Saturday night personality with a Sunday morning heart. TSM.

Accidentally inserting a hair flip into your public speaking presentation. TSM.

Claiming to have gotten strictly genetic traits from your big. TSM.

“Does this outfit make me look frat?” TSM.

Saturday night being both the reason you can’t and the reason you must go to church on Sunday. TSM.

It’s not a senior event if no one’s drunk. TSM.

“Apparently, he’s afraid of you.” TSM.

Glitter in your wine is basically goldschlager, right? TSM.

Trying to figure out which sorority your favorite TV characters would be in at your school. TSM.