When your standard weekend routine includes writing apologies in an event you’ve called “Sorry Letter Sunday.” TSM.

I shaved my legs for this. It better be worth it. TSM.

Instagram post or it didn’t happen. TSM.

“But then I found out he was a democrat, so I ended it.” TSM.

Using “I’m a legacy” as your excuse for everything, even if it’s not applicable to the situation. TSM.

Yesterday’s dress with today’s shame all over it. TSM.

Inviting your slampiece over to hook up, but not before he gives you the notes for the class you skipped for brunch. TSM.

Going to the gym just to see your weekend hookup in action. TSM.

Guys calling dibs on you three months before formal. TSM.

Having been at the bars hours before they released the school’s decision to cancel classes. TSM.

Memorizing your credit card number way before you memorize any of your notes, because you online shop far more often than you study. TSM.

Being more prepared for spring break than you are for midterms. TSM.

Sewing your boyfriend’s pants button back on after you aggressively rip it off. TSM.

Beating the guys at their own game — whether it’s beer pong or matters of the heart — every single time. TSM.

“That would be so cute with letters on it.” TSM.

Getting more excited about the craft than you are for the event you’re crafting for. TSM.

I like my coffee as ice cold as my heart. TSM.

As I walk through the valley in the shadow of the frat house, I will fear no standards, for my vodka and whiskey they comfort me. TSM.

Braving the elements to get wine. TSM.

Sorry I made you look fat for the sake of myself look skinny with my skinny app. TSM.