Long story, long. TSM.

Having a signature drunk outfit. TSM.

Drinking wine because it’s classier than beer, and because, hello, it has a higher concentration of alcohol. TSM.

Being the reason Michael’s employees have to stay late. TSM.

Having to go back to a fraternity the next morning to retrieve your wallet, keys, phone, and bag. TSM. Sending a new member to do it for you. TSTC.

When your profile picture featuring your brand new little breaks your “like” record on Facebook. TSM.

I’ve been dancing on elevated surfaces since my first recital. 18 years later, I still love it. TSM.

Picking out family letters, but ruling out navy shirts because you can’t wear them with leggings. TSM.

Loving your big to pieces being obsessed with the little you don’t even have yet. TSM.

More excited about the theme than the party. TSM.

Excitedly waiting for your first big/little basket. TSM.

Having more documents on your laptop saved in your sorority folder than all of your class folders combined. TSM.

Not letting the weather get in the way of your outfit. TSM.

Philanthropy events are like the gym. You don’t want to go, but once you’re there, you feel pretty good about yourself. TSM.

College is the biggest tease. It’s like, “Go make your best friends!” Then four years later, “Now everybody move away from each other!” TSM.

I’m not saying I’m a psychic or anything, but judging by my matching bra and panties, it’s going to be a good night. TSM.

“Eyebrows are the new black.” TSM.

The photos from the social being more private than the social itself. TSM.

Making Jello-O shots with a Keurig in your dorm. TSM.

Only Standards can judge me. TSM.