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My exchange program culminates at the end of this school year... at which time I must return to my home country... where I do not have many friends. I would like very much to spend my remaining days here as your assistant. Okay. We're just gonna do a little word association. Say the first thing that comes to your mind. Milk. Tit! Oh, Mommy. Most Indians would say "cow" because they are sacred... but I hear �milk," I think giant jugs. You see, I cannot go home a virgin. I came here to study the great American art of muff diving. To smack clam, munch rug... dine at just one American pink taco stand. You know, I wanted to-- how is it-- park the porpoise. I want to take it through the car wash, baby. And get it waxed. I want to wax it. Wax it! You know, and air dry. Air dry that shit, yeah. And I would like to be your assistant very much... Mr. Van Wilder. You'll need a copy of my class schedule so you can take notes. You'll also handle my finances. I lecture at the freshman crisis group every other Monday. I'm spearheading the Save the Swim Team Speedo Spectacular... and the Bloated Belly Beer Bash to Battle Bulimia this semester. This is Sick Boy's room. Not a week's gone by he hasn't had an ailment. Shingles, hepatitis, crabs. That was his fault. - Matzo ball soup. Jewish penicillin. - Thanks, Van. Don't pick at it. Moving on. I'm moving my 7:15 to 8:15, my 8:15 to 9:45... and my 9:45 till Wednesday. You owe $75,000 for the speed boat. Cancel my guest lecture at the Wharton School next week. I feel like going somewhere tropical. Tahiti. Are you writing this down? - Yes, sir. - You owe $200,000 for the thoroughbred. Schedule a massage after my golf game tomorrow afternoon. - With a happy ending? - Ah, yes. And another $39,000 for your son's tuition and housing this semester. Tuition? Van is still in school? For the better part of a decade.