Holy shit I smell like a drowned water buffalo. Let's start fromt he beginning shall we? The plan: Set out Friday night camping in the middle of nowhere desert. Saturday: Dunebuggy the day away and head to a desert rave/underground party called Slinky in the evening and party till we drop. Sunday: I come home because I have school Monday morning and I'm a good little boy. - Friday 4 o' the clock post meridian (PM), close shop early. Friend Phil arrives at approximately 4:30PM to pick me up after I pack my shit. We endeavour to get groceries, make final adjustments to newly rebuilt dune buggy, and pick him up some herbage. Remember kids, plan is a just a list of things that don't happen. We then can't find the map site to the waypoint to find the rave so we go to a friends house to look for it online. 3 hours later, we're off north into the desert. 11PM approx: We arrive at a "camping ground" that was just the road leading into the camp grounds. We set up camp. - Saturday 1AM: We hear noises russling outside by the cooler. We things it's ice settling, no prob. Minutes later, same noise. We examine, it's a damn racoon and it's stolen a Coke, popped it open and chugging. 8AM: "Knock, knock, it's the Rangers and you're camped illegally." Yep, here's our ID's, we're good people, go way. All day after that until 6:30PM, dune buggy patrol all up and down the hillsides. 3-wheelin', bump jumpin', and getting stuck so deep I have to pick the car out from behind the redwoods that sprung out from nowhere. Remember kids, sunscreen is good mmkay. 7PM: Off to the rave/party. Up and down through 18 miles and 2 hours of winding cliffs, foresty area, desert plain and many other landscape descriptions I don't want to bother finding out we drove. 9PM: We arrive and set up camp for the 3rd time in 2 days. This time, we do it so that it looks like it belongs in a catalog. Damn we're good. Beats start, we groove, we drink some lemonade mixed with perverse amounts of coconut rum and Coke and spiced rum. My friends smoke more weed than I've ever seen them smoke. Good times. - Sunday 2AM: Proceed to sleep. At least 10 times in the night I wake up, pee, or go watch the DJs spin and people dance around the tree lit with christmas tree lights and a disco ball. It was purdy. 10AM: Music stops, off to Dennys, pool back with friend with car set on home. Good times at my first rave/underground party. The whole time I was there I didn't shower, I had a pound of dust in my nose, a sunburn, and I'm still sexy. I'll write the story for next issue.

~-=Quote Of The Day=-~ "A good novel tells us the truth about its hero; but a bad novel tells us the truth about its author." --G. K. Chesterton (1874 - 1936)