If you need me over winter break, you can find me on the dean’s list. TSM.

Getting sent to a standards hearing at a house you’re not even a member of. TSM.

Final essay: tipsy by the conclusion, throughly sloshed by the time of submission. TSM.

The struggle you feel when a TSM post pertains to you perfectly, but you can’t share it without being called to standards. TSM.

The Victoria’s Secret runway being made out of glitter. TSM.

Chasing your Addy down with Starbucks. TSM.

Struggling to pretend you feel guilty, not proud, at your standards meeting. TSM.

When he somehow ends up apologizing for your drunk texts. TSM.

Emily Gilmore. TSM.

Getting mixed reviews on whether or not you actually made it to formal. TSM.

Being the sole reason a fraternity starts nominating sweethearts. TSM.

Doing wine bottle crafts, because you have an excuse to drink the wine first. TSM.

Women belong in the House…and the Senate. TSM.

Knowing that you’ll still get a lot of presents for Christmas, even though you’ve been naughty all year. TSM.

Keeping a shotgun in your closet right next to your heels. TSM.

Getting sent to standards and slated for chapter president, all in the same evening. TSM.

Having themed aprons for each holiday. TSM.

Sending an “Are you alive?” text in lieu of a “Good morning” text. TSM.

Focusing on your Christmas crafting while your boyfriend is focused on his finals. TSM.

The passive aggressive Instagram like on a frenemy’s post. TSM.