Advice for College Freshmen

I went to an arts and communications school, so pretty much the only thing I’m qualified to do is dance around in a variety of wigs. Regardless, I still went to college so I think I’m at least qualified to give some advice about your freshmen year.

Don’t go out with someone you met at a party if you haven’t properly vetted them. This is actually advice you can heed for the rest of your life, but I feel like it’s particularly important now because you’re going to be meeting a lot of new people.

If you meet someone at a party and you have been imbibing in some sweet, sweet hummingbird nectar like PBR, you might want to make sure that everything checks out before you see them under something other than the soft, flattering glow of a black light. The problem is sometimes even Facebook doesn’t help that much. Case in point, I once went to a frat mixer (just shut up and keep moving) and met this guy at the ice booze luge… BOOZE LUGE.

Booze. Luge.

This kid was wearing a straw fedora…. STRAW FEDORA. And because the chilled vodka spilling forth from a trail of ice was hitting me juuuust right, I was convinced he looked like Jason Mraz. We ended up chatting on Facebook and I invited him to my sorority’s ‘Crush’ party as my crush.. I hate myself so much right now.

Jungle theme Crush party. Riley, Jill, Me, 2010.

Now, sure he didn’t look like Jason Mraz on his Facebook, but I tend to give guys the benefit of the doubt when it comes to pictures because I don’t think a lot of guys photograph well. CUT TO: Crush night. We all meet at my friend’s apartment. He STILL doesn’t look like Jason Mraz. Another thing I do not remember from the frat party: Kid is 6’10. I’m 5’3. It would have looked more appropriate for him to take my friend’s coat rack to this party instead of me. I mean he was nice and everything, and sure I like a tall guy, but God forbid we got married. My Leprechaun: in the Hood hips are not equipped to pass his Andre the Giant baby. Also we’d have to constantly tell people we met while competing in a booze luge competition. All I’m saying is be careful.

Put down the chicken tenders. I have awful opinions about everything that I craft out of some serious anthropological data that I gather from thin air, and one of those opinions is about how many people have to be slightly overweight once in their life. Most people I know (including myself) who were fat as children worked harder in college and their 20s to keep things right and tight, however kids who were skinny in high school get to college and act like they’ve never seen a waffle bar before. Problem is when you gain 20 pounds in college it’s a lot harder to lose that when you’re 23 than it was to lose 20 pounds when you’re 16. Look, I can still fit in my prom dress that I got sophomore year (That’s it. I just wanted you to know).

College Fronds. Caroline, Riley, MOI, Michelle.

Learn how to write a proper essay. This is the most important and practical advice I can possibly give you, and if you listen to anything I ever say let it be this and that you should never take pictures of yourself on the toilet and put them on Facebook. If you know how to write a proper essay and you go to a middle or lower tier college, I can’t tell you the kind of crap you can get away with stuffing into those essays. If the Emerson College administration knew how many times I used Sex and the City as a source in the various essays I wrote, they would revoke my degree. You can’t get away with that sort of stuff if you pass in a clunker, but if the paper flows like Burnetts down a booze luge then you’re   at least looking at a “B.”

So you can take this advice or leave it, but seriously, learn how to write an essay. And watch your drink!*

*That goes for boys too- I know like 5 guys who have been roofied because no one ever tells guys to watch their drink. Sage advice. Brunch for Every Meal, saving lives of young men everywhere.

True Life: I Was a Southern Debutante

I went through a weird phase my first couple years of college where on paper I was essentially some sort of Mississippi debutante. I had the same personality and same sense of humor as I do now, (at least I think so. Have I changed since I hit it big moderate with all my blogging success efforts?) except I did things that a young woman raised by Delta Burke might be interested in.

It first started when I was in high school and decided that I wanted to go to college in the South. I ended up going to James Madison University in Virginia for a hot, hot second, but got the hell out because I couldn’t bare to hear the words ‘sweet tea’ anymore. I know some Southerners who are quick to point out that their kind are not racist or homophobic, and I won’t counter that. I’ll just say that there was a Confederate flag memorabilia store next to the Victoria Secret at the mall. And at an orientation event about diversity, a kid got up and said into a microphone to a couple thousand freshmen that homosexuals were pedophiles (which was met with exactly half the crowd cheering and a quarter of the crowd booing). Bright side, there was a Chic-Fil-A on campus (which, turns out, they give a lot of their money to anti-gay groups. I’m not trying to make any kind of point here). Anyway, living in the South was not for me, so I transferred to Emerson College in Boston.

I definitely don't belong in the South, but I do have a soft spot for Texas. That's my friend Riley and me on a BOAT. In all my years in NH I have never, ever partied on a boat.

In the span between starting school at James Madison and ending with junior year at Emerson, I dyed my hair blonde, joined a sorority, and entered some pageants. And I did it all with a navel piercing.*

To preface this, I did meet some of my best friends in Emerson’s AEPhi, and embarrassingly enough, I met girls who will be in my Muppet themed wedding one day (embarrassing because it’s cliche to say that, not because I want a Muppet themed wedding), so I don’t regret anything.

I blurred out some faces to protect their identities. Plus I don't want to give their faces free advertising. The one on the far right is future bridesmaid, Michelle. Also, the editing in this photo is against everything I stand for, and I didn't do it. I just needed to say that for my own peace of mind.

That’s me and my pledge class on the night we first started pledging or as I remember it, the last time all the sisters didn’t hate me. Without getting too into the traditions and stuff, there were a lot of rules and dumb stuff to memorize, which I… did not. By the time I graduated, most of the sisters hated me less. (How can you hate someone who has so many funny voices up her sleeve?! Have you heard my Cher impression)?

I was just not cut out to be in a sorority. I’m a lone unicorn– independent. I like to back out of any and all social functions at the last minute. Those qualities are not conducive to being a good sorority sister since to be in a sorority you are expected to socialize. Bleccch.

Then I did pageants, which you can read all about in this post. Another thing I was not cut out for.

Who is that person???

Shortly after this pageant, I started to move out of my Mississippi debutante phase. Right now, I’m in whatever phase it’s called when you live at home with your parents, wear sweat pants all day, and your main hobby is maintaining a blog and drinking by yourself. So, like, a very sad phase.

*It’s important to note that the navel ring has since been removed.