For 17 years, I’ve been busy sucking on the great Slurpee of youth, and I’ve finally reached the sticky part at the bottom. I still have some time to enjoy the unfrozen syrup, but I know it will only leave me wishing for more.
Most seniors are scared when they approach graduation. I, thankfully, am not because I managed to get my hands on an advanced copy of my diary:
April 25: Spend day getting comments about how “diary” column was lame. Get annoyed about return of cold weather.
April 29: Do semester’s worth of work in 21 hours. Receive B- for effort.
May 2: Attend final class. Leave at break to go to bar.
May 3-20: Note: I have no memory of these two weeks.
May 20: Graduate. Party until sick. Go home with “gross arm and shoulder girl” from freshman year floor.
May 21: Stay in bed all day. Hate life, self.
May 22: Begin moving out stuff. Become emotional upon removing two years of dust and tiny pieces of paper from under bed.
May 25: Send out four to five half-assed job applications.
June 1: Call parents. Ask them not to sell bed in old room.
June 2: Travel to Maine for weekend. Agree with visitor’s bureau that state really is “The Maine Attraction.”
June 6: Spend day crying, occasionally yelling “I used to know freshman girls!”
June 7: Fly home.
June 8: Think of witty comeback for when younger brother calls me “lame.”
June 13: Remember that friends from high school are not interesting anymore; that video arcade is no longer “cool.”
June 22: Find job at local newspaper. Earn less money than Radio Shack employee. Feel content in fact that job does not require self to ask every customer for home address.
June 27: Get fired for trying to put word “boobies” into article about feminist protest. “Equal-righters” apparently not amused.
June 28: Think of witty comeback when parents call me “irresponsible.” Brother no longer thinks I am “lame.”
July 1: Walk around town with diploma, kicking legs into air and yelling, “See! I’m smart.”
July 4: Get picture in newspaper after blowing off fingers in firecracker-related accident.
July 6: Screaming, “Down with capitalist America,” give up job search and build shack on mountain. Make sure shack has DSL line. Send threatening packages to corporate CEOs.
July 9: Begin making friends with wildlife.
July 12: Receive visit from friendly federal agents. Kindly agree to stop sending packages.
July 14: Move back in with parents. Resume chores from 10th grade.
July 17: Think of comeback when brother calls me a “reject.” Abandon first choice response: “I am rubber and you are glue.”
July 18: Try to find new friends at old high school. Bring drugs to show kids I am cool.
July 19: Get long annoying lecture from district attorney about “school zone” and “intent to distribute.” Nod and smile. Get Johnnie Cochran’s number from mom.
July 22: Get job at Blockbuster. Spend day cursing self for refusing to make movies for corporate giants. Realize that making them is better than renting them. Get pissed off about store’s no NC-17 policy.
July 25: Cool again in eyes of brother. Spend day together at beach. Hug.
July 28: Overhear parents warning brother not to look at me as a role model. Go to liquor store and get sibling a flask of Jim Beam. Run around backyard yelling, “Who’s more persuasive now, fool!”
August 1: Get job as sportswriter for local website.
August 7: Wow editors with gritty coverage of local high school summer basketball competition.
August 14: Get assigned to cover national tennis tournament.
August 20: Get sent to hospital after errant tennis ball hit by pissed off Anna Kournikova gets lodged in eye socket. Never wash eye socket again.
August 27: Make appearance on Letterman’s “Stupid Human Tricks” as “tennis-ball-instead-of-an-eye” guy.
August 28: Receive thousands of letters from single females and prison inmates after “you should see what else I can do with this tennis ball” comment makes air.
August 30: Begin meaningful letter exchanging relationship with inmate “Michael M.” Explain to parents that his crime was merely “stock fraud.”
September 1: Think of witty comeback when brother calls me “gay.”
September 4: Join circus. Receive pension plan and job security. Age gracefully.
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