7 More Things Post Grads Deserve

April 15th 2014 

 We’ve been over this.

But not twice.

Thing is.

Whether you’re a batshit hoodlum with graduation just around the riverbend.

You going crazy on that riverbend right now.

You going crazy on that riverbend right now.

 Or just a kickass post grad KILLIN IT in the real world

Gary has definitely overcome is anger management since college. Definitely.

Gary has definitely overcome is anger management since college. Definitely.

 

This post is the perfect pre-game or the necessary reminder of what life post 22ish should damn be like.

Olive, Penny, B and Chelsea present:

7 More Things Post Grads Deserve

1. Straight up RESPECT.

Damn straight.

Thing is.

When you graduate and shiza, peeps (a.k.a people. Not that sketchy ass candy)

Peeps-jail-107239341717

Oh for sure.

 

Don’t judge you by the X’s on your hand. The beer spilled down your crushed velvet leotard #costumesocial, or the guy/girl

(…maybe even a hybrid of the 2…)

climbing out of your goddamn window.

I mean. Whatever you're into man...

Whatever you’re into man..

 WHY?

Because you, my friend, have a big kid job, and are by default taken seriously because you’ve surpassed the age of 22, and can SOMETIMES just SOMETIMES can tell the difference between Popov and Ketel one.

GET ON HER LEVEL.

GET ON HER LEVEL.

 

Sure you might be the same old dipshit making the same dipshit mistakes…but this time? People HAVE to treat you like a functional member of society. In fact, they might even go so far as to trust the shit out of you.

(classic mistake)

2. Parental Independence.

Phone calls from mom about the suspicious $98.00 charge on your visa at a bar called Heavy Hands?

NO LONGER.

Parents helping to move you home for the summer…only to find three boxes of glow-in-the-dark condoms stashed in your sock drawer?

NEVER AGAIN.

Judy doing the laundry and finding a half-ripped toga from the rogue street fight gone greek just a few nights before?

It was just a small get together...

NOT ANYMORE.

 That’s right. Awkward surprises BE (mostly) GONE.  Say bye to parental turmoil and embarrassment.

Why.

Bye.

 

And say HELLLLOOOOOO to adulthood independence.

HELLLLOOOOOOO

HELLLLOOOOOOO

 

Except when you go home for a home-cooked meal.

…And call the pops for car trouble.

And ask Martha to sew your pants back together (again)…

But besides that.

IM FREE AS SHIT.

IM FREE AS SHIT.

3. No. Fucking. Homework.

Need I say more?

Cool it, buddy.

Cool it, buddy.

 

Das right bitches. You twerk that 9-5 and then…

THAT’S IT.

YOUR WEEKENDS BELONG TO YOU AND ONLY YOU.

Do you know what that means? Binge-watching six hours of Dexter on Netflix in your underpants while double fisting a slurpee in one hand and buffalo wings in the next is YOUR GODDAMN RIGHT.

Look away.

LOOK AWAY.

 

And come Monday morning, nobody needs to know what the FUCK you did with all that extra time.

Not your business, Bertha.

Not your business, Bertha.

4. Better Post-Party Clean Up.

You read me.

 Thing is.

In the “real world” the chances of your party guests actually throwing their beer cans in the goddamn trash can instead of on the floor, on your bed, in your hair, or in your FACE decreases by approximately 69%.

Glad you could make the party Timmy...

Thanks for coming over, Timmy.

 

WHY?!

Because in post-grad land, it becomes socially mandatory for people to BRING THEIR OWN BEER instead of mooching off of your cheap-ass shit. Heck, you may even get bottles of wine FO FREE if you call it a “housewarming party.”

Well then I hope you brought your own shit, Polly.

Well then I hope you brought your own shit, Polly.

5. Rent money.

Rent money.

Is a bitch.

BUT.

(With New York as an absolute exception)

The answer is yes, this is the entire apartment.

Yes, this is actually an entire apartment.

 

Your dolla can go a lot FARTHA once you peace on out of dorm rooms, frat houses and questionable apartments alike.

Please move on. Please.

Please move on. Please.

“But my house wasn’t trashy!” you say. “It was all part of the experience!” you say.

Shut your cake hole.

Because what I’m about to say is damn true and damn nice.

NO LONGER will your parentals (potentially even you) be paying out the ass for trash city, but rather, you could spend half as much or the same amount for a goddamn palace that could even have enough room so that you could absolutely do THIS

Party at my place.

Party at my place.

5. Twerking out – WITH RESULTS.

So maybe you hit the gym in college.

Whether it was alone:

funny work out gif

No regrets.

 

Or with a friend.

Double time.

Double time.

 

But.

Lez be honest.

Most of our college careers were spent breaking fucking EVEN.

20 minute run to balance 4 hours of binge drinking post-gamed by pizza?

Said the drunk girl to EVERYONE.

Said the drunk girl to EVERYONE.

 

Thing is. You did your due diligence as a semi-active college kid.

But I’m hear to tell you something kind of great.

 Regardless that your metabolism will plummet in a matter of years.

 BEFORE IT DOES.

 You can do the same damn twerk out and pair that shit with some broccoli and lower your binge drinking to just TWICE a week instead of 5 and you will (probably) see some LEGITIMATE RESULTS.

Goddamn you look good.

Goddamn you look good.

6. “Fulfilling” Your Sexual Endeavors.

 Sayonara “one pump freshman.”

Good times. Kind of. Not really.

Our romance was…brief…

 Guys and girls (mostly girls?) all over the world REJOICE because the time has come where you can have orgasmic success from a man.

Not a toy.

7. Wardrobe Revival.

So you’ve got attachment issues.

Fantastic. Me too.

 But not to people.

Fuck that.

I’m talkin about t-shirts, jeans, THAT sweatshirt, dem shoes.

You know.

The ones with the: pit stains. the rip in the crotch. the hole in the sole.

And to that I say

You heard the bitch.

You heard the bitch.

 

And look at those 4 year survivors and say

adele

Because you will.

And it’s called TJ Maxx.

And there you have it. 7 MORE reasons surpassing the days of binge drinking days and considering taco bell as a main food group makes you a goddamn champion.

Except Fergie.

 She’s got some work ta do.

Still needs some help. And a chalupa.

Chick still needs some help. And a chalupa.