It didn't work like that for me:
First year: Ferris Beuller's Day Off.
Finding myself back as a first year student (after completing a CS degree), I didn't see the point in trying (or, indeed, attending), like I had four years earlier. So I stole my best mate's dad's car and got up to hi-jinx. Of a sort.
Second year: Up In Smoke (or possibly Brad Pitt's character in True Romance).
Stoned every day. Never smoked any labrador, though.
Postgrad diploma: Withnail & I, in terms of the drinking and failing to land work.
Drank and drank and drank and failed to secure work. Resisted amorous attention from my stalker.
The six month period after the diploma was akin to the last forty-odd minutes of Apocalypse Now. And then I got a job.
