When I was a sophomore I lived in a quad in my sorority house. That meant 4 girls, 45 pairs of jeans and over 100 pairs of shoes stuffed into a very tiny space. With bunk beds. The close quarters were an issue when any sort of studying had to get done (“Can’t you wait until after 90210 is over to start that paper?!”) or heavy drinking was going down (“Dude, there is not enough room in here for you to do the worm…”) but we made it work most of the time.

And then we had a date party.

For those of you who don’t know, a sorority date party consists of asking guys to join you at a bar where everyone gets very, very drunk. Kind of like any other night of the week but with dresses and a photographer.

Anyways, needless to say, my roommates and I got quite intoxicated. Upon returning to the sorority house, everyone proceeded to leave their men outside and completely pass out fully clothed. I was pretty much dead to the world when I suddenly woke up out of my sleep; something smelled really bad. It took me awhile to figure out where I was, why I was still wearing heels, and why there was a slice of pizza in my hand, but when I finally came to I realized that my roommate (whose bottom bunk was a mere 4 inches away from mine) was also sniffing the air with a not-so-happy look on her face.

“Dude, what is that smell?” she asked me, sniffing the air like a puppy in heat. I began looking around the room, trying to figure out what was going on. Considering the small size of my living quarters, it took only a second to find the culprit: at 5:30 in the morning, wearing a beautiful black BCBG dress, my roommate was squatting over the bottom drawer (MY DRAWER!) of the dresser…having a bowel movement.

“SUSIE*!!” I screamed. She looked up at me. “What the hell are you doing in my underwear drawer!?”

“What?” She responded, confused. “Why are you in the bathroom stall with me?”

“You are not in the bathroom, you moron, you are in our bedroom…taking a crap in my underwear drawer!” I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or throw up all over myself. A moment later, I was ready to do all three.

Susie finally looked around and realized what she was doing.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I’ll fix it.” Susie stood up, pulled up her underwear, fixed her hair in the mirror and started to clean up her mess. It was a noble thing to do (and that girl better clean up that sh*t), but Susie was still quite drunk and a little wobbly on her feet. She bent down, gathered whatever was in the drawer and walked towards the communal bathroom in the hall…..leaving a trail of poo poo along the wall as she went. It was like Hansel and Gretel’s trail. Only grosser.

I couldn’t help but scream. And kick. And cry. And throw up a little in my mouth.

Soon the entire sorority was awake and screaming along with me. Eventually our house mother showed up, shooed us all out to a neighboring house to get some sleep and closed down our house for some major Clorox action. Upon returning, my room became a lovely, spacious triple and Susie got a single.

Was it fair that she got a single to herself? No, but no one wanted to live with the pooper.

Sorority house. Not whore house.

As college students, we are constantly inundated with new knowledge. It can be useful, thought-provoking, or crammed into our head on a Starbucks-fueled binge several hours before an exam. However, very rarely do we question the validity of all this new knowledge (unless you take philosophy classes, then you’ll question away).

That’s where College Candy comes in. We’re not going to debate whether or not the Theory of Relativity actually exists (a disappointment, I know, but I’m a communications major and stopped taking science classes after Baby Bio fresh year). However, we are here to thoroughly investigate the most widespread college knowledge (no, not rhyming)—the myth.

Recently, a good friend of mine came to visit me at escuela. When she got here, we screamed and squealed and moved all of her bags upstairs into my room. We chatted and caught up for a while, before I offered to give her a tour of my place.

I adore giving house tours, because the place where I live is so much more than my home—it’s my sorority house. I love showing friends and family all the beautiful details of our old Southern mansion, pointing out hidden symbols and telling the histories behind everything that decorates the house.  My guests are usually very interested and complimentary, so I was kind of bummed when I realized my bestie was being super quiet (and not in the “I’m-so-jealous-you-don’t-have-to-cook-or-clean” kind of way).

