Personal Goals for Senior Year, Pt. 1

Just the other day I woke up, stuffed Alf doll in arm. Wiping my eyes and turning off my Hello Kitty alarm clock with a swift pound of the fist I realized “Woah man, it’s my senior year”. I know, I know – “That’s what your article’s about? Who gives two shits about you, Hadge?” Well Mom, I’ll tell you who. The entire senior class is in the exact same boat right now, and we’re all thinking the same thing: we’ve wasted our time. Sure, booze and Family Guy marathons are all well and good, but in the end, what have we really accomplished in our four years at Fordham? Maybe this all boils down to the fact that Fordham is, in concept and execution, a “B-’’ school. The faculty, the staff, and especially the students, myself obviously included, just seem to want to do the bare minimum so there’s more time for getting shitfaced, assfaced, I know that I for one have been feeling that my better days at Fordham are yet to come, and that most of my unfinished business will take place this year. The time is now. The place is here. This is the moment. Don’t stop me, don’t stop me, don’t stop me. And so on.

Operation: Don’t Waste Senior Year begins immediately. That being said, here are just a few of my goals for this upcoming senior year of mine:

Figure out just what makes the Dining Marketplace so Ultimate
Discover what makes the squirrels so black
Try that weird scraped ice coconut stuff they sell every five feet on Fordham Road.
Walk through the underground cross campus tunnels
Put some cheese in the underground cross campus tunnels, and just let it sit
Pull a senior prank for the ages, something clever like putting Father McShane’s car on the roof of Keating, or kidnapping a rival school’s mascot. Look out, NYU Violet!
Hijack a tour, leading the group of unsuspecting high schoolers and their parents into the cheese-stinking underground tunnels.
Protest the volunteer fair, for union purposes
Protest the club fair, for laziness purposes
Protest the career fair, for unemployment purposes
Protest the protestors at The Vagina Monologues, because they need to be slapped
Have a special named after me at Pugsley’s, preferably containing free pizza for life, and carrying a price tag of eighty-six thousand dollars
Find out what kind of meat they actually use for the cafeteria burgers (Rumor: Remember those kids who “transferred”?)
Have the statue of Ignatius eliminated and replaced with a statue of Steve Irwin
Successfully have the new parking garage dubbed “The Optimus Prime Memorial Automobile Containment Center of Justice”
Understand Sal Pugsley as a man…and just what he’s saying
Bring the “golden Ram” statue to life, utilizing magic of course. Then, I’d ride it around campus, and people will discover just how “cool” it is to have a ram as a school mascot when you’re scraping its excrement off your shoes.
Drop out and reregister as a mysterious freshman named John Jacob Jingleheimer Shmidt, just so some bastard can claim that it’s his name too.
Pass a new law that requires the Young Democrats and Young Republicans to merge as one and dammit, just get along
Accuse The Ram of sexual harassment, and thus end its hundred year reign of terror
Raise an army of misguided Fordham Prep kids to rise up and help me overthrow
Overthrow the United Student Government with a United Student Coup
Discover a remote third world country named Nads, just so I can round up a group of eager young students to throw a bakesale to support !Go! Nads.
Build Alphalpha House, a haven for painfully mediocre students, on Alpha House lawn
Sneak into the library without swiping my ID, and then run like hell. By the time they catch me, it will be too late. I will have already stolen knowledge.
Expand the yearly production of The Vagina Monologues into a month long affair, culminating in an extravagant parade around campus containing floats that look like vaginas and balloons…that look like vaginas. The debate over whether or not the parade is appropriate for Fordham’s campus will be broadcast live on Fordham Nightly News with full twenty-four hour coverage.
Form the B-tards, Fordham’s first all physically challenged a cappella group.
Attend a Fordham sporting event, and then leave after the first quarter because it’s a Fordham sporting event
Convince Hughes Hall residents that coked-up seven-way orgies are not the best way to meet people
Become a Jesuit, because I haven’t been able to bring them down from the outside.
Convince a Queen’s Court resident to perform a striptease as their “Knight Court”.
Convince a Queen’s Court resident to perform a “Knight Court” about the show, Night Court.
Join the Fordham basketball team, because I want a free iPod and PSP. Hello again, tuition money.
Meet the crazy religious preacher man with the loud speaker on Fordham Road. I’ll invite him over for Bagel Bites and Tang, while we discuss the political hot topics of the day. Of course, all of his talking will be through his bullhorn. I suppose those two big black guys who always stand behind him will have to come too. If all goes well, a game of Scrabble will commence.
Sneak into Keating tower and replace the “bell” CD (yes, it is a recording) with Styx’s Greatest Hits, leading to a one o’clock toll of “Laaaadaaay when I’m with you I’m smiiiiiiiliiing”, a two o’clock “I’mmmmmmm sailinggggg awayyyyyyyy, set an open course for the virgin seaaaaaaas”, and a three o’clock “Domo aragato Miiiisterrr Robotooooo”. It will be glorious.
Ride a bike onto campus while holding a paper bag without flashing my ID to a guard, proving my long held theory that all you need to enter campus is a bike and a bag full of drugs.
Take a Ramvan ride that doesn’t contain the following: traffic; a driver who speeds up really fast and stops really fast in traffic; loud rap music; freshmen who haven’t yet learned how to act in public; someone talking in Spanish on their cell phone; never getting my change back; a conversation about “this guy who didn’t last that long”; a large man who pushes you into the middle seat of the bench despite the availability of every other seat on the van; someone turning around and saying “she’s my roommate” in response to my “That Sally Stevens – what a bitch!”
Eliminate the “randomness” of the housing lottery number distribution, instead giving out the best numbers based on a calculated list of the richest, smartest, prettiest students. Then, they shall all be placed in a singular Martyr’s room, allowing me to jump out of the closet and yell “Psych!”
Add a neon “Hughes” sign and valet parking to the front of Hughes Hall, giving off a suggestion of class and cleanliness. Of course, the insides will remain urine stained and roach infested.
Convert Rodrigue’s Coffee House into a full out 1920’s speak-easy by night. By day, it shall remain a haven for society’s misfits. (I’m typing this from there, btw)
Dress up as an EMS staff member for Halloween
Through a grave misunderstanding, end up taking care of thirty-five alcohol poisoned Fordham students on Halloween
Somehow get Oasis to be open after 9 PM, and to not completely suck, like that band.
Go out for dinner at the Howl at the Moon Restaurant around 1 AM on a Friday, and complain to our waiter about the drunk overly tanned girl with blonde streaks puking on my mozzarella sticks, while a kid with a popped collar holds her hair back, and her shorter, far-less-attractive roommate keeps saying “Hang on Megan, it’s gonna be alright! You’re beautiful!”
Successfully transform the basement of Finlay Hall back into a morgue.
Assemble several out of work musicians to join the Fordham University Choir, giving the group some much needed real star power. Like Jesus Jones, Right Said Fred, Milli, Ronnie James Dio, Kris Kross, the guys from Chumbawumba, Sebastian Bach, Axl Rose, Reuben Studdard, Taylor Hansen, and Sir Mix-A-Lot have anything better to do.
Start a civil war between Alumni Court North and Alumni Court South
Rock and roll all night and party ev-ah-ry day

If all goes well:
Graduate