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Posts Tagged ‘graduation’

The Rundown

I am now one of 27% of Americans with a college degree... boo ya

Sorry I haven’t posted in a bit… Things have been crazy.
Here’s the update:

  • I got my $160,000 diploma… it’s in an envelope in my closet
  • I went from an easy 4 day school week to a 7 day work week (I’ll be putting in 61 hours this week..)
  • I have a narsty head cold (and yes, the added ‘R’ was necessary)
  • I missed Magna cum Laude by 1/100th of a percent… that’s karma (but it wasn’t because of BP, which makes me feel eons better)
  • I moved into a new house
  • I’m allergic to my new house
  • My new house has ants
  • I’ve eaten nothing by cereal, soup, and cheesecake since Sunday (it’s now Thursday…)
  • Today’s Eileen’s birthday
  • Life’s pretty darn good.

That pretty much all I got for now.

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Roomie Totem Pole Before Commencement Ball

Last night, the university held its 60th Annual Commencement Ball (that’s how we roll down here; we don’t have dances or formals, we have a freakin’ ball). My roomies and I got all glammed up; our parents took the part of paparazzi; and we headed out the door for our last big hoorah.

My roommates were on dress watch as my double-sided sticky tape gave way to gravity. As we passed the dinner rolls around, SLJ and I commented on how ever bite of dinner forced a battle between our tummies and our dresses in which there could be no good winner. We took photos of ourselves, in that token Facebook style (you know what I’m talking about…)

And then of all the pathetic things, I almost started to cry. Not because it’s getting to the end and I’m not ready to leave or because my dress was crushing my rib cage. No, I almost started crying because one of my Business Policy group members informed me that after the quiz results, only three group members were getting As and I wasn’t one of them (remember this project as “Evil Lurks in Room 113“). This wouldn’t matter any other time,  but I needed that A to graduate Magna Cum Laude… And with BP being a 4 credit class, that A- would knock me just enough to miss the blue ribbon. And while I sat there feeling extremely sorry for myself, of all the terrible things, something from my Capstone class came to mind… “Nothing is worth everything.”

So I got my sorry butt up, readjusted my dress, and tore up the dance floor with a few of my favorite people and a lot of people I don’t think I’ve ever seen before… And as I gear up to graduate, I think the memories of spastastically dancing with my friends will mean more than some silly honor chord.

P.S. I realize “spastastically” is not an actual word. It’s like one of those Scrabble words you put out hoping no one will call you on it. It’s a smash-up of spastic and fantastically… I know that after 4 years of college I should be  able to come up with a real word, but alas my week of not having classes or work has rendered my brain mush.

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She-Hulk! from superherotimes.com

I’m telling you this story in full confidence that you will not tell anyone else (and yes, in posting this to the internet, I know I am telling anyone). As graduation approaches, preceded by a plethora of pre-commencement events and ceremonies, I found that I was in need of a serious shopping spree. Specifically, I needed dresses… and a lot of them. After going to four department stores with limited luck (I bought one overpriced sleeveless party dress that’s going to take a little more than a lot of double-sided sticky skin tape to keep up..if you’ve never used skin tape, you cannot even imagine how unpleasant the task of applying and, even more so, removing , the tape is), I decided to venture outside the comfort zone.

So in my time of dress desperation, I decided to go to a store that screams teeny bopper. Pushing my way through racks of multi-colored zebra-print hoodies, I found racks and racks of neon prom dresses. Tacky? Most definitely. But like I said, I already struck out at all the logical places, so I grabbed a handful of highlighter pinks, blues and yellows, and pressed on to the 1 x 1 foot dressing stall, designed in such a way that the door only covers your torso, leaving your legs and top of your head in plain view. I tried on a neon-blue number, with cheap little craft store gems glue-gunned to the neckline. I pulled the zipper up the back, caught one look in the mirror, and decided that I’d be better off wearing my business suit than this. I started to undo the zipped from the back, it snagged. Damnit. I twisted the dress around and tried to pull. Nothing. Not even a budge. I tried to pull the dress over my head. Nope. Tried to push it past my hips. Yeah right. So there I was, stuck in this taffeta nightmare.  

And I did what everyone reading this would do in the same situation; I called my mother into the miniature stall. She tried. We tried. And oh my God, that evil little zipper wouldn’t budge. I began to panick. I could not spend the rest of my life in this horror show of neon and lace. So I tried to rip my way out of it… I turned it inside out (while it was still on me….) and began to rip on the lining and rip out the zipper. With a certain amount of violence, I finally freed myself from the blue jaws of death. Twenty-five minutes later.  

So then I did what any upright citizen would do, I put the dress on the rack and booked it out of there– with my parents in tow. The entire time my mother was looking behind us, half expecting some skinny high-school girl in ripped denim to be chasing us through the mall.

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