I am a geologist.

Here's me and my gramma at the Rose Garden on the big day.

I expected anticlimactic, but instead I had a freakin fun time gradumicating on friday afternoon. First, the reception catering was pretty damn good - lots of little finger foods and what-not. And they gave me medal. Hey I'm not braggin - who said I was braggin? But its gold. I love....gooooolllld.

Then we got our cap and gown and went upstairs to Keorners' and pounded back some good-luck shots. Specifically, they were Dr. Peppers. And I felt a LOT better after that. In fact I'm sure thats why I didn't fall down the stairs after crossing the stage. Later on, I heard Stoo and Lee got trashed right before too - that explains all the snickering as I walked by. Hey stoo - don't laugh. You were wearing a goddamn dress.

After that, I got tipsy with my parents, my gramma and Meg (my sis) at Vintropolis, and then stuffed my face full of meat at Aqua Riva. They spoiled me absolutely rotten and I didn't deserve it at all because I wouldn't have gotten through this goddamn degree if it wasn't for them. I should have been spoiling them. Weirdly enough there was a high-school grad going on at the Pan Pacific as we were eating, and it turned out it was my old alma mater Terry Fox! PoCO! Seems as the years go on, the girls get poofier and more neon in colour. The guys never seem to learn that a white sport jacket is just about as smooth as a comb-over.

After that, we dropped the car off and headed to the Bourbon for some smashy-smashy. That was also excellent, as Meatball showed me her (exquisite) bum, I got groped repeatedly by Josh, I drank about eight double-tall seabreezes, and the staff was playing some absolutely ridiculous music which made Mike feel spastic. I'm not sure what yuppie demographic the Bourbon is trying to appeal to all of a sudden with the new rules about no pitchers after 8pm and the easy listening yet 90's grunge vibe, but the regulars are still coming, and I don't think they're about to leave. Might as well get used to us, people. At least we're not puking in the corners anymore.

One more pic of Rex and I being gimps.

T-minus eight days and counting until I become that dirty bush girl again. I'm gonna make 'em count.