That’s it. You’re done. You don’t want to do or think about finals or your GPA or anything besides a month besides eating home cooked meals and convincing your parents you “still take long showers” and “definitely aren’t masturbating in there, come on mom that was high school.” All you want to do now is fire hose-blast your brain with Fireball, but you need to do this right. These are your last days in Storrs before finals really fuck you, and you can’t waste them drinking in the bathtub and complaining about your roommates to your journal again.
Step 1 — Leave Laurel Hall Lecture and Cry:
It’s ok to cry. You’re so excited to be done, and yet you still have a week of hell, and that makes you want to give up on life. It’s been a confusing emotional ride, the severity of which you haven’t felt since when you got a boner at your great aunt’s funeral. Just cry yourself back on track.
Step 2 — Go to Ted’s and Get Hammered:
As many a sorority girl will tell you, the best thing to do after crying your goddamn eyeballs out is to get real drunk — and no better place to do it than Ted’s. If you happen to see an angry little fellow muttering about “Pirate Dan” and eyeing the Buck Hunter machine just steer clear. You’re here to do one thing: suffocate your brain in booze for all the pain it just put you through. Stupid brain.
Step 3 — Go to Wally’s and Eat Away the Pain:
You probably haven’t eaten anything besides cough drops and NyQuil (“just to get a good night’s sleep”) the last five days, you need some solid food. Wally’s can serve up a nice tray of brown stuff so delicious you won’t notice the tears.
Step 4 — Write an Ill-advised Drunken Email to Susan Herbst:
The realization that you’re drunk, full of chicken fingers, and can’t recall if you actually took that final or just stared blankly at the weird neck hair on the girl sitting in front of you for 50 minutes settles in. You better assume you bombed that test and, since you’re on your way out, get one last jab in at the Herbstmeister by demanding your tuition money back. This is her fault, not yours.
Step 5 — Pass Out in Your Apartment Bathroom From a Combo of Wally’s, Blue Beavers, and Anxiety:
Sweet, sweet sleep. You’re done with this semester and whatever the outcome — failure, your name on the running “shit list” Susan keeps in her desk, or confused and worried texts from your parents — you’re done. Rest easy, sweet Husky. The semester’s been dark and full of terrors, but in just a week’s time you’ll wake to an entire month of freedom.
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