I hope vacation treated you all wonderfully, and as many of you have probably heard, I had an…interesting break as well. Aside from that, while I was on my break I tried to make the most of my time by immersing myself in different projects in Andover. I started out this magical vacation by forming a rock band called “RoofuS DeHernandez and the Flight of the Bumblebees.” The band was comprised of myself (vocals, rhythm guitar, and kazoo), Alex Thorn ’04 (lead guitar, bass, and tenor saxophone), my 2-year old pet Shih Tzu, Charles the Bold (percussion, pee), and Aaron Bardo ’04 (flute, piccolo). We recorded our first track, “Is It Snowing Or Is That Dandruff On Your Shoulder? (Cause If It’s Dandruff That’s Disgusting),” a rollicking country/folk/lounge mix that could best be described as – like the French say – “Je suis une petite chèvre.” However, while recording our next track (the steamy ballad “You Are A Pretty Flower and From You I Will Suck The Sweet, Sweet Nectar of Life”), problems emerged. Aaron, though an undeniable talent on the piccolo, was growing impatient with the recording progress. He had this to say: “Guys, everyone else is out there spending vacation partying, traveling, and hanging out with friends. We’re here recording a music album that is as sellable as Elizabeth Taylor’s liposuction remains, and we have a dog as a drummer.” “Percussionist,” I corrected. “Drummer, percuss… He’s a freaking dog! It isn’t even physically possible for him to play an instrument!” Charles got upset at this comment and peed all over Aaron. “He peed on me!” Aaron cried. “Well, urine is one of his fortes.” I replied. Aaron then stormed out of the studio. Thorn and I decided the album could not be the same without him, though, and Charles urinated in agreement, so the project was put on hold. After Roofus n’ the Bees (as our fans call us), decided to take a break, I realized I had a whole lot more time on my hands. I decided to call up all my friends in Andover and see what they were up to. I looked through my “lil’ black book” and realized I didn’t have any numbers in there, so then I went to my “big yellow book” and looked for some numbers in there. After calling everybody in the book from A-P, asking them, “Do you know me?”, “Is your refrigerator running?”, or “Are you my mother?,” I decided to get down to business and find some people I knew. I decided to call my classmate and arch-nemesis, Cassie Tognoni ’05. For those of you who don’t know “Cassers,” she is the fiercely Republican Commentary writer who gets really good grades. Compare her to me, a timid Democrat Features writer whose Chemistry teacher referred to him as “The Scourge.” Needless to say, the hatred between us is exceeded only by the sexual tension. So Cassie reluctantly accepted my call and agreed to meet me for a Final Showdown. We’re going to have a fight to the death, but walking over to The Final Showdown, I slipped on some ice and pulled a hammy, and Cassie was kind of tired, so we agreed on Scrabble instead. The Scrabble turned into The Final Showdown, however, when I told Cassie that “granola-crunching, Birkenstock-wearing, liberal” was not only not a word, but horribly politically inaccurate. She then scratched my eyeballs out. The Final Showdown was over, and thus, so was my vacation. (In recent news, the band has been talking about reforming, after an encouraging letter from a record executive, who had this to say about the band: “You guys are either really funny or very, very sick people. I don’t know—and I don’t think I want to know.” My eyeballs were surgically replaced, and I now have X-ray vision. “All the better to see you with, my dear.” Cassie and I have reconciled, and are going to start writing a new column in The Phillipian, “The smart, the beautiful, and the Scourge.)
