College
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[edit] Grade Thirteen
If you're one of the unlucky few fucking breathing, you're probably thinking about going to college once you graduate. Or don't graduate and sum up twelve years in one Saturday morning plus fifty dollars. Either way, do so. However, be very fucking aware that this is grade thirteen. Community college or a straight up university; if this bitch is in the same state, it's grade thirteen. You will never meet anyone new and the same faggots you hated in high school will be there. Much like Facebook, where there are an untold, seething mass of shitheads whom you hated then, and probably still hate now, it's a cesspool of insurmountable fail and win all at the same time. Fuck.
[edit] WHO NEEDS TO GO TO CLASS?
The sole reason your parents, or the stupid government, blew a metric fucking shitton of money so you can owe them forever possibly obtain a piece of paper stating you endured two to four years of bullshit and came out relatively unscathed. AND OWE THEM FOREVER! Circle of life, bitch.
You're supposed to go said class to learn, hear lectures, jot notes, fall asleep entirely due to a hangover from that massive kegger at the sigma chi house last night. Holy fucking shit, dude. When I did that keg stand and it started coming out my nose and I wound up simultaneously shitting and pissing myself in front of like fifty people and, like, they all laughed. I vaguely remember passing smooth the fuck out in the front yard when that dude with thirty popped collars smashed glass or something in my eyes. It's all a blur. Fuck dude.
The above paragraph of sorts, read it. Read it again. This is going to be you. Your grades will suffer and you disappoint famiry. SEPPUKO.
[edit] BEER, A CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE!
Alright, let's face it, you've become what you didn't think you'd become: a lazy sack of shit in cut off khaki pants with flippy floppies. You are so fucking queer. But that's okay! It's the new, hip thing! Actually, it's not new nor hip. In fact, it makes you look like an asshole. You are. Get used to it, champ. It only goes downhill from here.
You're now deep in the recesses of not going to class, rocking a ZERO POINT THREE THREE (0.33) grade point average (GPA), and it's only five weeks into the first semester. Not to worry, though! Surely you've used your horrible social skills in a less than average environ. No? Start making friends, fuckface. We don't have much time! You have to get that alcohol tolerance up to par before football season; it's binge drinking time!
Class is for the meek. You've found your calling: not dying in public due to alcohol poisoning. There's only one way to fucking beef up your shit for GAME DAY SON. This is the way of the Kegger. Besides, if you flunk the fuck out and shit, there's always DAD'S DEALERSHIP! Or community college; grade thirteen. woo.
[edit] IF ALL ELSE FAILS
Or you can go to college, succeed, and not do shit with your diploma. being a gas station clerk, barista, and screenprinter are all viable options. jesus christ.
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