When I asked her what was up, she sighed and told me that she’d always wanted to live in a sorority house, but unfortunately the city where her campus was located strictly forbade her chapter from having one. “Why the anti-Panhellenic attitude?” I asked. To which she replied, as thousands of collegiates before her have, “Well, under city law, any more than 5 women living under the same house is considered a brothel.”

Whaaaat?! Brothel? Huh?!

Seriously, all those movies and books have it wrong. No, Sorority Row, we do not throw giant foam parties in our formal sitting room (my House Mom would spontaneously combust). Sorry, Alexandra Robbins, we are not having “naked parties,” and not all of sorority housing is glamorous (I’m a 21 year old woman who sleeps in a bunk bed). Hell, we aren’t even allowed to have guys upstairs (ever)! How the hell could a sorority house, or for that matter, any female dwelling be considered a brothel based solely on the number of its occupants with vaginas? I decided to investigate.

Turns out, this rumor has been circulating for quite some time. Richard Roeper commented in the Chicago Sun Times that it was “the most widespread piece of university folklore making the rounds.” That was in 1994, and not much has changed.

According to Snopes, the myth probably originated due to confusion and misinterpretation of “Blue Laws” and zoning restrictions.  “Some municipalities do indeed have zoning laws prohibiting more than a specified number of non-family members (male or female) from living together, but not even in those cases would a household in violation of those codes be labeled a brothel.”

More importantly, any law that stated such doesn’t apply to fraternity, sorority, or any other form of intentionally communal living. So, good news for my friend (if she wants to contact her national headquarters and start some hardcore fundraising), sororities (and fraternities, and non-Greeks alike) can indeed all live happily together under one roof without the city labeling them as prostitutes.

Unless, of course, they are exchanging sex for money. That might be a problem.

As much as you’d like to deny it, it’s time to pack those bags and head back to school! Whether you’re shacking up on campus in the dorms, going solo in your own apartment, or looking forward to a packed year in the sorority house, those blank walls can look pretty unfriendly. Even if you’re not the homesick type, jazzing up your empty wall space can do wonders in making you feel more at home in your new school-year pad, and you’re likely to find that even the most cramped or most run-down of places are a whole lot more bearable with a little added personality.

Look back on fond memories of last summer while you have new fun times in the fall with a wall photo sleeve, or mark your limited territory over on your side of the tiny dorm room with an initial marquee light fixture. No matter what cool and trendy wall decor you throw up, it may never be a four-star resort, but hey — it’s home!

Check out the slideshow at Stylehive for some fun and quirky wall hang-ups!

[It's pretty obvious that the average CollegeCandy reader has some very strong opinions. Opinions that she likes to share with everyone on the site. We love a strong woman, so we thought we'd give her a real forum to discuss her thoughts, feelings, and perspectives. Every Friday I'll be featuring a hot topic (like dating a geek!) and leaving it up to you, the readers, to duke it out. So, read it and get your debate on in the comments section below!]

Having spent my college years at a *ahem* non-traditional school, sororities were never something I considered – we don’t even have a campus, let alone a Greek system. But nonetheless, I suppose I’ve always looked down a bit on sorority girls… at least until recently when one of my best friends told me she was going to rush this year. So now, in all fairness, it seems like I owe it to these Greek girls to re-examine my thoughts.

I can certainly see the appeal of a sorority - the belonging, the sisterhood, and it would definitely have been handy to have some older girls around as a kind of mentor for those times when I let myself get out of hand. You have a place to live (a place that’s probably nicer than the dorms); you have a choice of what kind of group you want to be with, so you probably have some things in common. By being thrown into a sort of automatic family, you up your chances of making friends, moreso than in most ordinary social situations, and you are more bonded with those friends because of all that you share.

