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). Read More »

   OR  

[I like to think of myself as a pretty easy going gal, and try not to sweat the small stuff. But sometimes (ok, maybe slightly more often) the general cluelessness, carelessness and overall stupidity of some things and or/people really gets to me. I find that venting is the most efficient way to rid myself of the stress that idiots, wrong meal orders, lack of cell phone etiquette and cheese flavored products (that don’t even contain any freaking cheese!) induce.

So, in an attempt to avoid an ulcer or an unfortunate road rage incident, I vent to you, dear reader. Please feel free to join in and comment about anything–really, anything–that pissed. you. off. this week. Let it all hang out. I feel you.]

Ex-boyfriend calls out of the blue (at 3 am).

Although it would be mighty enjoyable to deny your calls during daylight hours, I just couldn’t muster up the proper amount of excitement about ignoring you as I was attempting to sleep. At 3 am. As most (okay some) college students are doing on Wednesday nights. It was, in fact, incredibly irritating to listen to my phone vibrating violently until it buzzzzed right off my nightstand, unplugged itself from my charger and died early the next morning, preventing me from whiling away my classes with interesting texts and Facebook stalking.

It seems that you still find ways to annoy the sh*t out of me, even technologically! Your call was especially appreciated by my new (and way better) boyfriend, who happened to be sleeping next to me and was quite frankly a little pissed off for the entire next day due to sleep deprivation and extreme annoyance with you. The only consolation I got from your obnoxious ass was the touching voicemail you left me (I believe you were crying) slurring on and on about how great I am. Well, I think it’s a little too late for that, mister, and so does everyone else who listened to it (aka 48 of my sorority sisters with a tendency to gossip)–although they did get a great laugh out of listening to your blubbering for 3 minutes. Read More »

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. Read More »