Graduation

Seeing as how I've been on blog hiatus for so long, I am nearly positive that no one will read this. Based upon this assumption, I now feel that it is safe to post my most intimate and personal details without fear of others finding out. Also, without using spell check or worrying about grammatical accuracy. I equate this to masterbating in your parents room while they are at work. I mean, they're at work right? So its safe, but just dangerous enough to get the Gotty juices flowing. Poor analogy, I know. Anyhow, I didnt graduate. Yup, after 4 long years of BEER PIZZA AND CHICKS, I managed to screw the pooch. Sure, I woke up at the crack of 8am, put on a cap and gown (with questionable undergarments) and strunted my half erect self down to alumni [authors note: I had blown so much peyote the night prior and watched Flutie highlights on repeat that I half convinced myself I was going to the BC v. Miami 1984 Miracle. You should have seen the disappointment on my face when Phelan wasnt even the speaker. Fucking bullshit.] and made a move on my senior five. [Authors note: If we're counting the senior five on a 4th grade level of butt-rub-when-passing-in-the-hallways-without-her-noticing, I cleaned house, if not, I'll most likely spit in your food next time you hit up VTs].

The biggest give away of not graduating was probably when I didnt make the graduation roster. Now I know you're all saying, if there was a you all, "Gotty, you knew you werent graduating, why didnt you plan ahead?" I did, Poorly. At the peak of my peyote experience, I realized that I had put off my mistake for far too long, four years too long. I searched the entirety of Adam's art supplies and found nothing but 6 unsharpened Crayolas, a charcoal pencil, and what I believe to be a blonde hair doll [Authors note: I'm not one to put on the white wig and judge but I'd wager that little hair doll brings Adam some JOY {Authors note of note: I've now thricely dropped hints about this hair doll, if you cant figure it out, you're either Marco or retarded, though the two arent mutually exclusive}].

Obsessions aside, I stormed Devlin that night and found what I believed to be the entirety of graduation pamphletes. I Joyly, I mean, coyly wrote my name in the A&S section with a little Cum Laude props for kicks. Problem solved.

There's not much I remember from graduation, but there are two specifics that stick out: 1.) the stream of phone calls from mom questioning why I wasnt in the program and 2.) the confused look of Speed as he held out his graduation booklet to show me a huge, crayon drawn phallus with a crudley written 'Suck it! Gottys is Grady-atting!'

On a side note, Mom and Dad have refused to pay for summer classes, so any help is a big help.