I’m soooo glad I don’t have to do recruitment this year.
Two weeks of wearing heels and making small talk is actual hell.
While they’re sweating and losing their voices, I’ll be hanging by the pool and looking for my dream job.
I wonder if we’ll do well this year.
I mean, I wonder if
they’ll do well this year. Wow, that’s sad.
I mean, I still belong. I’m still a sister, even if I graduated.
It’s not like it’s “them.” I’m still a “them.” Just, like, a different “them.”
Older. And wiser. And I don’t have to pay dues anymore, so whatever.
But, like, their recruitment pictures are actually really cute.
Why couldn’t we have had that color scheme last year?
THEY GET TO WEAR CROP TOPS?
We NEVER got to wear crop tops.
Not that I can pull off a crop top, now that I no longer have access to the free college gym because of my diploma, but still.
Why do they all seem so happy?
Is recruitment more fun this year?
Is it because we’re gone?
No, it can’t be. They’re just pretending.
Those are fake smiles.
It’s not real happiness.
I wonder if I should visit?
Just to drop off a care package for my little.
I wouldn’t even stay long.
But…what if my key card doesn’t work anymore?
Would they do that?
What if I can’t get into my sorority house anymore?
MY sorority house.
Am I supposed to knock like a fucking commoner?
Ugh. I’ll just wait until Bid Day.
That’s when it’s acceptable…right?
Not being able to go to Preference Night kind of kills me, though.
I really could use a good cry.
I don’t even know who’s going to tell the emotional sob story that makes everyone super depressed and makes it seem like we’re a super great sisterhood.
If I listen to
“Feels Like Home” on repeat it will kind of be like I’m there. With a bottle of wine.
“Feels like home” *sob* “to me…feels like” *sob* “home to me.”
It’s not even that I want to be there. I just…don’t want them to be there without me.
Preffing girls wasn’t even that bad.
I’d totally let a girl look at my shitty scrapbook if it means getting to be there.
Well, at least I can wear whatever I want on Bid Day this year.
So long, ugly rush shirts and booty shorts with heels–hello, maxi skirt.
I need a drink before I see my little and grand-little waiting for girls to run home.
To THEIR home.
No one is running home to me.
Oh, my God.
It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. At least I can get plastered beforehand.
What are they going to do, send me to standards? LOL.
So, yeah, I’ll just walk in like it’s no big deal.
This is awkward.
I feel like one of those guys who never let go of the fact that he was on his high school’s football team.
I THOUGHT WE SAID BEING IN THIS SISTERHOOD WAS A LIFELONG COMMITMENT.
Whatever, whatever, whatever.
Ugh. They are so cute.
I want a Bid Day buddy.
This fucking sucks.
Why the hell did I graduate?
JUST TAKE ME BACK.
LET ME BE A NEW MEMBER, PLEASE.
You know what? At least I don’t have to deal with all the drama and bullshit.
Everyone is all emotional and pissed off because recruitment wasn’t done properly.
Is there a proper way to step clap?
Like, there are bigger things to worry about in life than if a girl is accidentally wearing kitten heels.
How about a job with a steady paycheck?
Or a 401(k)?
Dental and medical plan?
Paying off student loans?
THAT’S WHAT IS IMPORTANT, PEOPLE!
I’m too old for this shit.
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