White Trash Wednesday
The Wednesday part just makes for nice alliteration. Plus, it’s a good excuse to get weird on Hump Day. Just be sure not to confuse those hipster kids trying to get in for legitimate attendees of your party. I know the flannel and PBR can be deceiving, but real rednecks don’t wear women’s pants. Or squeal when you pull on their lip-rings.
At least that’s what some frats call it. It’s winter! It’s cold out! Why not dump two tons of sand in our basement and crank up the thermostat?! Now, I know clean-up duty on this one sounds like a pain in the ass, and it is. But pledges exist for a reason.
Singles wear green; couples wear red; people who want to cheat on their significant others who are away for the weekend wear yellow. Is it pithy and childish? Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’ll save you two hours you otherwise might have wasted trying to romance and lubricate some doe-eyed subject just to experience that boner-crushing moment when she offhandedly mentions her “boyfriend.”
Tight and Bright
For centuries philosophers have debated one of man’s great questions: is seeing all your boys in neon stretchy pants worth seeing an equal or greater number of delicate young slampieces in neon stretchy pants? I would contest that brain-buster with another: why are you looking at your Bros’ packages with all them lady parts on display? And lose the cucumber; you’re not fooling anybody.
CEOs and Business Hoes
Thanks for that Brooks Brothers suit, Mom and Dad. I know I haven’t been able to win any of the internship interviews I promised yet, but I do have these sweet photos of me doing Jell-o shots off of the slightly fuzzy belly button of some freshman girl who forgot how to button her shirt. Senior year is great! See you on Turkey Day.