DTF: Down To Frat. TSM.

I’m a nursing major, and everyday I hope they’ll go back to making nurses wear little white dresses instead of those awful scrubs. TSM.

“The next time you forget you’re Blair Waldorf, remember, I’m Chuck Bass. And I love you.” TSM.

I didn’t have my daddy buy me D’s, dye my hair blonde, or drink slim fast. I was born with good genes. TSM.

I wish Facebook had an option to look for a guy by their fraternity. Sometimes that is all I can remember about them. TSM.

Missed recruitment for a breast augmentation. TSM.

I drink wine imported from Italy, not cheap box wine. TSM.

Reading Decision Points to learn more about my ideal husband. TSM.

Our dishwasher is making a strange noise. Probably because she’s outside shoveling the driveway. TSM.

Already have my little picked out for next year. She’s a senior in high school. TSM.

Too skinny to have boobs, but buying them anyway. TSM.

Some geed told me I should take a feminist class, I told her sorry that class isn’t in our test bank. TSM.

My fratdaddy would never let me be seen in anything less than a Brooks Brothers shack shirt. TSM.

All of my jewelry is insured under Daddy’s insurance policy. TSM.

I wasn’t a late bloomer. TSM.

Lost my headphones, looks like it’s time to buy a new iPod. TSM.

Parents coming in town for a visit. Telling them to pick me up from the fratcastle when they get here. TSM.

Needle-pointing in class instead of paying attention to lecture. TSM.

Using the adjective “tragic” to describe new members. TSM.

Drunk texting my mom. TSM.