I’m very happy with my life right now. Wads of cash oozing out of my pockets like marmalade oozing out of some rich guy’s pockets, flocks of beautiful women swarming me at every corner, a Gameboy Advance SP, man, I’ve really got some good shit goin’ for me.

But one thing had been missing from this nearly perfect life until recently: I’d never had a real, useful, annoying catch phrase. That pitiful state of being, however, has ended, all thanks to the local Gap on Main St., which recently closed its doors, sparking in me the ever versatile, ever repeatable, ever chafing catch phrase, “close the gap.”

Like, say I’m in, I dunno, Camden, NJ, and I’m getting mugged. I can say to the mugger, “Hey, man, be cool, be cool. Close the gap.” BAM. No more mugger, just me standing there triumphantly.

Dude, I feel like Checkerboard Nightmare over here. Never before has a catch phrase so catchy been catched by this little catch phrase catcher over here. Catch.

“Excuse me, sir, would you like to take a survey to benefit the orphans?”

“Click! Close the gap!” This is so great.

So when you’re watching the final season of Friends this year, keep an eye out for me. Me and my new catch phrase are sure to be in the second to last episode. OOH, or maybe even the final episode! Ooooooohhhh, I can taste it now. I’ll be all, like, making out with Jennifer Aniston, and then Brad Pitt’s gonna come on and he’ll be like, “Yo, dork! That’s my girl!” And I’ll be all, like, “Y’know what, Brad? Close the gap.” And he’ll be all, like, “NOOOOOO!!! I’VE LOST HER FOREVER!!!” And then I’ll touch her boobies. Oh yeah. Close the gap, baby.

Close the gap.

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There are many interesting phenomena to be experienced in the college environment, aside from the requisite sex and alcohol. One of these is freshmen. Freshmen are a rare breed, making up a mere one-quarter of the typical student enrollment at a college. They exhibit several strange behaviors, not the least of which is a social tactic known as the swarm, sometimes also referred to as a tribe, pack, flock, herd, or paintball target. The behavior involves the spontaneous formation of a large group of freshmen. This group then proceeds en masse to a single destination, usually a social gathering, or party, where the males of the swarm are turned away, and the females are brought indoors for mating.

When not in a swarm, freshmen are generally difficult to discern amongst upper-classmen to the untrained eye. There are some overall trends that one can look for - males will tend to be dressed in clothing made specifically for beautiful people called Abercrombie & Fitch and females will tend to be noticeably sluttier than normal - but it can take many years of conditioning for one to be able to accurately pick freshmen from a crowd.

As a fifth year college student, I consider myself to be quite advanced at this task. No one is perfect, though, and even to this day, I find new means of determining which students are freshmen as I pass them on the street.

Today, I created yet another freshman-identifying technique. This approach takes advantage of another phenomenon of the college environment at a public college in Newark, Delaware called the University of Delaware - also known to locals as UDel or just UD - known as the Street Preacher. The street preacher is a mid-height, medium build, short-haired, 30-something male who stands on a local thoroughfare called S. College St., in front of a group of four classroom buildings known as the Quad. Here, he speaks to, and is subsequently ignored by, passersby, telling them about the Judeo-Christian deity known as God.

The typical upper-classman is accustomed to seeing the Street Preacher on a daily basis, and thus pays him little, if any, heed. It is here that the key to identifying nearby freshmen lies, for the typical first-year student is not so familiar with this local want-to-be-spectacle. This causes the freshman to discuss the Street Preacher with other nearby freshmen. To locate these particular freshmen, one need only listen carefully. Freshmen communicate in a language not at all dissimilar to English, and so one should, with minimal practice, be able to easily determine their chosen conversation topics.

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Well, here I am, back at the University of Delaware again, getting started on Volume 5 of the Ray Earns His Bachelor’s series of novels. Man, if you’d told me four years ago that I’d be pulling a five-year gig down here, yeesh… I wouldn’t have been your best friend, I tell ya whut. But hey, it’s all fine and well and good and groovy. One more year I don’t have to grow up, right?

Ow. Ow ow ow. Freakin’ bug just flew in my eye. Ow ow…

Meh. What was I saying? Oh, right, duh, it’s right there for me to see. Ha ha.

So yeah, fifth year of undergrad over here. Now, I’m happy as all get out get with it get down Snoop Dogg about it. At the very least, it keeps me from having to wade through a crappy job market while I blindly wait for it to heal.

But there’s a catch to my luxury. Take a quick look at the timestamp on this post. Notice that I’m posting late on a Friday night. Why am I doing this when I should be out drinking and doing things I’ll likely regret when my memory returns in the morning?

Strange, ain’t it? Well, see, in order to do something like that, you need to know people who did not graduate last year, which I, for the large majority, do not. So while my old friends from my class are out busting their sphincters in the real world, I’m here sitting on my sphincter in the fake-ish world. Somehow, I don’t think either of us is worse off than the other.

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