Anti-Anxiety meds, a teasing comb, and pearls are a girl’s best friends. TSM.

Knowing my place in life. On top. TSM.

Making my fratdaddy a deer trophy mount cake for his birthday. TSM.

My purse costs more than your entire wardrobe. TSM.

Facebook profile picture crop out. TSM.

Having an entire room solely for crafting. TSM.

Never having to ask, “Does this make me look fat?” because nothing ever could. TSM.

Wine before being called into standards so I can relax. TSM.

Future MILF. TSM.

My dad never created a college fund for me when I was a baby, because he didn’t need to. TSM.

Mint Juleps. TSM.

The back doorbell at the sorority house now rings “Here Comes the Bride”. TSM.

Daddy’s little girl always gets what she wants. From a new car to our very own TSM tab. TSM.

“How much wine did we drink last night?” “The whole box.” TSM.

Yes, my fur coat and Chanel purse are real. So is the 9mm Beretta Daddy also gave me for Christmas. TSM.

Pearl tan lines. TSM.

Breaking out the Norts because it’s over 50 degrees today. TSM.

We don’t wait in line. TSM.

My geed roommate plays pokemon with her boyfriend. I have sex with mine. TSM.

Doing my fratdaddy’s laundry he sent home from Iraq. You know, just washing off the debris from defending our freedom. TSM.