While many of my fellow classmates were galavanting around the tropics or drinking White Russians après by the slopes, I was out changing the world. Yes, that is a bit self-indulgent of me to say, but while you slurped Marianna cherries by the pool, I was breaking my back to help those in need.

Here’s the rundown of my spring break, notably spelled spring break and NOT spraaaang break because I sprung nothing and let no one sprang on me.

My first stop was LA- ahhh, the City of Angels. Here, I committed acts of charity for people more fortunate than I. Luckily for me, my dad has connections from his PR firm and got me in touch with Justin Bieber’s associates.

Ever since the outrage following him saying that Anne Frank would be a Belieber (which anyone of you snoopy perverts who’s read her diary could confirm is true) he’s had a terrible time securing a gardener. That’s why I spent the first three days watering his gardenias and pruning his hedges duty-free. That’s a term you lecherous fucks might remember from Cabo’s airport, and it means tax-free. That’s right, he paid me in cash.

Next, I hopped across the continental United States to good old New York City. If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. After grabbing my obligatory Frappuccino from Starbucks, I began filing paperwork for the old and deserving. By my definition of old, I mean upper forties, because anything more is disgusting, and by deserving I mean the great comedian Louis CK, who is known for being a very funny man and NOTHING ELSE.

Recently, he’s fallen on hard times and his legal team had to lay off a couple of the better- looking paralegals. These poor men. That’s where I stepped in, sorting through papers and highlighting. Think “Clueless,” but more so. I was feeling pretty good about myself, which, let’s face it, is the whole point of charity, but as I scrolled through the newspaper, a provocative headline sent my inner philanthropist buzzing.

“Mother of Twelve Receives Zero Bill After Taking all Her Children to Their Annual Check-Up.” Those poor, brainwashed socialists! I knew Canadian freeloaders could just march into any old doctor’s office and demand free probing and stroking, or whatever they do alone in that room. Luckily for me, I ramped up a lot of frequent flier miles since doing a Perrier ad in Flint for mid-semester break, so I packed my parka and hopped on the littlest plane I could find!

Upon landing in Canada, I marched into the nearest clinic to get a taste of the horror. Here these people are, just expecting handouts and not even waiting in line for them! I offered the nurse my services, but she just called security on me. That’s when I learned that you can’t help everyone, and sometimes all you can do is help yourself. So, I got a free boob job and got back down to New York to offer some new, better services.

So, next year “Saints” (if that’s what you insist to be called), how about you live up to your name and take a page out of my scrapbook. Volunteer at your local conversion therapist’s office, round up some stray dogs to be sold for dissection, or campaign for Trump’s reelection. Whatever your form of service, do it, and do it from your heart.