GRANT: You mean, like, one of those photographers that go around and takes pics of celebs? And, like, stalks them? Oh my God, Ally, that would be, like, so cool! Did I tell you Brett and I finally had sex?

MY DAD: Didn’t you say something about majoring in broadcast journalism? I could have my friend Hugh email you some information. That’s what he majored in, you know. Now he makes six figures.

BRIAN: Learn how to take pictures? Ally, you got a 1980 on your SATs. You could do anything.

My family and friends obviously think I’m playing Russian roulette with my future. The only person I can see being remotely excited for me would be Drew, but since I’m avoiding him, this doesn’t help. Maybe everyone’s right. Maybe it is stupid. I mean, I did hate photography in the beginning. And until I got to school, I had never even shown an interest in photography, much less considered devoting my life to it.

I’m so distraught by all these negative reactions (and the fact that I got them all within the span of an hour—my brother was home for the weekend, and when I called my parents, they all passed the phone around like some kind of horrible triple play on that Debbie Downer skit from Saturday Night Live), that I somehow let Kelly talk me into meeting her at the DK party on Saturday night.

The party turns out to be nothing like I expected. The frat house is dirty and bare, with no furniture to speak of except for a tan couch that may or may not have been tan when it was brought into the house, since there are numerous unidentifiable stains covering its upholstery. It’s best not to think about what these stains may consist of. There is a bar set up in the corner, and a long table where kids are playing some sort of drinking game. Other than that, there is no furniture.

Where do the frat brothers sit? I wonder. I mean, they must hang out here, right? It’s their house. Certainly not on the floor, which I can tell, even through my shoes, is slightly sticky and very dirty. Who knows what kind of disgusting germs could be lurking on this floor, causing them to get sick or die. Like this special I saw on TV once about this guy who caught a flesh-eating bacteria somewhere. It destroyed his whole face. The bacteria actually ate his face. By the time it was finished with him, he had, like, no eyes and half a nose. How gross is that? I think he caught it from old bread or something. If you can catch a flesh-eating disease from old bread, think about what you could catch from a floor like this.