During my first year at Vassar I was also featured in the commencement issue, so I guess my life really has come full circle. In that issue I detailed my numerous post-graduation plans, and I’m proud to say that nothing has changed; I still plan to mark my territory in every state by peeing on their state flower. Though, I will say that I am less afraid of peeing on Arizona’s state flower, the Cactus, as I’ve started a Hot Girl Summer workout routine that involves a lot of squatting.
My friends will still sign me up for “Worst Cooks in America,” which I will still win. If anything, my cooking skills have only deteriorated. I set the stove in my TA on fire twice this year. The first time definitely wasn’t my fault. The electric burner started sparking and then erupted in flames without me doing anything. The second time might have partially been my fault, considering I did choose to use the burner that had miraculously caught on fire previously, despite the fact that my housemate put a sticky note on the dial warning of spontaneous combustion. I, however, was not the reason that the fire department got called to my TA. I also wasn’t the one that caused a fire that forced us to use the fire extinguisher. Okay, if I’m being completely transparent, I might have had a little bit to do with the fire extinguisher incident. Also if you were curious, fire extinguisher fluid tastes pretty bad and in large amounts can be toxic. Something to keep in mind. After the fire extinguisher incident, facilities came to help us clean out the fire extinguisher fluid from the stove. I would say that learning how to take apart an electric stove was probably my most important learning experience at Vassar.
I still plan to get my life story picked up by Netflix. It will be a grueling exposé on an adult who shit her pants two months ago. Apparently eating two eggs when you have a severe egg allergy can really do a number on your cute alpaca bed sheets. Unfortunately the ratings for my life story will be low, but the costuming will be immaculate. Tutus and devil horns only, in honor of impromptu spirit weeks.
While it is still my plan to one day write a best-selling romance novel, I’ve always fantasized more about writing the acknowledgement section of a book. Since my novel will most likely end up being a fairly graphic erotica (at least if it’s anything like what I’ve been turning in for my intermediate creative writing class), I fear how personal I will be able to make the acknowledgements section. So, I will take my space here to write some acknowledgements.
First, I’d like to thank myself for coming up with the most creative writing topics. I’ve written about pillow princesses for an anthropology class, female orgasms for an evolutionary psych class, my friends drinking my frozen Tito’s vodka without telling me for a philosophy class, my pudding addition for a sociology class and a campy queer Hallmark Christmas play for a drama class.
I would also like to thank myself for getting an IUD. I am horrible about taking the pill regularly, so I really came in clutch there for myself.
I would like to thank myself for picking such great friends who bake me bread, make me coffee every morning and run beer miles with me.
I would also like to thank myself for having such great parents. I’m a little sorry that I told my entire improvisational writing class that you recommended me a book with explicit vampire sex, mom, but they all thought you were iconic. I also would like to thank myself for learning how to jumpstart my car. It only took the battery dying about like five times and 12 Facetime calls to my dad.
A thousand thanks again to myself for influencing my little sister to be such an icon. I don’t know what I would do without you calling me at 2 a.m. for help writing your psychology paper. I mean I do know what I would do… I would get more sleep. Also, you promised to Venmo me the grade that you got on that paper in cents. I’m still waiting.
And most importantly I would like to thank the one guy who I scared in the third North Strong hallway. Thank you for not reflexively punching me in the face. The power had just gone out and I swear I was only lurking in the darkness to scare my friend. I thought you were her, and I unfortunately didn’t realize that you weren’t her until I yelled boo, grabbed you and you screamed. That was objectively my bad, and I’m sorry if that one incident is still giving you nightmares. I’m also sorry for slinking back into the darkness and for not apologizing to you in the past two years. But I’m apologizing now, and I hope this gives you the closure we both need from this incident.
In honor of my time writing horoscopes for the Misc, I will leave you all with some astrological advice from your favorite humor writer: If you want to make your time memorable, buy your roommate a flogger. It will inevitably lead to a no rules free-flog household where flogging is fair game whether you are in the shower or having diarrhea. While my friends and I no longer have our flogger (because we put it in the time capsule, which I can’t wait to unearth in 20 years!) I still shower in anxiety every day. While we may move on physically from Vassar, my unease in the shower will remain, and I think that is what has made my time here so special.