Greek life is also known for creating strong leaders (look at how many politicians were involved in a frat or sorority) and can be a great networking opp since many former Greek-ers (like, maybe, your boss), will go the extra mile to help out someone from their old house.  You never have to spend those sad nights (or weeks) alone, camped out on your bed after a breakup with no one to talk to. Plus, sororities (from what I understand) tend to organize parties and events and things that would force you to get out and have fun, even if you were, say, a shy underclassmen.

The downsides, of course, are related to many of the same things. Sororities tend to be about the group, which can throw a lot of peer pressure into the mix and that can be hard to deal with unless you’re very assertive.  And that pressure seems particularly counter-intuitive since this is the time in our lives when we’re supposed to be finding ourselves. The group is very self-contained (ie. they protect their own, and if you threaten that, you have a problem) and can also be time consuming (especially if you get into a leadership position), which means you had better be really good at organization or your grades could suffer over something that probably won’t make much difference on your resume.

And all of those social engagements, well once you’re in, you’re expected to represent your house so you might not be able to just blow off some fundraiser you don’t care about, even if you really need to get that term paper done. And for that same reason, it’s probably going to be much harder to keep up friendships with people who aren’t in the sorority, since so much of your social life will revolve around the house.

The biggest downsides to sororities, of course, are the most obvious and talked about. We’ve all heard the stories of sororities who refuse to accept or kick out girls of certain body types or ethnic backgrounds, and I won’t even get into hazing since it’s technically banned on most campuses (but a cursory Internet search can give you more horror stories there than you ever wanted to know).  Oh, and by the way, there are usually dues. That’s right, at most sororities, you have to pay to stay, and if you’re strapped for cash already, that might be bigger commitment than you want to make.

So, what do you say ladies? Am I being unfair? Are the benefits of belonging to a sorority worth the risks? Would you go Greel, or do you still not get the girls of sorority row?

Ahh summer time. The heat is blistering, the Natty Lite is chilled and the pool beckons. For those of us not taking summer classes, these three months are a glorious break from homework, studying and fluorescent lighting. Yes, the whole summer yawns out blue skies and cut-offs until late August and it’s hard to imagine ever going back to school.

Except, I do imagine it. I catch myself worrying about non-existent assignments and responsibilities that won’t resume until September. But even more, I constantly find myself spacing out at work, reminiscing about all the good stuff that comes along with college. Mostly the whole not-bored-at-work-9-to-5 thing.

And I miss it!

Meal Plans: While I’m lucky enough not to be taking classes this summer, I do have to work — which means I’m stuck in a college town all summer long without the benefit of visiting home, and therefore the benefit of home cookin’. My freshman year, I ate dining hall food. My sophomore year, my sorority dues included a meal plan. This summer, with my sorority house closed and the dining halls freshmen-infested, I’m armed only with my apartment’s kitchen and whatever the hell I find when I Google “easy, cheap, healthy recipes” and pudding. Do I enjoy learning to cook? Absolutely. Would I prefer a cook to prepare my meals? Uh, hell yes. Plus, there’s no clean up if you’re not the one using all the dishes…

The Gym: As any lady knows, summer is either the best time to flaunt your hard earned bikini-bod, or to berate yourself for spending more of Spring watching The Office than a yoga instructor. So naturally, gym time is a necessary evil (unless you enjoy working out, which I sadly do not). Imagine my disappointment when I arrived at my campus gym early for kickboxing, only to have my student I.D. DENIED at the turnstile. It was almost as embarrassing as having a credit card declined, weirdly enough. Apparently, if you don’t take summer classes at FSU, you can’t use the gym (I guess the tuition I pay during fall and spring doesn’t cut it). Every day as I run outside (instead of on a treadmill with AC and Daisy of Love repeats) I count the days until I’ll be back at the student gym.

The Bar Scene: Never in my life did I think I’d find myself wishing for the bar to be more crowded. There are no lines for the bathroom, the bartenders are almost overly attentive, and I have enough room to extend my arms. All of these are seemingly good things, but when there are no people to watch, no strangers to mingle with, and no one standing between me and unlimited mojitos, things at the bar just don’t end well. When it takes me 20 minutes to fight my way through the crowd to the bar in Fall, I will look back at this time lovingly, but for now, the bar scene just seems kinda boring.

