DISCLAIMER: NOTORIOUS B.R.O (BIGGIE SKOALS) IS NOT CONDONING SUICIDE, HOMOCIDE, FRATRICIDE, OR ANY OTHER TYPE OF –CIDE OF ANY KIND, NOR IS HE ACTUALLY CONSIDERING IT. Now without further ado -
In the midst of all the chafes and late night grinds that Finals Week has dastardly thrown our way, I find myself thinking a little differently. Maybe it’s the Adderal. Maybe it’s the coffee. Maybe it’s the Focalin. But let’s get something straight—it’s not the Skoal. The Skoal is pure.
As I sit here in BrO’Neill, attempting to study for my first of 4 finals, I’m starting to get the feeling (as many of you have and eventually will) that I could possibly be fucked. In this particular class: I didn’t buy the textbook, attended 4 (maybe 5) classes the entire semester, and to be honest, I don’t really even know what the class was about.
On the first day of class I semi-read the syllabus and immediately saw the words, “Podcasts, notes and Power Points will all be posted on Blackboard Vista.” I then decided within milliseconds that I would never go to this class ever again and still possibly pull off a miracle A- if the stars aligned in my favor.
Well my friends, needless to say I was wrong. Podcasts? Useless. Notes? Jibberish. Study the textbook? Only option. Well I’d still be fucked even if I had the textbook. Now on top of all of this, after I realized I was fucked, I did what any sensible man would do: I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my mint Skoal. Well, chafe me baby one more time… the tin was empty. Back up tin? Empty.
So then a thought occurred to me: “Hey, what if I just jumped off the roof of O’Neill right now?” What if I just climbed up there, hung up the ol’ cleats, called it quits, and just jumped. Splat. Finals Week? What Finals Week? I’m dead, I’m cuello, I can’t be touched by Finals Week.
Don’t get me wrong here, this thought clearly has some obvious downsides to it. To name a few, I’d be dead, might go to hell for suicide, and it’d be a chafe of a cleanup for the custodial services (shout out to the blue-collar bros, the O-lineman of the BC faculty, love what you do guys).
Now I’m not condoning suicide by any means here, but it’d be downright ignorant to take no notice of the upsides of this endeavor as well: 1) I obviously wouldn’t have to take any finals—fresh. 2) I’d get a double, possible triple gainer on the way down, so I’d go out in style—fresher. 3) I would without a doubt make local news, possibly national, and maybe even ESPN (OK, the Worldwide Leader is a stretch (though it shouldn’t be when considering my boss of an athletic background)). 4) I’d make Barstool—“Does This Look Like the Face of a Broston College Superfan Who Decided to Jump Off the Roof of a Fucking Building Because He ‘Hates Getting Chafed'?” Now this Barstool one has some sub categories of upsides all to its own. a) I love haters. b) Judging by my pics on Facebook and general history of posing for pictures since I was a toddler, the mug shot under the caption would probably be heroic, and if I was rocking a Broston College T-shirt (Fall ’10, coming to a dorm room near you) our hit count would go through the roof. c) Barstool's El Pres would be publically scorned for life for making fun of a dead kid. 6) My d-bag teachers would feel like shit for a year or two. 7) My bros might make a fresh remix of “Every Step You Take” in my memorandum (like Puff did for Biggie). And here comes the kicker—7) Finals might get cancelled. Yeah, You're welcome everyone….
Plus, if this "suicide = auto hell" thing turned out to be a farce, and finals did actually get cancelled, I’d get some serious props in heaven for stepping up (or stepping down if you will) by taking a fat bullet for the bros. Not to mention the levels of raging that would occur upon my arrival at the Pearly Gates (hopefully I'll be in a tuxedo), in which I’d throw St. Peter a quick two's, shot-gun a Bud Heavy (maybe 14, who knows), beer dragon the scrub waiting in line behind me and proceed to de-clothe myself (why not?). Mouth cancer and alcohol poisoning are clearly a non-factor in heaven (casual fist pump), so with the unlimited supply of Skoal and Nattys waiting for me on the other side, limits would most definitely get pushed.
But in all seriousness, finals aren't that bad, stop being pussies and on Saturday (when I finish finals, I don't care when you finish) we rage.