Get here already, would you?

Though it tends to be the norm, it's so not cool for you to be fashionably late on this one, mister. My foot is tapping, my ears are turning red, and I've broken three mechanical pencils with my nervous strength.

You're making me angry. You won't like me when I'm angry.

I'm talking to you, Spring Break, you squirrely little mound of mischief. I want to play. I want to relax. I want candy. Yes, I realize our wonderful week off from Penn State is, well, one week away. I'm early, but I'm anxious.

Spring break is the culmination of a semester of blah. It's as though the buildup to spring break is just the precursor for some change. In fact, the electricity of a fresh start is in the air, and it's so thick that even Gorilla Monsoon could cut it with a knife.

Beautiful, spring weather is just itching to break its way through State College's cloud of crappy climate. Some students are already reaching for the warmer months by wearing shorts and Hawaiian shirts to class.

The brown and gray sludge that's been sitting along the roads and sidewalks like your unwelcome, alcoholic uncle has moved into the "beyond annoying" stratosphere. You could use a break from the roommate who leaves crusty dishes and puzzle pieces spewed around your once comfortable living room.

And professors, bless their hearts, have dumped the work onto poor Penn State students like they're pouring concrete for another IST building. Exams? Papers? Group meetings? This "university education" stuff is really so unnecessary.

I'm tired. I'm tired of it all. I need you, Spring Break. I'm pining for my luscious, blue La-Z-Boy sofa, where the TV channels are zapped feverishly and the apple juice flows like wine.

That's right -- no Acapulco, Belize or Boca Raton for me. It's home sweet suburban home for me, with a sprinkle of Atlantic City thrown in. And that's fine with me. The "break" is the key element here, really.

I can't even imagine if I was actually going someplace glamorous, like Ohio.

So, come on, students. Let's put our hands in a circle, give the fiery pre-game speech where we lay it all out on the line and ...

1, 2, 3, break time! Huh!

To the lucky Penn Staters swarming the beaches of Cabo, etc.: Be absolute barbarians. Swing your eight-foot margarita slammers like Thor's hammer and jiggle your rear to the strains of the Venga Boys.

To the other Penn Staters who will be doing anything but hedonistic partying in a tropical locale (say, like drywalling your basement): Do the best dang razor knife and spackle job you possibly can. Drywalling is the DaVinci of carpentry, after all.

Come Monday, start dreaming early and often -- soon our lust for a mid-semester break will be answered. Reach for the stars this break -- or the package of Oreos. Whichever comes first, I say!

Be as partyrific or lazy as your little heart desires.