Well, it's that time of year again when students start settling into the fall semester. I almost forgot all about the back to school thing, luckily I was reminded by the voluminous commercial advertisements occupying every form of media. Actually, I was too busy buying Bud Light Lime and wearing my hat backwards to accidentally glance at a calendar, read my mail, register for classes, or notice that all of the blood money I had earned from working the worst fucking job I have ever had was gone towards tuition. But it's been almost a month since classes have started and things are finally starting to settle down.
By the beginning of the fall semester, or "cunting season," the prospect of going out on a Friday night seems like a chore. Since I live year-round in a university town, it gets pretty quiet around the summer time and I get used to that. But every September, without fail, the students descend upon my city like a plague of locusts, bringing on their heels "the darkness." I would give my first born to be able to go to the grocery store and not have to stand in line for 38 minutes while the parents of some pimply-dicked, snot-nosed, illiterate first-year put $800 worth of irrelevant food items (because the kid's culinary knowledge begins and ends with Pop Tarts and TV dinners) on their fucking credit card (which they can't afford because they had to get a second mortgage on their house to put Junior through college). The emphasis on the fact that this huge investment in education is necessary blows my mind. Our generation is stupider then any before it, and our parents used to be exposed to lead based paint and asbestos in the classroom and at home. Plus, the internet didn't even fucking exist yet! More on idiots later.
Around campus people are still putting effort into their appearance, but we all know far too well that the entire student body will soon assimilate the same horrible fashion: track pants. I want to get a pair of track pants with the word "unemployed" across the ass, but that would just be redundant. The only reason to wear track pants is because you are jobless and close to the final decision to kill yourself. Don't worry, you'll have plenty of reasons for track pants once you graduate with that degree in: Art History, Philosophy, Parapsychology, Communications, English Lit, Dance, Latin, Film, or Criminal Justice. I was asked the other day if I knew where one could buy track pants. My response: "I don't know. I haven't even thought about it. I guess I've never woken up in the afternoon and said to myself, ‘Wow, I feel like a real piece of shit today. Where can I purchase a single piece of clothing that will accurately reflect the fact I have given up on life?'"
The one thing I hate most about the new school year is the increased volumes at my local watering holes. In the douchebag off-season there are no lines to get into your favorite bar, you aren't harassed for ID, and you can get a table or at the very least a seat at the bar. By the beginning of the fall semester, or "cunting season," the prospect of going out on a Friday night seems like a chore. There I was, at a bar that is usually empty (it was Saturday night around 11:30pm at the end of Frosh Week) drowning in a sea of popped collars and Axe Body Spray, thinking to myself: "Who fucks these people? They look absolutely ridiculous. This is the fashion stereotype that the 2000 decade will be remembered by. Our children will look at old television clips and pictures from magazines and laugh at how silly we once dressed. ‘Daddy, did everyone play polo when you were young?' ‘No, most of us didn't know polo was a sport, let alone how it was played. Fewer had ever even ridden a horse.'" Ladies, the onus is on you to curb this trend. Stop sleeping with these morons. Maybe then they will take the hint that it is not alright to dress like tennis players from 1926.
We all have to tolerate the burden of the student flood every year. But we can gain strength in the steadfast belief that the day will soon come when they run out of money and are forced to forgo the staples of the post-secondary educational lifestyle. Stay strong.