I knew I was going to hire her the moment I saw my letters written on her resume. TSM.
I knew I was going to hire her the moment I saw my letters written on her resume. TSM.
She’s really nice, but that doesn’t mean I want her in my sorority. TSM.
“Who colors my hair? God. Nice dye job, though.” TSM.
I don’t buy my pearls. I inherit them. TSM.
Unless you want my sorority colors, school colors, or America’s colors I have no paint for you. TSM.
The closed-mouth squint-eyed head tilt with “It’s so nice to see you.” TSM.
Any yoga I do is hot yoga. TSM.
Starting the summer as his intern. Ending it as his girlfriend. TSM.
And I would like, totally want her to date him, but he dated that one slutty girl from that slutty sorority…sooo what does that say about his taste in women? TSM.
I will be conducting the Hot Mess Express this evening. TSM.
The only thing that makes my sorority’s hand sign better is the engagement ring on my left hand. TSM.
Practicing for formal recruitment since bid day. TSM.
The constant battle between your tan lines from the pool and the tanning bed. TSM.
Spending my internship planning preference night. TSM.
The worst part about studying abroad is the lack of social hierarchy between Greeks and geeds. TSM.
Being other girls’ thinspiration at the gym. TSM.
Feeling slightly satisfied when your fitness app tells you that you’re not eating enough calories everyday. TSM.
Heavily judging your favorite fraternity’s groupie sluts. TSM.
Betty White calling vodka a hobby. TSM.
Appreciating a clever passive aggressive comment even if you’re not involved. TSM.