Since finishing your last exam aka #65 copying every fucking answer from the nerd sitting next to you, you’ve devoted the entire past week to one of the greatest #58 benders and #103 hot streaks of your fucking life. After four years of doing everything in their power to not become slam pieces, every single girl on the campus fell victim to the inevitable: their slutty DNA. In the past week alone, you’ve #52 banged a girl in a classroom, on the conveyor belt at the Caf, and by far the most romantic spot on campus: the dance floor at a Fraternity party.
To top this legendary week off came yesterday’s festivities. After five years of screaming at you for “wasting their money” by taking #102 Introduction to Canoe twice and drinking six nights a week, your parents finally came to their senses and threw you and all your bros a party. After an afternoon of screaming at your Mom for sucking at #6 beer pong and impressing your parents by showing them how many beers you could bong in at once, you and your bros hit the bar for one last time. As all the girls huddle in the corner crying, you take shots on one of your bros’ recently divorced Dad’s tab who’s trying to hook up with a slam piece. Things start to get hazy and you try to talk, but the only thing coming out of your mouth sounds like quotes from kids at the Ronald McDonald House. The last thing you see is your bro’s Dad talking to some fat chick your bros call “#28 Hungry Hungry Hippo” about how his #24 tubes are tied so they wouldn’t even need a condom before the night goes to black.
In one of the biggest bro-miracles since Jesus turned water into wine, you wake up in your own fucking bed. Immediately, you get excited to find out if your bro’s dad had “Fun Fun Fun by the Ton Ton Ton,” but the elation about the prospects of your bro having a future stepmother who could star in her own TLC show is quickly eliminated when you glance out the window to see them. A shitload of bro-haters all dressed in black robes and dumbass hats. To this point, you’d been in denial that this day would ever happen, but now it’s here. Graduation day: the worst fucking day in any bro’s life.
While most people aka bro-haters consider graduation day to be their crowning achievement and the proudest day of their life, bros fucking hate it. Seriously, no fucking human is meant to be up at the ass crack of dawn to stand around in some big fucking black robe all day listening to some no-name speaker talk for like an hour about how we need to “Be the Change.” Nobody fucking cares what the speaker says anyways. What did my graduation speaker talk about? I have no fucking clue. My bros and I were busy making fun of the Chinese graduate students’ names in the program (Can you believe that someone is actually named Ding-Ding Wan??)
Even worse than the speakers are all individual awards that are given out. Whenever these fucking nerds go up to accept their awards, I love to #77 heckle the shit out of them, just to remind them how much of a loser they are for trying in school. Honestly, what the fuck does 4 years of long nights of studying, going to all their classes, and working hard get them? That’s right, an extra fucking tassel to wear around their shoulders during graduation and their name in the program. And seriously, after your #14 Dad gets you your first job, no one is going to care what your GPA was in College or the fact that your only extracurricular activity was, “Assistant Social Chair in Fraternity.” Sure, graduating with honors or distinction may mean you studied for four years at a University – but you didn’t fucking go to College.
While the Graduation ceremony itself fucking blows, it pails in comparison to what graduation really means: the end of College. It means an end to the Tuesday night best of seven games of beer pong just because you feel like it. It means the end of setting your alarm for 3pm so you can get food before the cafeteria closes. It means going separate ways from the bros you’ve made a lifetime of memories with. It means the end of a fucking era. While graduation day seems like the end of the parties, good times, and banging strange, I’ve got a secret for you: it isn’t. If there’s one thing that post-graduation life has taught me it’s this: You can take the bro out of College, but you can never take the College out of the bro.
So as they call your name to receive your diploma on that hot May Day, remember the good times you had on that campus. Remember the girls you banged. Remember the shit you stole. But most of all, remember that no fucking piece of paper can ever change who you are: a bro.