I always knew I was going to graduate from college. I just didn’t realize it was going to be quite so soon.
 
    I guess I didn’t really start thinking about it until the beginning of last week. I was just sitting around, mindlessly enjoying the collected works of Clara Reeve, fascinating and quite dead author of the mid-eighteenth century, when a little tinkly voice from deep inside the recesses of my brain, probably somewhere near my vast storage of Nixon jokes, spoke.
 
    "Hey! You thought you were stressed out about finals before?" it said. "Just think that this time next year you’ll be out in the real world with your own car payment and crotchety neighbors who probably want to sell you Amway! Ha ha ha!"
 
    My brain thinks causing me to lose control of my bladder muscles is funny.
 
    Now, I’ve tried to stay in school as long as I possibly can, because my dad once told me, after yet another humiliating pantsing by Mike Marcin in the Harmon middle school gym that school would be the best time of my life.
 
    And if post-collegiate life only gets worse than public pantsings, than I want nothing to do with it.
 However, because of the latent but strong nerd stripe I have tried to keep hidden from you for so long (most recently behind a pair of capris), I somehow managed to get a semester ahead, and will be graduating in December of this year.
 
    This does not sit well with me.
 
    Having just learned how to operate a can opener this weekend, I doubt I’ll be able to survive long without food. Oh, sure, I can make microwave s’mores. But those can only get you so far at a corporate dinner party.
 
    However, my college days aren’t over yet. And it’s about time I make up for the hours and hours wasted doing things like debating which bowling alley to spend my three dollars at (this is P.L.—pre-Lounge), researching "The A-Team" on the Internet, and, of course, studying.
 
    Therefore, I will not be leaving this campus until I have completed the following:

    1.  Played in the fountain. Sure, it’s cold. Sure, it will harden certain parts of my
 anatomy, perhaps forever. Sure, it’s probably illegal, and is probably a stepping stone to more serious crimes, like mall fountain scuba diving and heroin use.

    2.  Sung at karaoke night. (Okay, maybe not.)

    3.  Visited a bar other that BW3, which is a fine establishment, but a bit colloquial, and plus the bartenders there know me by name, which is never a good sign.

    4. Been hypnotized. I came to college to be brainwashed, darn it, and I demand satisfaction! Preferably I would be hypnotized to think that grilled hoki tastes like porterhouse steak.

    5.  Gone on a date. Is that so much to ask?

    6.  Had my name featured on every page of "The Collegian." Unfortunately, in
order to attain this goal, I would have to join an athletic team. So therefore, I would like to have

    7.  Changed "The Collegian" so that the sports pages no longer existed, and were
changed instead to the "Kim Shable is a sexy bitch" pages. [note: I do not actually want this to happen. Just a sidebar on every page would be fine.]

    8.  Gotten a high-five and a "how’s it going, sweetums?" from Dr. Benz. A kiss on the cheek would be accepted, if not preferred.

    So I guess I’d better get to work—December is only a few months away, and I’ve
got a lot of living to do. And a lot of fountains to dive in.