granted. No, for I, Malibu, will use this week to sleep in until 10am, sit on the beach all day and consume countless plastic cups of beer by night......wait.......this sounds hauntingly similar to the "Spring Break" I spent 10 years ago.  OH YEAH!, shit doesn't change.

I had a fucking blast.  I spent the entire time with my creators. I went to a Tigers game, drank at 10 am, met a fucking Captain Jack Sparrow impersonator, saw sponges on a dock, reunited with old friends, witnessed coeds frolic, paddle board failed, Mr. Bucket, ate amazing food, failed to remember 99% of what awesomeness transpired over the past week....yup, it was that awesome.  My life is hands down fucking 12 inches......yeah, it rules.

This brings me to today, St. Pattys......whatever, I fucking rocked that shit.  Starting the day at the Undertow beach bar, with my best friend Lisa.....via Yoda-esque texts.....watching my love play vball, Green beer at Crabby's, celebrating Joey D's bday with a very special crew, and finally, deciding that I've found my new calling......and it's not what you may think.....I know many of you have been anticipating my career switch to sushi chef and/or stunt pilot......but that's incorrect......I think I'd like to try my hand at something different.....and if you are reading this and/or are genuinely interested, just ask me.......

Spring may have been broken, but it's definitely been repaired and poised to be broken again soon......

Not just a master of GL, but a master of baiting as well......

Many types of entertainment exist, television shows capture an audience utilizing a vast array of techniques.  A soap opera, for example, moves at the pace of a snail, updating ever so slowly, each and every day. Does that keep you hooked? Maybe. Do you need to watch it every day to keep abreast of the most relevant story line? No effing way. There are movies, with entertainment value that is immeasurable, and they either leave you voracious, or tempt you into believing a sequel is impending. Welcome to Maliblog, the antithesis of the Soap Opera. I've baited this hook with the human equivalent to catnip. Just when you thought I was going to keep a daily narrative of the ironic comedy that is my life, I go off the grid. How you like me now? Well, as you were just made aware of the Gasparilla debauchery, you now are aware of my re-emergence into the land of mundane life detail internet publication. Oh, hello there.

Gasparilla happened, in a big way. Luckily nobody lost an eye, so all the patches I bought were in vain. A progression of weekends believed to be insurmountable were born following that particular holiday. James Cameron I am not. Albeit Titanic at the time, retrospectively, perhaps not so much, so I will not subject you to every detail of these weekly holidays.

Shana had a birthday party, Boogie Nights, I realized another phobia of mine, roller skates.  I didn't fall, Molly did. Drew and Shelly vacationed in FL, rented a huge house on the beach. We had a weekend full of booze, bonfires, starfish wishes and sandcastle dreams. I had a SoHo outing with surprise Jazz bands/jazz hands, a Seth and Joey D reunion, complete with a call to Seth Rogen with Lisa Love. I made my way back to the beach. Hit some old haunts with Mollz, didn't fare so well. Returned to the beach, dominated the Tigers game. Commenced a completely inappropriate Spring Break, at 28 years old.......like sands through the hour glass, so are the days of our lives.......