Stopping to puke on the side of the road while wearing a Sorry For Partying tank on the way to Panama City. TSM.

Always meeting quota. TSM.

Defriending people on their birthday. TSM.

Once the fratstars see me and my SB11 cooler, they’ll be dying to take me to formal. TSM.

Always yoga pants. Never sweatpants. TSM.

I never ask if my outfit makes me look fat. It never does. TSM.

Tiffany’s sophomore year. Lavalier junior year. Pin senior year. Diploma and engagement ring at graduation. TSM.

Pre-gamed Spring Break with Mardi Gras in New Orleans. TSM.

My homework might not be done but my hair and nails are. TSM.

Making a senior fratstar do the walk of shame from the freshman dorms. TSM.

Never repeating an outfit. TSM.

Always wondering why the other daddy’s shirts didn’t have a “horse” on them and having daddy explain “Because the other daddy’s work for me honey.” TSM.

I’d rather go out tonight. I’ll just do my 10 page paper on the plane and buy internet access in Cancun so I can send it in. TSM.

Guys should have no idea what my wallet looks like. TSM.

Not buying Jennifer Aniston’s perfume because I don’t want to smell like a desperate hag. TSM.

Voting for College Republican candidates based on their outfits. TSM.

I sound even more Southern when I’m drunk. TSM.

Went to the Beach Club with daddy, left with the phone number of an older gentleman’s ivy league grandson because he wants us to “meet.” TSM.

Not having a dog that can fit in my bag. The frat boys love my Labrador. TSM.

What was his name? I don’t know, but I know he’s a KA. TSM.