Before you can play “Say Yes To The Dress” you have to spend a lot of time playing “Say No To The Bro.” TSM.

Big withdrawals. TSM.

My relationship advice to Taylor Swift: join a sorority and learn how to bake. TSM.

Buuuut I might need it for a function…TSM.

Having an obnoxious amount of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in the shower. TSM.

“No make-up” for ritual means limiting it to concealer, foundation, and one coat of mascara. TSM.

My haircut costs too much to consider putting hippie-trash feathers in it. TSM.

Dietetics require both baking and brains. TSM.

Sorority devoted Pinterest boards. TSM.

If you have a problem with me judging you, take it up with your outfit. TSM.

Drunkenly added my rush crush on Facebook. Oh…no. TSM.

Stressing over typing out abbrevs because you want them just right so they’ll be read the same way you actually say them. TSM.

He stole my heart, so I stole his last name. TSM.

There’s a wine opener in my craft box. TSM.

When asked how PNMs and houses are matched you say, “It’s a mutual selection process.” TSM.

Up the dues, up the girls. TSM.

Changing multiple times a day. TSM.

If you aren’t hoarse and your cheeks don’t hurt, you’re not doing it right. TSM.

“The only thing that separates us from the animals is our ability to accessorize.” TSM.

“Bitch, touch my Martha Stewart glitter again and I WILL burn you with the curling iron.” TSM.