A proper sorority girl is like an apricot: sweet and adorable exterior, but hard as stone on the inside. TSM.

I’ve already designed my OU Weekend cooler. TSM.

We use so many acronyms at my internship that my natural comfort with abbrevs totes gives me a leg up. TSM.

Spanish prof asked, “What was the most important event in your life?” I immediately began to describe bid day. TSM.

Making an Excel spreadsheet for all fall recruitment outfits. TSM.

Being pulled out of class in middle school to go shopping with dad. TSM.

Part of me wants to run the state. The other part would be fine with running the PTA. TSM.

Buying glue sticks in bulk. TSM.

Martinis at a dive bar. TSM.

Big/Little poke war. TSM.

“Shit, where did he throw my norts?” TSM.

Lilly’s new sorority prints better be done by fall or we’re going to have trouble. TSM.

A true lady knows it is far easier to be given forgiveness than to be given permission. TSM.

It’s my birthday weekend. Nothing else matters. TSM.

“You’re a rich girl and you’ve gone too far, ’cause you know it don’t matter anyway.” TSM.

Dad just texted me, “You and Lilly have some explaining to do.” TSM.

Can’t you just, like, call a pledge? TSM.

Using a new one to make the old one jealous. Works every time. TSM.

Sticky boobs are one of the world’s greatest inventions. TSM.

Being friendly to girls you don’t like just to get good gossip. TSM.