As a senior member of Greek life, I consider myself an expert in the art of the frat party. I’ve been to countless rush parties, grab-a-dates and semi-formals during my college career, and I know just what it takes to make or break one. And in case you’re curious, I’ve assembled the crucial elements to create a typical frat party.

So gather round and listen up as I go through the essential ingredients to have the ultimate (and by ultimate, I mean typical) frat party. (Get more Greek life right here!)

1. Jungle juice in bright, possibly neon, colors. Every great party has a Gatorade cooler filled with Everclear,  a package of Kool-Aid,  and some mystery brew. Ladies beware, this concoction will be high in sugar (to mask the alcohol), and high in regret potential. It will also stain the sh*t out of your favorite dress and turn even the quietest of girls into life (or mess) of the party. Get a few recipes right here.

2. Frat stars in polos/jerseys with pit stains a mile long. Basement parties get really super sweaty from the body heat of 100 people jammed into one room, grinding one another into the wall. So guys in hats and polos dripping in sweat is a frat party necessity. By the end of the night, it might even be sexy.

3. Pledges at the door. They’re checking names and chain smoking and trying so hard to look cool. Throw them a bone and act like you actually care if you’re on their little list.

4. Beer pong. No matter how soon you arrive, there’s a list a mile long to get on the table. And by the time your name is finally called, you’re already upstairs making out with the cute guy from your stats class. Or you’re home, changing out of your jungle-juice-stained dress.

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It’s finals week and snowing here in the Midwest; what a lovely combination. I can’t think of a better way to take a study break than to snuggle up by the fireplace with a few pledge sisters and talk about our upcoming winter formal… the reason why I return to school second semester every year… the highlight of January!

Woof.
Who am I kidding? Faking it is not something I’m great at so I won’t even try.

Winter break is days away and that means literally only one thing for a sorority girl (OK, besides presents): winter freaking formal. It’s what every sorority girl looks forward to, right? What she spends her winter break thinking about and shopping for. The sorority event. The night that every potential new member dreams about and counts down to. The stuff sorority life is made of.

I guess.
I’m not going to candy-coat it: I kind of hate this time of year, and since we’re supposed to be getting in the spirit of the Christmas, I guess you could call me the Grinch of Holiday Formals. Ugh. Read More »

If there’s one thing a sorority woman knows (besides the names of all her founding sisters/the words to every rush song/the rules to scoring the best room in the house) it’s a theme party. I don’t know if it’s in the official rules of Greek Life but sororities/fraternities and theme parties go together like cheating spouses and Hollywood. Only there’s way less drama. And magazine covers. And Barbara Walters interviews.

That being said, this week we asked our panel of sorority women to weigh in on the infamous theme party and share the best and worst they’ve ever been to.

Looking to throw a great party of your own? You might want to avoid a graffiti bash. Read More »

It took until the middle of my junior year of college, but I finally went to my first frat party. Well, a fraternity’s semi-formal, anyway.

It’s not that I haven’t been invited to these parties before. I nearly went to one during the first few weeks of freshman year, but decided last minute not to go when I realized that my denim mini skirt was about three inches longer than anything the other girls were wearing, and that, considering drinking really wasn’t my thing, I probably wouldn’t be comfortable.

Yeah, I know. I’m from a city that has more bars than traffic lights and go to a school that was ranked number one on Playboy’s list of top party schools, yet I don’t drink. Or party – in the traditional sense, anyway.

I’m not opposed to drinking,  I just never really saw the point and never liked the taste. Apparently, that’s not the point either, but I digress. I’ve been around friends drinking and had just as much fun without the liquor as they seem to be having with it. Hell, sometimes I even end up acting a bit crazier than they do. Like last year’s end-of-the-semester/good-bye party for a friend of mine who was studying abroad in the spring, where I had cranberry juice instead of sharing the wine and vodka. By the end of the night, I’d joined in the crazy dancing, given my friend (who’s gay) a lap dance, and was cuddling with said friend on his roommate’s bed. I also go out dancing most weekends and after about three hours of shaking my bon bon, the only drink I want is a tall glass of water.

But, like I said, I’m not opposed to it; I’ve tried it a few times, usually with the same results. It often just tastes like really bad medicine to me and I can’t see why I should choose that over my favorite fruit juice or water. I can have just as much fun as anyone else without the booze, and, as I like to remind them all later on, I remember everything the next day. Read More »

You waited in the line outside the party hoping the 3 frat guys with low self-esteem and big muscles manning the door would notice your short skirt/cleavage combo and let you inside. Once you got the point and nod from d-bag #1, you breeze past the fortress gate (a card table littered with empty beer cans) and dance your way (litarally) into the overcrowded party.

A wave of humid, stale air hits you the minute you step inside. You feel your hair instantly frizzing up. But the room is dark and every girl in there is suffering from the frizzies, so you pull it back, grab a few cans of (crappy) beer from yet another muscley frat boy and get your party on.

You’re dancing, sweating, having a good time when it hits you: you have to pee. And not just a little bit. A lot a bit.
As in, one more bump and grind and it will be dripping down your leg. You grab your friend, pull her close and scream into her ear, “BATHROOM!??” The music is so loud, though, she can’t hear you.

“WHAT?!” She mouths as she gets low, low, low, with a guy with giant pit stains. You try screaming again, but it’s no use. So you break out the gestures, pointing to your bladder then pointing in the direction of the stairs. She finally gets it, leaves her perspiring prince behind and joins you in the hunt for a clean-ish bathroom.

You climb the stairs, passing couples making out along the way. As you near the top you see a long string of girls lining the hallway. Obviously, this is the line for the bathroom. And obviously, you have no choice but to wait in it (because, unlike those boys, you can’t just head outside and empty your bladder into a bush). Read More »