2004-05-12 - 2:46 p.m.

Current Song: Heaven, Rolling Stones

In between the episodic moments of stress and worrying I've taken the time to read my friends diaries, blogs, away messages, etc. Seems like everyone is graduating and either reminiscing about their time at school or complaining about the overload of finals and whatnot that goes hand in had with the beginning of summer and the end of school.

I'm trying desperately to unearth the feelings I had when school came to a merciful end... but I got nothing.

I'll chalk that up to the fact that yes, I graduated (sort of), but I haven't exactly left MU. I mean, I don't sleep through class, write papers at 4am, bullshit essay question answers, or any of that junk anymore. But I do work on campus, interact with the college crowd, work the bar scene, etc.

Current Song: No Use In Crying, Rolling Stones

So I think I'm gonna write a letter to the graduating class of 2004. As a member of the adult work force, I'm dependent on this fresh influx of creative and risk-taking minds to help me increase my salary by making me look more experienced and more responsible.

Dear class of 2004,

I'm writing to congratulate you on your ascension to the rank of real world working adult. My colleagues and I are glad to see that you put the bong and 40 down long enough to make passable marks and earn your degree. With this degree you can now hunt for a descent entry level position that will afford you just enough cash to buy a sofa or some chairs. Or maybe a membership to a gym or something.

I'm hoping that when you come to work at my job place, you will have more earrings then me and much more wrinkly clothes so as to make me look a little more responsible and "normal." I'm hoping that the blue or possibly pink hair dye in your hair hasn't faded yet so that the middle aged women I work with will be more inclined to discuss that then who they could possibly set me up with.

I hope that your exploits of how drunk you got last night, what an incredible BJ you got from that sorority slut, or how surprised the Taco Bell drive through guy was when you pulled up to the window with your cock in your hand instead of your money, will only help to move me farther up the corporate ladder as I earn more and more respect from my coworkers.

But secretly, I hope we will get along cuz I'll be that one guy who still understands your desire to "fuck the man", who still drinks every now and then, and still enjoys a good joke about boobs. I'll cling to you as I try to relive my college days through you, often asking you to tell me in great detail about your latest adventure as I throw in the occasional "Oh yeah! I did somethin like that once!" or "Dude, you should totally invite me out with you sometime!"

Yeah, I'm both looking forward to your new employment and at the same time dreading it. So here's to boobs and drinking. I'm sure we'll get along great. Especially if you're a chick.

Sincerely,

David J. Dale

Marketing Representative, Creative Ad Designer, Public Relations Coordinator & Information Specialist (And Banger of hot chicks)

Current Song: Santa Cruz(You're Not that Far), The Thrills

So there ya have it. I'm out for a little bit. I'll return just when you thought I was gone for good. And I promise I'll have the 50 greatest songs of all time too. I swear it.

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