Welp, I guess its about that time. Time to graduate, time for Summer, time to work your ass off for next year’s beer money, or, in most cases, suck up to mommy and daddy enough to get them to support your habit for yet another year of college debauchery.
Riding and writing has been very therapeutic during these uncertain times leading up to my graduation.
I’m not sure if I would have made it through my final quarter if it weren’t for the wisdom and humor of the good people of southeast Ohio I met along my rides. It has truly been one of the best experiences of my life, no joke (me serious? WTF?).
Unfortunately, there will be no more ridiculous pedal puns, Wu-Tang references (Wu-Tang forever, Lord), and other nonsense that most readers probably had absolutely no clue what the hell I was trying to convey.
To my fellow Victory Lappers, please, for the love of God, graduate already! The jig is up, my friend; it is time to get a job. Believe it or not, that’s what this whole college thing was all about (ya, sucks, right?).
You spent four, five, or six (seven?!) years of your life pursuing whatever degree your idealistic 18-year-old self decided to study or the major your confused 21-year-old self decided to switch to.
I see far too many baristas with their bachelor’s in this town already, so utilize that piece of papyrus.
Like my idol, Billy Madison, I want to grab the collective pudgy cheeks of next years returning student body and advise them to “stay here, stay as long as you can. For the love of God, cherish it.”
For me, time spent as a student at OU has turned me into the mature piss and fart joker that you are reading today. And my parents are proud, mostly because I won’t be calling them for a twenty-spot for “food” any more.
There comes a time, and that time is now, when it is no longer acceptable to throw dorm furniture from the fifth floor of your South Green dorm, puke while waiting in line at Goodfella’s Pizza at 2 a.m. (or, even worse, 2 p.m.), steal funny street name signs (funny to 9-year-olds and drunken scholars), or even think about using the phrase “Beer O’Clock.”
Now that you are out of college (hopefully graduated), as the popular saying goes, you are no longer a college student, but an alcoholic.
Also, you can no longer use the excuse that you are a poor college student after tipping an Avalanche driver a few pennies; you are simply just poor, and that is no excuse for anything.
Pull yourself up by your bootstraps American style and start making millions like everyone else. This is America.
Don’t be afraid of your life outside our beautiful college bubble. Don’t let these become the best years of your life. Grow, prosper and forge forth into the future with the same gusto you pursued the drunken coeds of Court Street.
This weekend, my final weekend as a student here at Ohio University, there will be no bike riding.
There will definitely be some shuffling, and certainly some surfing of the couch variety will be necessary, but I aim to relax to the fullest extent possible. Give me a call and join me: 330-309-4461.
It’s been really real. Peace.
Brian Bors is a senior studying social work and a columnist for The Post. Are you ready to cross the finish line? Let Brian know at firstname.lastname@example.org.