Dear Graduating Seniors, Never Enter the Real World

I owe so many people money. Someday Sallie Mae is gonna kick in those kneecaps and I’ll need to start frying up my own liver as compensation. But for now, I’m not fucking graduating. I’m 26 and I technically don’t need to start scrounging for coin until I graduate. I’m going to be finishing my communications degree until the day I die. But if you don’t have the good sense to just fail public speaking, here are some ideas for how to not be in crippling debt and homeless for the rest of your life.

Drop out. Run far away while you still can. If you are a freshman, this will save you. If you are not, then you’re fucked. You still have debt, but you won’t have a piece of paper that tells the world that you analyzed the socio-political influences behind the Great Emu War.
Donate your firstborn to a creature that can string straw into gold.
Get hit by a car on campus. Let some jackass in a Honda Civic pay your tuition. If you have a car at university, we know daddy set up a trust when you were a bald shit weasel. This is sharing the wealth. Either that, or you have a family home non-dysfunctional enough that you’re willing to live there and commute. Fuck you. Pay my tuition.
As a last resort, get a job. There aren’t many that will pay off your debts. However, some include: hitman, mule, egg/fluid donor, whipping boy for celebrity baby, art thief, freelance orthodontist. Don’t try to sell your body. No one wants it, fugly.

These sound too hard, right? This is why you should just do what I do: exercise squatter’s rights in McMahon for the rest of your life. Run up a tab from Center Table, get told off by your teenage roommate for leaving cans of Rainier all over the dorm, and try to cope with the fact that said teenager is having more sex than you and you know that because he sleeps in the top bunk.