It's that time of year again. That one week of the year that you actually open your book and try to figure out what your major is. That's right…finals week. All of that not going to class and homework-copying will finally come back to run you over with some sweet, sweet karma. You see the Liberal Arts majors frollicking about campus, talking about going to the bars that night, how they finished all of their projects a week earlier, and have no tests to worry about. You hate them. Good, use the hate to fuel yourself. You're gonna need it. It's time for finals!

Putting the 'fine' in 'finals'

Outfit: Nice shirt, clean jeans. Hey – why not? You gotta dress for success!
Hygiene: Showered, shampooed/conditioned (2-in-1…good enough), and hair gelled to perfection.
Diet: A bowl of cereal in the morning, a sandwich for lunch, and some spaghetti for dinner. Oops! You spilled a little sauce on your jeans. No time for laundry now though, you've got more finals to study for!
Mood: Hopeful, chipper. This won't be as bad as last semester's finals, or the one before that, or the one before that, or…well, you get the idea.

Final(s) Destination

Outfit: T-shirt, jeans with a little bit of spaghetti sauce on them.
Hygiene: Still pretty clean. Nothing a little deodorant can't cover up. Hair perfectly messy – chicks dig that "just got out of bed" look, right?
Diet: Oops! Missed breakfast. That's okay, you had a burrito for lunch and some Easy Mac for dinner.
Mood: A little tired, a little nervous. That final yesterday didn't go so well. But how were you supposed to know it wouldn't be open book, open notes, and open-ask-Malcolm-what-he-got-for-number-5? Today's will be better.

Putting the "als" in "finals?"

Outfit: Hoodie, jeans with some spaghetti sauce and beans on them.
Hygiene: Starting to get a little rank. Nothing a little cologne can't hide. Hair is getting more greasy by the day. Maybe it's not the "just got out of bed" look, but the "just stayed up all night and haven't showered in two days" look that chicks swoon over. If so, your time has finally arrived.
Diet: Lots of coffee and leftover pizza and breadsticks your roommate was going to throw away. It's only been under his bed for, like, three days. Five day rule, right?
Mood: Dead tired, cranky. You pulled your first all-nighter, but ended up reading Lostpedia for most of the night. That time-loop theory is crazy, right?! Oh yeah, tax accounting. Probably should have paid more attention to your book. Or taken notes…but that would have required going to class instead of playing Halo 3 and watching Family Feud all day.

Putting the "OH GOD KILL ME NOW" in "finals"

Outfit: Stained sweatpants found in the back of your closet, mismatching socks, and an wrinkly t-shirt. No time for contacts today, just bust out your glasses that you haven't worn in two years. You're not trying to impress anyone, it's finals! Time to roll in comfort and squalor.
Hygiene: Even the flies are starting to get offended by your stank. Oh well, nothing a few cans of Axe can't disguise, right? Your hair now has the grease content of a frying pan full of bacon.
Diet: Red Bull and two bags of Flaming Hot Cheetos you stole from the gas station.
Mood: Unnaturally relaxed, woozy from lack of sleep. You're past the halfway point, and can hardly remember what day of the week it is. Studying has become difficult, as you can barely blink without falling into a coma-like sleep. Your organic chem final shouldn't be that hard, right? When you reach the point of welcoming death, tests seem kind of trivial. You go through life in a haze, unsure if you're dreaming or not.


Outfit: The same dirty sweatpants as yesterday and that hoodie from Wednesday. So what if it's 70 degrees out? There's vomit covering your sweatpants and hoodie, although you have no idea if it's yours or not. You wear your shoes but forget socks, as if it matters.
Hygiene: No one will go within 20 feet of you. The Axe spray particles die when they get near you. Hopefully the hoodie and sweatpants will keep your rank odor confined until finals are over and you can shower. Your patchy half-beard still has Cheeto crumbs in it and you probably have at least Hepatitis-A. Your immune system has finally given up, and you can't really blame it.
Diet: Your own tears, your roommate's birthday cake his parents sent him.
Mood: Horrified, nervous, stressed. You snap out of your daze and realize you have really screwed up this time, but it may be too late. You haven't slept in three days and you definitely haven't studied for this last test, which you need to pull a B on if you want to pass. The line between reality and dream-land is completely gone. Remember that dream where you went to take a test and you forgot to study? That happens. Remember that dream where you go to school naked? That happens too. It's only a matter of time until you win the lottery and run away with Kelly Kapowski, right? That doesn't happen. You are arrested for public indecency during the test. Just like last semester.