“Academic Expenses”: As I mentioned before, I’m a working woman. But when my parents offer to help out with any school related costs, I definitely don’t turn it down. The beauty of this is that there is always some way to explain a purchase as necessary to my academic career. “Supplies” at Walmart, “Business attire” for those in-class presentations, and my personal favorite “Whatever they sell at the bookstore” because Mom’s credit card is on file there. A random charge on her statement is easily explained during the semester, but trying to convince her that I need money for “road trip supplies” doesn’t go as smoothly.

Overall, I’m not complaining about a long, hot and relaxing summer—but there are definitely a few things I miss about Fall and Spring. What about you guys?

I have never thought of myself as a “sorority girl.” Like many people, when I thought of the term “sorority girl” I didn’t have a whole lot of positive connotations. I thought they were fake, perky, skanky, High School queen bees, who did a lot of partying and a lot of drugs.

Okay, so I guess I let Hollywood feed me that stereotype.

However, once I started freshman year I started meeting some great girls (who were none of those stereotypical adjectives) and who were also in sororities. The contrast baffled me, so I decided to investigate.

Sororities are pretty big on my campus and something like 35% of girls go Greek. That fact and all the nice girls I had met led me to sign myself up for the 2 week long process of rush. My floor friends all signed up too, but I was still pretty iffy about the idea. I told a few home friends and their reaction was…well less than enthusiastic. I got responses like; “Are you serious?” “Why would you do that to yourself?” and “You are not a sorority girl!” Even my mom, who went Greek in college, said that it might not be for me. These people were the people that knew me best, so I thought that they were probably right, and I prepared to pull my name off the list of about 700 girls.

I deliberated for a while and ended up setting everyone else’s input aside (where it should have been in the first place). While my friends meant well, what did any of them know about being Greek? It is simply impossible to judge such a huge population of college girls based on Legally Blonde. So I kept my name on the rush list, for the primary reason that if I backed out before I had given it a fair shot, I knew I would feel regret and always wonder “what if.”

So I rushed, which at my school is literally rushing around. You go from house to house, sometimes in heels, meeting tons of girls. There are four rounds, “Go Greek”, “House Tours”, “Philanthropy”, and “Preference Rounds”. At the end of each round you rank the houses and they, in turn, rank all the “rushees.” Not gonna lie: it was a little nerve-wracking and exhausting. But as I walked around the houses and met the girls it became easy to sense where I belonged and where I didn’t quite feel comfortable.

In the end I picked a house and they picked me and I got to meet so many people that I would not have otherwise. People that are now my best friends and sisters. At such a big school, going Greek provided me with a smaller circle, girls to have fun with and girls to study with, girls to take care of me when I needed help and a place to feel comfortable.

Rush, of course, doesn’t turn out the same for everyone. Some people find houses, others don’t. I have a friend who regretted not rushing freshman year and rushed as a sophomore. In the end she dropped out of rush, but at least she could now say with certainty that it wasn’t for her. Even if you rush and end up not liking it you will meet so many more people. You could meet girls you like and choose to be friends with, but not sisters with, after the process. Or you could meet girls that dislike rush just as much as you end up bonding over disdain for the process. Or you could rush and find a sorority that you want to be a part of. You could find yourself a place where you are comfortable and happy, and what could be better than that?

Either way, I encourage rushing because it’s something you don’t get to re-do later in life. Give it a shot and you’ll be regret-free either way.

When I am not out slutting it up, I tend to spend my evenings alone watching TV, reading books and – to relieve a little stress – playing out some super sexy scenarios in my head. I crawl into bed, get under the covers with my favorite toy and imagine myself in the place I’d rather be; the man I’d rather be with.

