everyone thinks so...

Guess Who’s Back

We’re back. 

Correction, I’m back. L remembered the password, correction, assword for this public agenda for world domination. So to our adoring reader, Marlee, we’re back.

Sleepyheaaaaaad

Hey World,

Last night I embarked on a seemingly harmless adventure. I went downtown to see Passion Pit play a sold out show at the Tabernacle. I was warned about the kind of people, I mean children, that might show up however nothing could prepare me for what I saw….

Chubby 16 year olds in sequin crop tops and glow sticks on their heads. AND SILLY BANDS!?!?!?!?!?!??!

I HAVE NO TOLERANCE FOR THIS.

1. Don’t they know? Glowsticks are only acceptable at raves when you are tripping on some kind of acid or other legitimate illegal drug. Sorry kids, being drunk off mom and pop’s Absolut doesn’t give you the right to dress like a dick.

2. If you are over the age of 8 you have absolutely no business wearing silly bands. I can not think of a better way to waste money, silly bands are up there with trading cards and shitty kitten puzzles. I suggest you spend your money more wisely that way you don’t have to get shitty sequin tops from Psycho Sisters. Maybe then you could afford to not dress like a brain-dead crackhead.

3. What’s with the figure skating fad right now? Thanks American Apparel for making it acceptable for the public to wear neon spandex and sequins. Now everyone either looks like Michelle Kwan or Mike Myers when he did “Coffee Talk” on SNL.

4. Some people just need fucking manners. I don’t suggest shoving your way through over 5 times back to your spot in a general admission show. That gives the rest of us general admission to call you out and not let you back through, especially when you are wearing said American Apparel figure skating dress. Then you really get shut down.

Also, I don’t recommend yelling “PASSION PIT, PASSION PIT” while the next act is setting up. Not only is it rude, you sound like a dickwad.

And last but not least, if someone gives your incapacitated friend an extra drink, don’t accuse then of drugging them. Yeah dumbass, I gave your way too fucked up friend a roofie, because on top of drug charges, I would love to get arrested for rape. (I would not love to have to sex with a drugged 16 year old… just so we are clear.) Good for you for listening to drug and alcohol class! But maybe if you were THAT concerned.. maybe you shouldn’t have asked the girl in front of me to go to the bar to buy your drinks for you either.

XOXO,

L

A Public Affair

Dear World and the loyal readers of my dear friends L & C,

This is M reporting for duty. L and C have been so kind to allow me to share some of my insight on the world with you, so be prepared for an uncensored, raw glance into the life of an aspiring humanitarian, three toed sloth loving, soup eating individual with little self restraint for whats cooking on the brain. C has already alluded to my scandalous past in the aforementioned post, however I hope no pre judgements have been formed on behalf of my character and ability to convey the world as I see it in all of it’s glory.

Speaking of the world, I had an experience today in which I fell knee deep into what I felt was a sociology experiment. In an attempt to fufill our constant thirst for adventure and all things that are good, Leslie and I set out on our very first vision quest of the summer which coincidentally happened to fall on Memorial Day. We ventured OTP (outside the perimeter for all you NeWbz) to Lilburn to indulge in the lazy river and two water slides at Mountain Park Pool.I could not have been in more perfect positioning for some quality people watching and even some eavesdropping. I usually am not a nosy person at all but this specific occurance in which I will explain in full detail was hard not to become emotionally involved in.

Often times the ideas I concoct in my head are much better on paper than in real life. For example, going to the Mountain Park Pool today seemed like a great idea. Sun, Cool Water, a Lazy River and Two Water Slides sounded like just the right kind of therapy after working a 6 o’ clock AM shift at the bakery. Yet, I forgot to take a couple of things into account. Mountain Park Pool is a public pool, which means it attracts humans from all walks of life. I grew up in a traditional suburban subdivision complete with a homeowners association and four swimming pools/tennis courts, so it was a rare occasion in my childhood that I ever frequented a public pool. Squaretown, U.S.A is what I will refer to the development(not neighborhood!) in which I reside, equipt with tennis obsessed, bunko hosting, card carrying members of the Brookwood Football Association. You get the picture.

The mass of people present at MPP(Mountain Park Pool) was overwhelming to someone like myself who is used to a peaceful and relaxing day in the sun. However, this was far from relaxing. In fact, I became more and more distressed as the day unraveled, due in part to the melodrama occurring to the right of where Leslie and I were posted up. I began to overhear an African American man probably in his late 30’s verbally abusing his wife. They were arguing back and forth however I could only comprehend his side of the story because his yelling was much louder than hers. It seemed as though that the dynamics of this couple’s relationship was right out of my  Women’s Studies books on inequality, patriarchy and the distinct gender roles which continue to deconstruct and infect our society even in the modern day. I was appalled by the lack of tact especially with this man, because let’s face it- fighting in public is tacky and trashy. Not to mention a public disturbance. As I began focusing more on what the man was yelling at his wife, I soon learned he was a complete animal. For example, here are a few things I overheard in their knock down and drag out stab at each other’s most personal character qualities:

- You are nothing. You’re a stupid stupid woman! You would be nothing without Me!

