This is my last column after two years of writing for The Cavalier Daily, and, therefore, it carries the onerous burden of being the best article ever, for as comedians and weight-lifters say, you should always end strong.
Whenever I look back on my four years at this University, with the friendships, tests, laughter, hardships and endless assortment of new experiences, I always end up thinking about a maturing, life-changing incident that occurred during my first year: My friend dropped a gallon of milk off the third floor of our Alderman dorm, while another friend stood on the ground in an attempt to catch it gracefully.
Recently the world saw the most impressive feat in female shark history since Susan the sand shark brought suffrage to all female sharks.
"Dance," they told me. "Chris, come on. You can do it." "Get up from the ground," they told me.
Dante, in his bestselling "Inferno" (No. 1 for 700 years), speaks of the seven levels of Hell, with level one being pre-school, levels two through six being DMV lines of different lengths and level seven being airports.
Upon arriving at college, I was positive dental visits were over. They were merely relics of my childhood when some man would stick his fingers into my mouth, feel around, mumble numbers and say, "I'm actually the janitor.
10:00: I'm currently in my English class listening to my professor speak passionately about an important literary topic, although he mumbles so much that I'm not sure whether he's talking about Hamlet or about how cute the Care Bears are (so cute!). But every few minutes, like a dolphin resurfacing for air, I can understand a word he says, and, like a dolphin, I become so excited that I flop around and squeak for fish.
There have been many bad ideas in the past, including Reagan's "trickle-down economics," the invention of headaches and teaching David Hasselhoff to sing.
I'm really happy colleges offer psychology courses. Ever since my housemate Mark took Psych 101, I have been lucky to learn day-in and day-out how many afflictions trouble me.
I am sad to say, readers, that recently I went to rehab. It was basically how I imagined it: Me: My name is Chris Shuptrine, and I am addicted to doodling.
