You will all now address me as The Graduate, your supreme overlord. The Graduate is the most powerful being in the universe, and with his trusty diploma, he can accomplish virtually anything–except picking up girls. Wah-Wah.
I’m kidding. Don’t say it if you don’t want to say it, but, if you are feeling generous…
Well, folks, this whole year has been leading up to this moment. I have graduated from the institution in which I have been held captive for four years, suffering the tyrannies of the Board of Education and their malevolent curriculums! Oh, I can’t stand to think of it now, makes me shiver and tingle inside, or is that because I have to pee?
T’was a brilliant ceremony, quite sophisticated, since, as you know, I am the most sophisticated person in the world. I top Jay Gatsby in the amount of bad ass parties hosted–ahem, at least, that’s what last year’s census told me. I received my diploma with excellent poise and form, an act to make the strongest of men break down in tears of utter respect for the beauty of simplicity.
I shook hands with my teachers, many of whom smiled and gave the customary good luck, and, in the past week, I have accumulated quite the sum of money. It is a lot. I can sleep on the stuff; although, much to the contrary of what millionaires–like myself–confess, it is not comfortable sleeping on a mattress of one dollar bills.
Our family ate at a German restaurant, aptly named Edelweiss, otherwise known as the greatest German restaurant this side of the Colorado-German border–and, yes, that is a thing. Musicians played for us, an accordionist and a guitarist; in between songs, we spoke about our various heritages and how much Indian traits we had, considering the guitarist was of Cherokee descent, and I, and my mother, are from Oklahoma.
But enough of history. Shall we focus on the present, or the future?
The future is college–and I have talked about it countless times in countless posts, so I will not bore you with repetition. Rather, let’s start a conversation about how damned frustrating tassels can be, because I am sure many of have gone through the hell of flipping the tassel out of your eyes and onto the top of your cap; but, you’re S.O.L, seeing as how the cap is a flimsy piece of cardboard that does not allow to bend your neck downwards for one second.
Screw you, Cap and Gown Manufacturers, wherever you’re hiding! I have no idea how you sleep at night, and whether or not it’s on coins or dollar bills! But I stopped caring five seconds ago, so there!
Whew, that felt nice, just like graduating.
Good-bye high school, and hello college.
Dammit! I mentioned college again!