Pamela Armstrong ’12, sitting in her throne made of gold coins and eating her money sandwich, cannot understand in the slightest why you are concerned about being thrown into the cold, unforgiving, gold-plated arms of real life.
“Seriously, don’t be so dramatic about life after college,” she said, lighting a cigar made entirely of dollar bills. “What’s the worst that could happen? You’d have to wash your favorite hundred-dollar bill dress yourself instead of getting it dry cleaned? You sound so spoiled right now.”
“Some people have real problems, like getting kicked out of their place into a slightly smaller mansion made of pesos,” she added, taking a drag and coughing up a diamond.
Although neither you nor Armstrong has a job lined up for life after graduation, Armstrong remains convinced she is ready for the harsh reality of living with an unlimited income in a high-end neighborhood on the hard, platinum-paved, ruby-studded streets of the real world.
“I mean, even if you don’t get a job, you’ll always be able to move back home and live under your parent’s roof made entirely of giant checks for as long as you need to, right?” she asked while casually replacing her toilet paper roll with a fresh roll of money.
“I guess everything is a little bit more expensive post-grad, but you could always throw a few low-budget banknote burning bonfires on the weekends if you wanted to scale back. It looks like I might have to.”
In addition, if at any point you were for some reason no longer able to afford your daily limousine rides to unemployment, Armstrong suggests you should not be embarrassed to take your spare Jet Ski made of ground-up ancient jewelry, even though she would be.