My monogram spells ‘MRS’ TSM.

I’m not a gold digger. I just have standards when it comes to a man’s finances. TSM.

No GDI, just because you bought me shots at the bar does not mean I will acknowledge you in class. TSM.

Bottom tier fraternity men and GDIs are the same to me. I wouldn’t be caught dead with them. TSM.

Getting sent to standards for posting TFMs on facebook. Doing it again anyways. TSM.

I wish I could major in Facebook stalking. TSM.

Completing an undergraduate degree, with an engagement ring on my left hand and an alumni fratstar surgeon on my right. TSM.

The only fist pump I do is to my fratdaddy. TSM.

Taking shots out of a measuring cup. TSM.

Pregaming with low-cal cucumber mojitos before shoe shopping at Neiman Marcus. TSM.

My dad prefers skiing on the east coast, but my mom and I prefer the west coast. Needless to say we own two ski cabins. TSM.

I hate my friend because she just got mono and will be skinnier than me for beach weekend. TSM.

Having a cleaning playlist on your iPhone. TSM.

Pre-gaming the top-tier fraternity party at the middle-tier fraternity party. TSM.

Going to class on syllabus day strictly to decorate my new Lilly planner. TSM.

Being a domestic goddess. TSM.

Getting the sudden urge to rear-end anyone with an Obama 2008 bumper sticker. TSM.

The sales tax on my wardrobe could buy yours. TSM.

I refuse to marry a GDI because he will never be able to have enough groomsmen to match my number of bridesmaids. TSM.

“She’s my sister and I love her, but…” TSM.