I find sexual fantasies to be both extremely liberating and enlightening. By opening myself up to any possibility – mostly things I would never do in the flesh – I learn a lot about myself and what turns me on. I can act out entire scenarios in my head and prepare myself for new situations that may arise sometime down the road. And, of course, I get to do something a little naughty with people I would never have the opportunity to be with in real life.

Like the dad of the kids I babysit for. I know that fantasy is as cliché as they come, but there is something so sexy and forbidden about that bond between babysitter and dad. He is sexy, smart, funny, and adorable with his kids. I know it’s so wrong, but I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have him drive me home, kiss me, then take advantage of me in the back of his Mercedes.

Or my Psych professor. Real original, I know, but as over-done as this scenario is, it doesn’t make wild sex during office hours any less tempting. Or sneaking him into my sorority house for an afternoon siesta any less dangerous and totally hot. The fact that it is so off limits only makes me want it more.

My fantasies are always about people I cannot be with, in places I cannot go, but knowing how much I enjoy them in my head, I have really started to branch out and try new things. No, I am not going to try and seduce some married men (as awesome as it is in my head), but allowing myself to open up and imagine new things has made me realize just what turns me on. And it makes the real thing sooooo much better.

I think lots of women are embarrassed by their deep, dark fantasies and therefore do not discuss – or even entertain – them. If you fall into that category, you are doing yourself a great disservice. Take some time to really think about it; you will definitely enjoy the results.

Start now….and share your fantasies with us.

When I was pledging my sorority Freshman year – for 10 freaking weeks – all I could think about was the day it would all end; I would be a full-fledged member of the house and I wouldn’t have to get the older girls ice cream at 3am, carry cigarettes around for them just in case they might need one while they were out on campus, or have to sleep on the floor of a very cold sorority house every weekend. I was absolutely miserable, but I always knew that there was a bright light at the end of the tunnel (read: date parties and a private cook!) and it would all be worth it in the end.

It may seem crazy to put yourself through hell to join a group, but there is a purpose to pledge term: group bonding and appreciation as you work towards something. I worked hard with my pledge class to succeed at many (mostly ridiculous) tasks, which eventually ended with a very large and exciting payoff.

Payoff being the operative word. Because why else would someone slave away like a dog for weeks without any sort of payoff – unless, of course, they were into all that S&M shit?

Maybe we should ask the people over at Princeton. One of the residential colleges over there recently started a new “program” (service, really) for seniors working on their theses. Obviously, writing a thesis is super duper hard (which is why I decided not to do one, naturally) so someone thought it would be a great idea to offer those thesis-ites a little help.

In the way of freshman.

Volunteers.

Doing random crap for them.

“Each participating Whitman senior will be assigned 2 underclassmen who will be “on call” during the final thesis push. If you are working away in your room and feel like you need a midnight snack all you have to do is contact your thesis buddy and he/she will bring you a hot dog and a red bull or whatever else you need to burn the midnight oil.”

Obviously, the idea isn’t to take advantage of your buddy, but to have him or her help out in a pinch. Other examples of acceptable duties include: taking care of a load of laundry, picking up/dropping off some library books, or proofreading a chapter for typos.

I know I am not alone in wondering why anyone would want to do this. What does the freshman get out of this? Gratification? Um, can I take gratification to the mall and put it towards a new pair of jeans? I don’t think so. And, no, I am not a total bitch who doesn’t find it nice to help someone in need, but shouldn’t the people in charge offer their freshman to more noble causes like feeding the hungry or ending the world AIDs epidemic? Do these privileged Princeton seniors really need someone to bring ‘em a Red Bull?

I don’t know about you, but I will not do anyone’s laundry if there is nothing in it for me. The only reason I do my own is because I have learned it is not appropriate to go anywhere without undies on. We will just have to wait and see how this university-sponsored hazing program turns out.

Good luck, freshmen; welcome to hell.