By cute I mean you look hideous. TSM.

Dashing dreams, one fat legacy at a time. TSM.

My parents never had to tell me to go back upstairs to change into something more classy. TSM.

The best sandwich made is when I’m in the middle. TSM.

I won’t make you a sandwich, but I’ll buy you one. TSM.

The worst part about coming back to school is not having my maid unpack my bags for me. TSM.

The only boys that can get below my Mason-Dixon Line are those who have pledged under it. TSM.

I purposely ask girls I meet if they are freshmen, just to lower their self-esteem. TSM.

Even my dog is designer. TSM.

Resorting to crash diets and eating disorders to get thin. NS. Eating healthy and working out every day. TSM.

Some Ohio State fans asked my pledge sisters and me why we were dressed up for the Sugar Bowl. We said “welcome to the SEC.” TSM.

I know how to handle a stick shift. TSM.

If I want my house to smell like cookies, I bake cookies. I don’t light a candle. TSM.

Whenever asked for my recipe I always leave something out. TSM.

The people who bought my old house converted it into a bed and breakfast. TSM.

Just call me Blackout Barbie. TSM.

I don’t pay less than $28 for gym shorts. TSM.

Bloody Marys for breakfast in Daddy’s box at the Saints Game. And I don’t even like pro sports. TSM.

I don’t have to wear slutty outfits to get a fratdaddy’s attention. I’m a blonde. TSM.

I don’t date actives. Call me when you go alum. TSM.