It’s senior year and we’ve all swam in the Kokosing, smoked at sunset point, made out at sunset point, gotten too drunk at Send Off and dreamed of becoming a great chef, despite being a rat in an intensely rodent-phobic profession, moved to Paris to follow this dream on the advice of a rotund, french acid flashback, and with the help of a weak-ass garbage boy as our beard, worked in the kitchen, and eventually got the chance to prove our culinary abilities to a daddy long-leg lookin’ food critic, who turns out to have been bullied as a child and just needed some squash to feel better. 

But again, it’s senior year and we have to find something new to do to pass the time before we kick the bucket, and finally descend from this hill that has looked more and more like a collection of dentist’s offices since we’ve gotten here.

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