Editors Note: This piece is brought to us by Pledging Sucks and was written by the site's sorcerer, The PledgeMaster. Yes, he's a frat Bro; no, he's not a GDI. For more tips and literature on all things fraternity related, head over to PledgingSucks.com. Below you will find the PledgeMaster's list of the 10 most glaring reasons why he thinks pledging sucks.
Your wardrobe makes the transition from Hollister and American Eagle to food-stained, ripped, wrinkled, khaki pants, along with dollar-store polos and worn-out boat shoes. Doing laundry? Fuck no... there’s no time. Your outfit is thrown on and off countless times no matter how wet or rank. For the time being, the Salvation Army and cheapest Wal-Mart clearance items serve as your newest mall must-haves. It takes a solid 12 weeks of hell to transition into the beloved Sperry’s, Polos, Guy Harvey, Costas, chinos, and a visor. Even then, a few years is needed to truly develop a wardrobe of frat perfection.
If you’ve ever spent a lengthy vacation with a buddy or two, you know how it goes: The guys you’ve loved for years can become major jackasses, and it doesn’t take long for you to want to rip their heads off. Here comes pledging, the age-old vacation of first-year college boys. Whether stuck with 30 post-pubescent, h*rny, testosterone junkies in the fall, or a smaller group of 15 cocky, egotistical alcoholics in the spring, there comes a point when you hit the wall. After 12 weeks with the same group of guys, you f*cking hate them. Unity is stressed all throughout pledgeship; you want take unity and shove it up your pledge brother’s ass.
Your ideal slampiece walks across the room. You grab two drinks, and work your way through the crowd to make a move. The good old days of hitting on the sorostitutes with a drink in-hand are over. Problem? Pledgeship is cock-block central. Where should I start? How about your sexy outfit. Nothing screams PLEDGE more than stained khaki pants with a tucked in polo. Don’t forget about the ultimate accessory: a symbolic pin on your heart symbolizes your status as a b*tch. Next problem: You can’t drink, you’re driving tonight. Pledge rides are the greatest invention known to frats. Last (and largest) problem: No matter how close you are to closing that blonde, a brother won’t hesitate to jump on in. It doesn’t take much: a mere look of hatred, or a text that reads “f*ck off she’s mine." A brother has first rights on all women, and a pledge would get his shit rocked for even attempting the sloppy-seconds. As a pledge, cock-blocking is just another form of hazing. But hey, it’s not hazing — it’s brotherhood.
7. Frat-Style ROTC
If there’s one slight upside to the hazing lifestyle, it’s the fact that your body just might look slightly better when all is said and done. Just like any workout session, pain is involved. Push-ups, sit-ups, sprints, squats, pull-ups, wall-sits: the list goes on and on. Each hazing exercise is made unique to each fraternity. Recite the alphabet while you sit against the wall, do push-ups in the shape of an A (Alpha), or form your body in the shape of a Z (Zeta) when you do pull-ups. They’re gay as shit, but they make brothers feel oh so special. They pat themselves on the back for creating a new hazing technique. It’s an art of frat-passion. Hazing in the form of calisthenics might be the most common form of hazing. It’s not the roughest thing, but it’s an everyday occurrence. You’re a little army b*tch, except unlike ROTC, your drill sergeants are beer-bellied a**holes who have nothing better to do in their life except f*ck with pledges.
6. Not-So-Golden Corral
You’re always f*cking hungry. If you’ve developed a classy beer belly in high school, you can kiss it goodbye. Pledges are thrown the scraps of dinner, almost no time to eat on their own, and literally starved during hell week. Yes— pledges are always f*cking hungry. The meal of choice is fast-food, ideally Taco Bell and McDonald's. Now this isn’t a bad thing, but if you’ve ever seen the doc*mentary "Super Size Me," you know how f*cking disgusting McDonald's is after eating it the fifth time in one week. Either way, the development of a solid beer belly must come after pledgeship, unfortunately. Most pledges drop a few pounds-- very un-frat-tastic.
