I’m pretty sure I always have the right of way. TSM.

Resting Bitch Face. TSM.

It’s not the hands you shake. It’s the orgasms you fake. TSM.

Keeping clothing for all four seasons in your closet at all times. You never know if you’ll have a Boats and Hoes mixer in January. TSM.

“I’m over it,” either meaning “I’m not even a little bit over it” or “You’re dead to me” with no in between. TSM.

Remembering to grab your charter even when the house catches on fire. TSM.

Only wearing leggings, dresses, or skirts. TSM.

Your boyfriend being complimented on how good you look. TSM.

Assuming it’s a compliment when people compare you to Barbie. TSM.

Skipping your first day of class. TSM.

Nothing giving you more anxiety than your standards chair looking through pictures on your phone. TSM.

Looking good in your mugshot. TSTC.

Never wearing pants to the bar. TSM.

Late to class. TSM. Latte to class. TSTC.

Your weekly workout taking place on the frat house dance floor. TSM.

Putting your letters on your date’s cooler, so everyone knows who made the best one in the cabin. TSM.

A semi-drunk 9am Starbucks run being the only thing keeping you alive during syllabus week. TSM.

Saying “bye” without actually leaving. TSM.

Your standards chair blacking out more than anyone you know. TSM.

Regularly putting your bus boys’ job security at risk. TSM.