Three major car accidents, money problems, 600 pages of comics, nerve damage, back surgery, unemployment, depression, bad dates, shorted bills, angry phonecalls, the deaf ear of the ever-cunting bursars office (who on more than one occassion tried to extort me for money I already paid), fuckheaded teachers, three science courses, nearly a hundred term papers done at the last minute, a never ending ceremony in which the keynote speaker told a class of college graduates to join the service, and a fucking math class later – I have beaten you, you shitty fucking school.
YOU DID NOT KILL ME. I’ve won.
Kindly fuck off, College Graduate Sean Witzke.
- – -
I’m taking a well-deserved weekend off. See you on monday. Boosh.
He’s so bad, he makes medicine sick!
Congrats, Sean.
Congratulations!
Thanks guys.
Wow, that’s a great! Congratulations, Sean. Should I mail ya a bottle of champagne?
And a hearty congratulations to you from me as well.
My senior year in college was a complete and utter cluster fuck as well, including a brutal divorce, bill collectors demanding my flesh, a knee injury with no insurance (popped that bitch back in myself and wrapped a t-shirt around it), carlessness, homelessness (slept in the office of the school newspaper where I worked as the film critic) and joblessness – and I remember feeling similarly triumphant/exhausted/burned out/and generally top-of-the-goddamn world to have beat the fuckers back through sheer force of will power and copious amounts of scotch and cigarettes (paid for by pawning everything I could shoplift, running cons on military guys and engineering students, and selling my goddamn blood). I was just not going to let them win, and every shitty thing that came my way just pissed me off more and made me even more determined to beat them. *sigh*
Man, I miss college.
So yeah, kudos to you for not just surviving, but doing it against the goddamn odds.
Sean – Fuck yeah, thanks man. It sounds like you had it a lot worse than me.
Ashley – thanks