I’m not spoiled, I’m…ok, I’m spoiled. TSM.
I’m not spoiled, I’m…ok, I’m spoiled. TSM.
Cap and gown registration needs my height with shoes. How am I supposed to already know what shoes I’ll be wearing? TSM.
“Does he know he’s taking you to formal yet?” TSM.
From my daddy’s house, to the sorority house, to my husband’s house. TSM.
On Bid Day, we wear pink. TSM.
Drinking Franzia counts as doing French homework, right? TSM.
I imagine my husband to be just like JFK, minus the whole being a democrat thing. TSM.
I am not a jersey chaser, I prefer uniform enthusiast. TSM.
If your last name doesn’t make my monogram look cute, don’t even bother. TSM.
Holding your note cards together with a Bobby Pin. TSM.
I reward 20 minutes of studying with an hour of online shopping. TSM.
I’ve got 99 problems but a bid ain’t one. TSM.
The nonchalant frocket check to see what fraternity he is in. TSM.
Making randos throw your hand sign on Spring Break. TSM.
Talk to her? I wouldn’t even repin her. TSM.
“We should totally hang out sometime!” TSM.
Flirting with your Big is completely normal. TSM.
Judgement eyes. TSM.
I have two responsibilities when it comes to my fratdaddy: belly full and balls empty. TSM.
You say single, I say in a longterm relationship with fun. TSM.