-You have an evil spirit and are God’s Curse!!

-Your DaDDy was a CRACKHEAD! Your Daddy was here on the scale (points to the ground) and I am HERE! (points much higher than previously).

-You are ungrateful and you will respect me because you are my WIFE! You will not disrespect me!

-You stupid motherf**%#^% bitch who can’t even raise your kids right. Go suck some more Dick why dont you.

- I am a SURVIVOR! I don’t NEED you!

and etc. Keep in mind their children were not playing too far from them in the lazy river. Sweet guy, huh?

I suppose this occurrence struck a chord in my inner feminist due to the fact that I also just watched the film, Precious last night. For those of you who don’t know, Precious is a story of a young black girl in Harlem who is severely verbally and physically abused by her mother, and her father who impregnates her twice via rape. I became so emotionally overcome with the feeling of retaliation that I almost mentioned something to the cops who were already there, and now that I think about it I should have said something. There is no excuse to treat a woman ( or any human) as if they are nothing, and it shocked me to see this type of interaction tangibly.

Also, I was shocked to notice the specific vernacular pused  by this oh so sweet man who just wants a respectful wife to obey his every beck and call. This type of language is indicitive of the ignorant and cruel actions of certain aspects of human nature, no matter what color the man’s skin may be, although certain vernacular is more common among certain ethnicities. I hope that woman can muster up the intelligence and strength to leave that man in hopes of finding a mate who respects her and believes in her, however it is clear that with the constant opression and reiteration that she is worthless, it is increasingly more unlikely as time goes by. It got me thinking about myself and marriage and how I never want to be in an abusive relationship like so. Caution and Skepticism still remain the only ideologies in this world I subscribe to, and hopefully it will pay off in grand scheme of things and I will be rewarded with a mate who shares the same respect for the value of women and equality as I do. Remember World, It’s a dark place out there. Always best to carry a flash light with you at all times.

Anyways, I hope this wasn’t too depressing for your liking, but it was a very real and very human day, in which I felt the need to report to you. Hope you all had a wonderful Memorial Day. Summer is officially here!

Still perplexed,

M

it’s about to get human.

Hey World, 

For all of our loyal readers, we would like to say thank you for sticking with us in these difficult times. We have been on a journey to truly find ourselves ourself—we are truly one entity— which has been reflected in our lack of steady blogging. However, due to a recent epiphany, L and I have decided that we need to start steering our lives in a far more hip direction. The true us is way more hip than the sorority girl us. So from now on this will be reflected in every aspect of our lives. Our posts will probably be more concerned with living the oh-so hip lives that we truly lead, without trying to cater to the masses (greek life).  So, get ready for that.

Also, we would like to introduce you to our new guest blogger—M. M will stop by from time to time to share the many thoughts, feelings and life-changing realizations she stumbles upon while getting in touch with her inner Cheech and Chong.

A little background on M:

Raised by wolves, M learned at an early age that the world was a rough place. She quickly learned essential skills in order to survive (i.e. telepathy, spontaneous combustion, berry collection, pan-handeling). At the tender age of six, M said her first words: “let’s party”. And from that day on she was unstoppable. However, the rock-star lifestyle proved to be too much for young M (crack at the age of seven, meth by nine…) and she quickly spun out of control.  After a brief stay in baby-rehab, M got her life together and has been traveling the world on her quest to find the best soup on each continent. We are so lucky that she is able to take time out of her busy soup-hunter schedule to share her thoughts, and we look forward to having her.

xoxo,
L and C

peace, love and soup,
M 

Stuff Sorority Girls Love:

This week’s post is brought to you by hunch punch.

You know you love it ladies. The second you walk into a party, bass thumpin, frat boys grindin, where do you and your girls go? Straight to the hunch punch. Do you ask what’s in it? Do you ask why it is such a questionable color? Do you even question whether or not it is roofie flavored?

Suuuuuuuuuuuuure don’t.

And why is that? Because somewhere in the sorority girl by-laws it must state, “thou shalt not question the contents of a red solo cup that is handed to you by a male wearing greek letters. thou shal enjoy several cups of said mystery liquid until you mouths turn the color of the liquid. at this point you may give up mystery punch in exchange for one or more of the following: shots of any liquor, beer (keg only, please), more hunch punch (of a different color), anything mixed with diet coke.”

why do we consistently return to our dear friend and hated enemy alike, hunch punch? he is like a bad date: sweet at first, but leaves you alone and violently ill with something questionable around your mouth.

but at the end of the day, hunch punch is always there for us. even if we have to wait in a long line, drink it warm, or wayyyyy too strong (ha, as if that was possible) it is there waiting to make our night much more colorful.

so raise that red cup knock back a few of your favorite color/flavor and get out there: the bathroom isn’t going to vomit on itself.

