Tuesday was my 22nd birthday. It was also November 16th -- exactly six months until graduation. I didn't know whether to celebrate in the usual way -- get blackout drunk and make out with everyone I know -- or to finally trade in the Bacardi for the Botox. I'm officially old, and I have five months and twenty eight days until I can no longer justify waking up naked on the porch as a typical Wednesday morning.
I hear seniors all over campus kvetching about having senioritis. We're collectively bored of Penn. We hate Smokes now that it's packed with girls that still put some effort into looking cute, aka sophomores (oh, and to the sophomore with the third degree burn from when I put my cigarette out on your face last week: sorry!). We're sick of authority: self-important professors, anal TAs, bouncers who think my driver's license is fake because it says I'm from Bermuda --for fuck's sake, buy a map.
I have senioritis despite my enduring love of midweek binge drinking and Hallmark-worthy sorority sister bonding moments. (Bonding, not bondage. And we don't have topless pillow fights either. Sorry, boys.) I'm excited for the big, scary, real world despite my knowledge that on May 16th, with evil glee in his eyes, Daddy will introduce my credit cards to his scissors. I'm going to enjoy this last year of shameless hedonism. Fuck senioritis. I can cure it, and you can too. Here's how:
1. BURSAR YOUR WHOLE WORLD. Take this lovely chunk of your parents' money and put it to good use. ALL of it. I once managed to whittle mine down to $17 and you can too. Forget sushi and sweatshirts. Step your spending up a notch: bursar iPods, digital cameras and DVDs. Think you can't possibly watch Best in Show again? Who cares? Bursar it anyway. If your parents, like mine, still haven't figured it out, they won't anytime soon. And no, they don't read Street, so they're still clueless, God love 'em.
2. HOOK UP WITH EVERYONE AND THEIR MOTHER. I mean this literally. Some mothers are promiscuous. Don't just bed drunken Penn kids. Again, step it up a notch: What professor doesn't love a really good hand job? In the real world, hooking up a lot makes you a slut. At Penn, it makes you a scoreboard.
3. GET CREATIVE. Want to curl up in fetal instead of going to class? Sure! Just don't give a lame excuse -- at Penn, if you tell a TA you got run over by a truck, she'll ask to see the tire tracks. Anything involving mountain goats, hot air balloons or nipples will do the trick, I promise. Also get creative with personalities. Meet a sexy MBA at a bar? You are no longer Clare O'Connor, you are Clytemnestra Von Douche, Clittie for short, a mysterious blonde with a convincing German accent.
So happy birthday to me. I'm 22 and tonight I'm off to A.C. to gamble away my dad's money, get blindingly drunk, and have lots of sex. I suggest you do the same.
