Sorority Forever
Thursday, September 11, 2008Does anyone actually watch this shit? Honestly, I don't really care about those ugly bitches but I want to see if there are any hot frat guys in it!
Labels: sorority
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Ledge parties, for those of you who didn’t attend party-school universities, featured fraternity boys luring their unsuspecting companions to a lair of choice, where they engineered some semblance of sex for the viewing enjoyment of their voyeuristic brethren, who watched from the window’s ledge. Unlike typical fraternity houses, these were contemporary buildings with plate glass windows and wide ledges that formed perfect viewing platforms.
I suspect mine was one of the duller productions, but, alas, I remember none of it. I learned later that some sympathetic brothers had objected to the spectacle and pulled me from the wreckage, which, to me, was remarkable.
Ledge parties weren’t merely tolerated in the fraternities — they were rewarded with knowing winks and backslaps. But my date had crossed a line: Apparently the fraternal code of ethics only approved of the performances when the girls were conscious (albeit still unaware they were being watched).
Long story short, a frat brother stepped in and stopped the show half-way. Her date apologised and dropped out of school. Just as she thought this was the end to a somewhat unwanted drama in her college life, her own sororoties sisters started to gossip about the fallout and blamed her, the supposedly victim, for all the troubles caused. What made her really upset, was that the very women that she trusted the most turned away, made her feel dirty, and betrayed her at a time she needed them the most. At the end, the sorority asked her the leave.
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Fraternities tend to breed a chauvinistic male-male love established in large part through promotion of heterosexual male dominance over differently gendered or gender-identifying people. Through engaging in often sexualized initiation and hazing rites (yes, hazing does occur in frats at Northwestern), some fraternities, by no means all, are engaging in homoerotic behavior for the purpose of establishing heterosexual male supremacy over their peers. Isn’t that kind of ironic?
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Sorority rush at big schools is an interesting process and as I was watching the proceedings it occurred to me that interviewees and interviewers in corporate America could learn a lot from sorority rush.
Potential new sorority members who enter the house smiling, happy, and poised have a better chance of impressing actives than those who look scared, unhappy, or unsure of themselves. It seemed pretty obvious from my vantage point which of the rushees would have a good shot at being invited back for a second party. I could be wrong about some of the girls of course...some of the girls who were quiet or less enthusiastic may have gotten a call back. However, generally speaking, no one likes to be around a sourpuss or someone who doesn't seem confident.
I was a hiring manager for many years and I can say with certainty that candidates who are friendly, polite, and confident have a better chance of getting a job than those who aren't. When interviewing for anything put your insecurities (we all have them!) aside and put forth a confident and happy persona. It will work wonders.
Labels: college, greek life, sorority, work
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Ah, the second semester of the year. Finally settled into dorms and apartments, the lines at the bookstore have dwindled down to the slacking few and students can be spotted nodding off in classrooms across campus already.To the eager freshmen who survived their arrival here at Pitt in the fall, I commend you. You have passed your first test. No doubt your parents assisted you in this feat, your mother breaking down in tears as she made your bed, your father pulling you close for a warm embrace and asking if you need more money before they drove away.
Yeah, that'll change.
Entering my junior year, last fall I had the joy of moving into Bouquet Gardens. This time around, my parents slowed the car just enough for me to grab some of my belongings before tucking and rolling out onto the pavement as they flung the rest of my stuff after me, using the back of my head as a target.
But listen, my children, and you shall hear the embarrassing tale of my freshman year, and why this drop-off at Pitt was a welcome adjustment.
The braces had barely been popped off my teeth as I sat in the front seat between my parents, grinning idiotically at the big, bad world of the University of Pittsburgh as we entered what my parents still refer to as the "big city" of Oakland. After a mere hour or two of looping around Forbes and Fifth trying to find the Litchfield Towers - yeah, it was that pitiful - we pulled into a parking lot loaded with fraternity brothers in brightly colored Arrival Survival shirts.
My parents climbed out and I slid across the bench seat, stumbling out of the car, all the while staring at a fraternity brother who appeared to have a beautiful aura about him. The brothers pointed my mother and me toward the Towers to rent a cart, and offered to help my dad unload the car.
I walked to the lobby in a daze, fantasizing about the gorgeous fraternity brother offering his family's prize cow and $500 to my father in exchange for my hand in marriage. So this is what college was like. Life was beautiful.
Five minutes or so later, give or take 30 seconds, my mother and I arrived back at the car, rented cart and key to my room in tow. The fraternity brothers helped load my belongings into the cart and offered further assistance in helping us to my room.
Miracle of miracles, I ended up pulling up the rear with the love of my life, who turned to me in our first stolen moment of privacy and passionately whispered:
"So, you wrote a speech about sexually transmitted diseases in high school, eh?"
Followed by a snicker and an elbow jab to his frat buddy.
I was nothing short of mortified. In the five minutes that I had left my future husband, my father had revealed the dorkiest secret of my life: I had not only written a speech in high school about sexually transmitted diseases and the alarming prevalence among teenagers, but I also competed in public speaking tournaments with it. Why didn't my dad tell him I was captain of the Reading Team and led them to three consecutive first place wins in junior high while he was at it?
A sort of numbness took over my body. I know that my face must have been glowing the red color of the neon sign for the "O."
I barely noticed that my father did not allow anyone else on the elevator once we finally got one, manning it as though he were the Skipper on a private vessel to the 20th floor of Tower B. Or the fact that he tipped each fraternity brother a dollar for his help.
I'd like to tell you that I became a well-adjusted Pitt student following that tragic day, but it's simply not true. To this day, whenever I see a brother from that fraternity, he is sure to yell:
"Hey, STD girl!"
I swear a freshman that I have never met did it just the other day.
So, congratulations well-adjusted freshmen. And remember to keep the tuck-and-roll drop-off in mind for next year. After all, it's never too late for a dad to mark you with a scarlet letter - or three.
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