VICTORY SHOTS

Hey World, we have decided that from now on for every new follower we get we will take a victory shot in your name. And document it.

So make it rain!

livin’ my life

Hey world,

FACT: I should be studying for finals with the rest of the collegiate world.

FACT: I’m writing here instead.

I had a fascinating start to my weekend that I find imperative to share with you all. Lately, C and I have been on a total college kick where making fun of greek things just seems to tickle our fancy.

It’s a rare occasion that I get to rage with fratastic brothaz outside of Atlanta. However, Thursday evening I went on an adventure to the buttcrack of Georgia more formally known as Milledgeville. This was oh so special because I got to see these dudebroz in their natural habitat… cheap bars and run-down-shit-box houses.

Every city/region has it’s own distinct vernacular and jokes. I learned some great ones while on the Southeast side of the city such as the following.

1. Locals from Milledgeville are referred to as “mocals” pronounced “moak’uls”

2. abbreviating EVERYTHING is absolutely necessary if anyone is to understand you.

3. my favorite one: “Sorry for partying.”

In context, “sorry for partying” is a really nice way of saying “I don’t/wont remember it so I don’t give a fuck.”

“Dude, you got so wasted bro.. you peed on yourself and then projectile vomited all over that chick.”

       “Well dude, sorry for partying”

It’s clear that anyone who says sorry for partying is not sorry at all and why should they be? I’d be perpetually drunk too if I only had drunken barberitos and a janky lookin’ mall to keep me entertained. Party on, Milly. Party on.

So it’s finals week. And in lieu of studying, L and I have decided to make our comeback. Full force. Each week we will start bringing you deeper and deeper into the secret lives of sorostitutes by sharing one of the many thinks that give the faithful deciples of Greek life their mojo. So let’s start with the basics…

Things Sorority Girls Love: 

Screen Print T’s

Whether they have a mixer, formal, or a really great shit, sorority girls will make a t-shirt for it. It’s as if there is some sort of Bermuda Triangle in frat world, and if there isn’t a T-shirt made to commemorate the experience, it never happened. Without the shirt all of the pictures you took, drunk dials you made, and number of times you vomited on Lamda Ramda Mu’s basketball court suddenly disappear into the Triangle, never to be seen again. Only a pocket T with your Greek organization on the front and some sort of catchy saying on the back (“These are the nights you’ll never remember with the friends you’ll never forget! Spring Fling ‘07!”) can revive said memories. The screen print T-shirt is perfect for any occasion: to the gym, to bed, or on that walk of shame. 

xoxo,

C

FRATLANTA

Hey World,

So lately, I have been going on several adventures to different Fraternity Houses at Georgia Tech. Needless to say, the “frat dynamic” is much different there because they are totally accepting of all things square and nerdy. This includes but is not limited to: video games, tube socks and useless trivia to pick up babes.

Last night, I went to a party including various mixed drinks served in each room with a different theme. Someone bumped into me and the Purple Drank referred to as “Purple Yum Yum” got all over my blouse. No worries though, the Chemical Engineering major in the room told me that food coloring is water soluble and it would come out in the wash. Then he tried to touch me. First of all, I have a big enough problem with the fact that you are okay with calling this drink “Yum Yum”. Second of all, I didn’t ask for a Chemistry lesson Bill Nye so just cool your jets when I question whether or not it will come out. In my limited experience with alcohol, grape drank has had a tendency to stain. So next time you try to use a stain as a means of picking up babes, I suggest you rethink that and maybe try commenting on how nice her hair looks instead. You pointing out that you major in Chemistry and know what you are talking about is about as sexy as a cat’s anus.

In another room, they were serving a delicious beverage with some pretty good jams. However, as opposed to dancing, they sat there and watched the music video. WHY? I mean, I would at least try to learn Beyonce’s sweet moves or just dance around. Maybe they were studying the physics behind her ass jiggling and trying to figure out how many ASPM (that’s ass shakes per minute) she had throughout the Single Ladies video. Yep, that was physics Real Talk. They have a class on it at Tech… don’t worry about it. 

I can play frat-ball with the best of them but the dance moves (or lack thereof) are my favorite. If you are drunk enough you may not realize how horrible they are because you can barely feel your face let alone focus long enough to check out the lack of rhythm and awkward hip- swaying. If both parties are drunk enough it may look like this:

yup, that’s me. drunk.

This lifestyle fascinates me, it’s just so human and so college. Maybe we are slightly deprived at GA State because we don’t have sick nasty frat parties and nice boys to talk to on the daily but shit, at least we can dance.

There will be many more posts documenting these antics.

xoxo,

L.