>>> The Rollercoaster of Drama
By staff writer Simonne Cullen
June 5, 2005

Sorry there was no article last week, the past week I was feeling uncharacteristically sentimental. Chalk it up to my last week in college forever. As usual most of us have been getting too drunk all week in hopes of keeping these sentimental feelings at bay, ultimately to avoid expressing any sort of sort of emotion that could lead to public crying. But no worries, I'll still be writing about college life and be back to my normal sarcastically witty self next week, because I'm continuing school after graduation, anything to avoid getting a 9 to 5 you know? But for now I'd like to make a toast to the little details that some will miss all summer, but the seniors will miss forever…..

Ahem, raise your red plastic cup…to the little things….

Feeling bad lying to the quirky dorm hall janitor that asks us who threw the party that caused the massive trail of vomit she's currently cleaning up, but something tells me she doesn't believe it was the quiet international students down the hall we always blame it on.

“Finally being able to pass out at a frat house without the fear of being shamed because these guys really are your friends.”

Girls that can't straighten their own hair, who are the same girls that can write a A+ twenty-five page paper about mood disorders the night before it's due, but can't figure out how to operate a ceramic iron prong properly.

The professors you love to hate, are really the ones you hate to love. And the fact the retail price of the four hundred dollars worth of books you try to sell back every year deflates dramatically leaving you with the bargain buy back profit of thirty dollars and twenty-two cents.

The quiet but retarded comments your friends make at brunch the next day, like “Does my breath smell like dick?” Or, “That's another pair of panties lost forever.” And my personal favorite, “We're going to play a game. It's called No Judgment. I slept with her….that's right my friends, donkey jaws.”

Getting a running start before jumping on my roommates who are too hungover in the morning to care that you're acting as a human blanket with rank breath demanding to know who they hooked up with the night before.

The friends that invade your room at bartime who've wrapped up one of their buddies in industrial strength paper towels and duct tape and attempt to drunkenly reenact The Mummy Returns by chanting “Imotep!” Who are also the same guys who claim wearing shorts that look like skirts is “false advertising.”

Finally being able to pass out at a frat house without the fear of being shamed because these guys really are your friends. And then not caring about the barefoot walk home because you're old enough to realize that passing the family dressed in their Sunday best while you're holding your high heels in your hand and wearing a cocktail dress really isn't that big of a deal.

To the parties with ridiculous themes (Toga, Disco, Beach Bash) that changed us forever. And the hookups attained at these parties. The ones that turned into a relationships, and a toast to even the ones that didn't, and let's not forget the ones that some of you can't even remember.

The unforgettable Spring Breaks in the exotic land of Mexico, in a quaint little city called Cancun, where the Americans wear no clothes, the coronas are a dollar a piece, and the only donkey jaws are the ones toting carrying Mexicans to and from their homes.

Studying abroad in London, only to realize that it's a lot more expensive than America and three weeks into living there you're bank account is showing your have negative dollars to work with the next seven weeks.

But perhaps we should raise our glasses a little higher to the to the music that keeps us all in check. And that music my friends is 80's Rock. So thank you Eddie Money, thank you Toto, thank you Bon Jovi, thank you Outfield, thank you Billy Joel, thank you Madonna, thank you Rod Stewart, thank you Journey, thank you Michael Jackson, and thank you Bryan Adams (only for the Summer of 69). Whenever the times were winding down we'd play you and your dynamic lyrics and beat put the “part” back into the party.

So my graduation speech was rejected, probably because it was filled with brilliant insight and hysterical wit, that may or may not have been so PG-rated. And while I won't share all of its brilliance with you, I'll leave you with it's final words of wisdom…

I'm going to end this speech on a serious note, so please listen carefully, as I'm sure that these words will forever live on in your memory and guide you into making positive choices in all your future endeavors. (Pull out a Bud Light or Keystone Light if we're going to be truly realistic.) When we started here Freshmen there were 99 bottles of beer on the wall, and now we've reached the end, so my friends, one bottle of beer on the wall, there's just one more bottle of beer, take it down, pass it around, and after we all get our diplomas we're heading back down to the bars to restock.


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