Senioritis: Only 12 Thirsty Thursdays Left!

Time is flying and no matter how much I try to ignore how quickly the semester is going, all my friends have turned into professional counters who can tell you exactly how many days, hours, and minutes we have left.

All I have to say is, “I’m not sure I’m going out tonight because it’s hailing fully formed snowmen,” and within in seconds I have 14 texts, 9 IMs, and 1 roommate chirping out: “We only have 12 more Mondays to go out!” And of course the countdown always makes me give in.

It’s not that I doubt I will have plenty of Mondays in my future to get drunk (recession, unemployment, YES) but it’s more like I only have 12 more Mondays to get drunk in a socially acceptable way. After that it’s drinking alone on Mondays from old Manischewitz bottles that I find in the back of the fridge. And nothing good ever follows Manischewitz (although my brother will be the only one to argue that gelfite fish follows Manischewitz and gelfite fish is good).

And as the days start winding down I find myself nostalgic for the past three years. But not only for the normal things like the nights I’ll never remember with the friends I’ll never forget (stole that quote from my 12yr old sister’s MySpace), but also for things I promised myself that I would never miss. I pass freshmen with their Styrofoam dining hall boxes and instead of trying to make them envious by bragging about my full fridge, I approach them and ask for just a peak inside…will it be greasy chicken fingers or just a box full of cocoa puffs? Either way, all I can think about is how good they have it. Endless amounts of food prepared for them! Trays to transport the food! Someone to wash the dishes after they eat the food!

It’s hard to believe that at this point sophomore year I was sitting in the dining hall eating wilted lettuce leaves complaining about how I couldn’t believe we had three more months of this garbage. Now I’m asking freshman to pass back their ID and let me see that salad bar one last time, let me see those smiling cooks under their hair nets, let me see the unrefrigerated egg salad!

But more than I miss the limitless frozen yogurt machine at the dining halls, I’m nostalgic for how dumb I was. Everyday was an adventure and I believed everyone was there to help guide me; from the saleslady who claimed I would need $300 snowpants to survive Syracuse to the the frat “brother” who forgot which room was his and insisted the hallway was suitable. I believed spring began after spring break. I believed R.A’s actually had power. I believed that liquor before beer meant I was in the clear and, most of all, I believed that the mummy I kissed during Freshman Halloween would at least wait until I walked away before grabbing my friend and kissing her.

And even though all these beliefs were eventually proved wrong (turns out brothers don’t forget which room they live in) it was still fun not knowing what was around every corner. Literally every corner had something new. An underage basement bar! A middle-eastern restaurant! The friend that I made first week and never spoke to again! Just because I’m better fed, legally able to drink, and no longer a moron, I still can’t help but miss it.

Tuffy Luv Sez, Sexuality Is Fluid, B*tches!
Tuffy Luv Sez, Sexuality Is Fluid, B*tches!
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