Apparently it is not, in fact, possible to stay in college forever. The fact that there aren’t mass amounts of really old students on campus is one clue, but for me, the real tip-off has been the fact that every single person on the planet has asked me what I want to do when I graduate.

My usual reply to questions like this is, “”Not a fucking clue.”” This tends not to satisfy most people, however, because “”not a fucking clue”” is not an actual occupation. (Though if it were, I feel I would be damn good at it. I would be the CEO of Not a Fucking Clue, Inc.)

So, since — apparently — I can’t not have a clue for the rest of my life, I needed to review what kinds of jobs I might have.

Now, as a communications major, I am not actually qualified to do anything. I mean, I like to communicate as much as the next guy, but when it comes down to it, communications is not a recognized occupation.

What am I gonna do when I go into a job interview and some boss-type guy asks me what my skills are?

Me: “”Well, I can sure communicate. It was my major.””

Boss-type: “”Um, yes. But can you type?””

Me: “”If by ‘type,’ you mean talk to the keyboard, well then yes I can!””

Boss-type: “”Er, what exactly does communications teach you, then?””

Me: “”We’re doing it now.””

Boss-type: “”Doing what?””

Me: “”Communicating.””

Boss-type: “”So this is it? This is what you do? That’s all?””

Me: “”Yup.””

(pause)

Boss-type: “”You don’t do it very well.””

Me: “”I know.””

So my major isn’t going to help me in the career field. That’s OK because my dad knows what I should do with my life: weather girl.

I am dead serious, folks. My dad thinks I would “”be really good at being a weather girl.”” Great. My father thinks the only things I’m good at are standing and pointing. And let’s not forget being blonde (which I like to think I do fairly well). Forget a job — I’m clearly going to be in therapy until I’m 57.

Actually, I think being a weather girl would be harder than it looks. Think about it: Being blonde is truly a full-time job. It’s a life commitment, really. But as a weather girl, I would have to multitask. I would have to be blonde while standing. Sometimes, I would have to be blonde, stand and point, all at the same time. I really don’t think my time at UCSD has adequately prepared me for that kind of work.

Actually, I know I wouldn’t be a good weather girl. I know this for one simple reason: I am always cold. I don’t care if it’s 80 degrees outside; I’m wearing a sweatshirt. And if it’s below 75, I’m busting out the heavy-duty jacket. And if it gets below 70, forget it: I’m wearing four layers of clothing, a jacket and I’m going to whine about how cold I am until someone gets me an electric blanket.

So, if I’m in charge of telling people how cold it is outside, you know what the answer is always going to be? That’s right: cold. I don’t think very many people are going to trust my weather skills come June, and bam! I’m fired. And then I’m back to where I started before my dad and his big idea came along: needing a job.

Maybe I should look back on the jobs I wanted to have when I was a kid. One of the first things I wanted to be was a marine biologist. The highlight of my year used to be Discovery Channel’s “”Shark Week.”” I was one of those freaky (and boring) kids who could identify every kind of shark and how fast they are, which is basically the amount of time it takes for one to bite your leg off.

This knowledge, of course, made me terrified of the water. Notice that I didn’t say “”the ocean.”” I mean I refused to enter any body of water. It took me four years before I was willing to take a bath, and the deep end of the pool? Forget it. So marine biologist is out.

I also wanted to be a psychiatrist. I figured telling people they’re crazy would be fun. And don’t get me wrong — it is. But being a psychiatrist would require me to spend time with people — and actually listen to them — a lot more than I am willing to do. Besides, I don’t need to be a psychiatrist to tell people they’re crazy. Hell, I do that now. So I’m not gonna be a psychiatrist, either.

So basically, I have no idea what I’m going to do after I graduate. But if anyone wants a job at Not a Fucking Clue, Inc., I’m the woman to see. Pick up an application today!