Two-hundred and fifty seven days, folks. Two hundred and fifty-seven. Let it roll of your tongues—257—it won’t be long now. Until we once again party like it is 1999.
With theses being turned in, the Class of 2008 is all but gone. Oh sure, we see them in the hallways and on the promenades. But with spring has come spring fever—the seniors are heating up! But this is no regular illness (be still, Isabella McCosh!), in their flushed state our seniors do not lie prostate in bed, they traverse the hills!
Look at them, traipsing around as they do, drunk and lovely, splashing in the Woody Woo Fountain and participating in the Jewish holiday of Pesach.
Yes, seniors. Play-time is here, but play-time is also two-hundred and fifty seven days from now. Pace yourselves, all of you. It is coming: “The 2009 Memorial ‘Party Like It’s 1999’ Ten-Year Anniversary Event” is nigh.
Remember when you thought the world was coming to an end—remember how you squirreled away all those AAA batteries and Nalgenes brimming with water? You were certain that the Wal-Mart run would save you from the Millennial Black-out.
But there is a greater black-out coming. I will not belabor the pun. There is drunkenness afoot, Princeton Community. And by afoot, I mean in exactly two-hundred and fifty-seven days it will be afoot.
We’ve all been thinking about it. Sure, we shared memories across tables in Frist. “Hey Betty, you remember “Clarissa Explains It All”? Yeah? You remember Ferguson, too?”
Or how about, “Mark, hey, hey, Mark. You afraid of the dark? Haha, Midnight Society was effin’ awesome, man.”?
Go on; keep the nineties alive in your lunch conversations, in your mid-day walks, yea, even in your cellular chats. For the time is coming when all this will pay off. The time is coming in exactly two hundred and fifty seven days. And on that day, we will take up the pleather boot, the performance fleece, and the bedazzled belly shirt—for we are but gold body glitter and unto gold body glitter we shall return.