Alright, this gets a little personal. And this must be brought to the forefront of all the bullshit. I f*ck you not when I tell you that pledges have no spare time. You get up, go to school, serve lunch, study (sort of), serve dinner, get hazed, pledge drive, and pass out. Do it all over again tomorrow. There just isn’t enough time in the day to reward your eyes with YouJizz, or MILF Hunter. Your manly jewels are left lonely, day after day after day. You find yourself getting hard at the most awkward moments. It’s almost as bad as that chick from last year not finishing you off like a broad is supposed to. It’s a man’s issue, and it sucks. Thank you pledgeship, my dick still hurts.
4. Designated (insert item here) Driver
Dip, cigarettes, toilet paper, beer, Checkers, liquor, girlfriend… They want it, you gotta get it. Now if there’s one thing (and one thing only) that any traditional parent would approve of — it’s the fact that frats encompass built-in anti-drunk-driving protection. Pledges make the world just so much better. But you better believe pledge-driving blows. Usually a couple hours long, driving can last from 7 p.m. to 5 a.m. You run shifts, write a schedule, blow hundreds of bucks in gas money, and get your car f*cked with. Life’s a joy. You’ve worked your ass off all day, are about to pass out, have an exam the next morning and you haven’t studied. Tough shit. The role as the designated driver is seriously important. The Brotherhood would die a quick death if no sober drivers were around to fuel their drunken munchies. That would be devastating.
The entire essence of pledgeship revolves around the concept in which pledges are f*cking clueless. From day one, (and hopefully continuing up until the final hours), pledges have no idea what is happening, who is responsible, and what the f*ck comes next. It’s all mind-games. As a pledge, you may have a small understanding of how mind-f*cked you are, but you continue to walk blindly into the darkness and jump off the bridge when told to. If chicks were as easy as pledges to get mind-f*cked, then we’d all be paying child support. Secrecy is key, and as long as a brother doesn’t open his drunken mouth, pledges will never know who exactly is f*cking them over most. Pledging sucks because it f*cks with your mind, you just don’t know how much. Here’s a piece of advice: more than likely, the nicest brother is running the show. But hey, you didn’t here that from me. You’re mind-f*cked, remember?
If you’re a pledge, then most likely school doesn’t mean shit to you. I mean, you might be smart and all, but you’re pledging a f*cking frat for a reason: to get shit faced and laid on a daily basis. That’s just the reason why pledging sucks so much— it’s almost like you’re in a mini-private school. You have to memorize so much goddamn shit it’s not even funny. First off, you better know the Greek alphabet better than your own birthday. Learn it, recite it, and never forget it. And if there are 150 brothers in the frat? Start learning, pledge. Names, birth dates, hometowns, facts… it just doesn’t end. You thought fraternities didn’t give a f*ck about school. Well doesn’t that suck; you’ve inherited a 10-credit course called PLEDGESHIP. Failing out is dropping, getting a C is quality, and getting straight A’s is just plain dick-sucking of the brotherhood. So get your pen and pencil, and prepare for countless nights of pointless memorization. It might actually teach you a thing or two about studying. Studying… ever heard of it? You will now.
1. Hell Week
Well, you know a week of your life is going to be pretty shitty when it’s titled “Hell Week.” And no, this isn’t one of those play-on-words where the actual event is completely opposite of what was first described. Hell week might be one of the most painful, challenging, and f*cked-up weeks of your life. This is not an exaggeration. The worst of the worst involves a weeklong sleepover at the frat house: starvation, pain, misery, and humiliation. If you’re lucky, they’ll let you go to class. As soon as that bell rings, you better get your ass back to the house for continued beat-downs. Hazing ranges through all sorts of levels; after five days of living in the same room (or cage, square, tent…) even the smallest activities can be gruesome to those enduring the pain. Of course, these situations are relating to the most hard-core, passionate frats. Yes, there are p*ssy frats that merely makes their pledges wake up at 3 a.m. and go find a stick that’s 24.3-inches long, exactly. And maybe give them a call to do it again at 5 a.m. Big whoop. How about not eating for 7 days? How about sitting outside in 30-degree weather while being pelted with water balloons? Seven days of “fun” as some describe; 7 days of ego-altering. It’s the fitting finale to a semester of hell, and the only true reason nine out of 10 pledges survive hell week remains the fact that the light at the end of the tunnel merely gets brighter as the days ensue. Hell week is the cherry on top -- oh, what a painful f*cking cherry to swallow.