I like Diet Coke. And by like I mean love. And by love I mean obsessed. And by obsessed I mean addicted. And by addicted I mean I am a Diet Coke Fanatic.
On a usual day, I drink anywhere between 70 to 132 oz. Ask any previous roommate and they can vouch that I always have a 24-pack stashed in my closet. Ask any current classmate and they could probably count on one hand the number of times I HAVEN’T had a Diet Coke in class.
I don’t discriminate- I drink from a can or a cup. With ice or without. Addition of vanilla or keep it in its original form. My dealers include Sonic, Quench Buds, the Barn, or a gas station. It doesn’t matter.
My passion for Diet Coke even leads me to steer clear of Pepsi Restaurants. When I am with an indecisive group who is throwing out food options, I always veto those who refuse to serve Diet Coke. This gets a laugh from everyone, but seriously. I really don’t like not having the DC option!
Let me tell you how I got to this point... Way back in the day, at the young age of 9, I was a Dr. Pepper fan. (Gasp of horror and disgust.) My family and relatives took a week long trip to the lake. Our cabin was out in the middle of nowhere, so we went grocery shopping once in the middle of the week. With five kids hooked on Dr. Pepper, the ice chest was out of DP by Saturday afternoon. Our parents said we would have to deal and offered us water and Sunny D. Unlike my cousins and sister, I couldn’t make the switch! I craved the bubbly, brown, syrupy goodness... And my closest option was.... Diet Coke. It took a couple cans, but by the end of the weekend, my fate was set in stone.
So, I know people are concerned by my habits. It is rare that I drink water. I know this isn’t a good life choice. My nutritionist rips me a new one every time I go in for an appointment and tell her my average water intake is 12 oz. a day (which is an extreme stretch of the imagination). But I can’t seem to change. I have tried limiting my intake and going cold turkey. However, I always end up with a Diet Coke back in my hand. Even with the notion of losing more weight and avoiding possible cancer, there is just something about Diet Coke that keeps me coming back for more.
I had heard from various sisters that Camelbak water bottles increased how much water you drink. It is a "fun" way to drink water. Way better than the old time way of drinking straight from the bottle or through a straw. At this point, I am desperate to bring up my water levels (not necessarily eliminate Diet Coke, though). Both for my health and for my bank account. Diet Coke is a huge expense. So, intrigued by the possibility, I checked out amazon.com and found some great deals. Not to mention the dang bottles come in lime green!! I eagerly placed my order and received the glorious package last week.
Now, they should really send some instructions with these contraptions! Thank goodness I had some of my hip friends who knew how it worked. Their suggested technique: “Bite and suck.” with an encouraging comment of, “You’ll get the hang of it.”
While drinking my Camelbak, I feel my inner-green-hippie-self bubbling up. It feels good to hydrate in style (or at all for that matter), but I can’t really tell if the Lime Green Bottle Water trumps my desire for Styrofoam Cup with a Straw Diet Coke.
Only time will tell...
My bet is that the Camelbak’s attempt on killing the Diet Coke will ultimately fail, like every other technique that came before it.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Bar Bachelor
Last night, I was laying on the couch watching the Dark Knight. My fiancé had left me curled up in my initiation blanket, while he went to Dirty’s. (It was its last night as a bar on the strip.) I knew homework was calling my name. Not to mention I was suppose to start my New Years Resolution the following morning: go to church. The bars and drinking just weren’t in my cards...
Or so I thought.
About 10:15 p.m., 15 minutes after my fiancé had left, my pledge class sister’s face popped up on my iPhone. I didn’t answer. For the record... I never answer the first time someone calls. I have a phone-call-answering-phobia. I much rather a text or email, and if it has to be a phone call... I insist that the person leave me a message with their intent before I actually return a call. Well, my PC sister leaves a voice mail. She claims I must join her and a few others at the cave and then to the bars. Oh, and it is very rude that I never answered her phone calls... Zing. A pang of guilt enters my soul. I do feel bad that I don’t answer phone calls... but not enough to change my ways apparently.
So, I let 10 minutes pass. I know I don’t want to go out, so I devise a plan. I will explain that I just got out of the shower and I need to do homework and sleep... Church in the morning! With my plan by my side, I return the phone call.
Screams were what answered on the opposite end. Pleads for me to come over and hang out. I tried my trusty plan, but they were having none of it. Turns out PC sister was going to the 11 o’clock service, too! Crap. The lines were as follows: “This is your senior year. You have to live it up. Last semester. Don’t be a loser. If you come, I will go to an earlier service.” Even as I ended the phone call, I was still on the fence on whether I should leave the comfy couch and Heath Ledger.
As I lay there with my Brussels Griffon, Malibu, I mulled over the words and arguments posed. I mean this was my last semester with all my friends here... And I am really not one to be spontaneous... But what would one night hurt? I won’t get drunk, and I can still make it to church tomorrow. No problem.
As I jumped off the couch and tried to salvage my hair... I prayed that the night would be worth it.
My surprise entrance into the Cave was a pretty good kick off. There had been plenty of drinking happening, and they had even found an entertaining game to boot! Family Feud drinking game. Interesting and educating; however, you have to be sober enough to correctly spell responses... This posed a slight problem, but I still give the game 4 out of 5 stars and am currently downloading it for use at the Colvin.
Around 11:45 p.m. we finally got enough energy up to make it over to the bars. Seeing that the time was rather late, we headed straight for Stillwater’s pride: Outlaws. The place was hopping like usual, and good times were definitely being had by all in attendance.
Confession 1: My favorite part of going out to bars is People Watching. This might also be the downfall of my bar experience because I get so distracted by judging and making up stories for the people I see... that I forget to talk and socialize with the people I came with. This is detrimental to having a good time.
Outlaws was made for people watching. The second story is like a personal spying tower. Everyone below is susceptible. They don’t suspect a stalker upstairs watching their every strange, slutty, or creepy move. I realize as I write this that I sound like a freak, but you can’t tell me you’ve never done this at YOUR bar of choice. Honestly, people watching can happen anywhere from on campus to Wal Mart. All you need is a pool of diverse people in any given space. Instant people watching magic.
Now after our stint at Outlaws, we moved to Dirty’s. I, personally, have only been there once before. It was just like the name of the bar inferred-- the place was freaking dirty, thus, I never went back. However, my friends felt need to pay homage to it one last time.
After we finally settled in a booth, I had serious deja vu (As opposed to the minor kind.) of a little TV show known as The Bachelor.
Confession 2: I have been watching this season’s Bachelor. This is my first time to actually watch it, and I must say I am addicted. It is CRAZY! Grown women willingly sign up with 29 other women to pursue some guy who is lower than online dating. He went on a TV show to find “true love”... And the women fell for that act along with a couple million Americans... Myself included.
So the thing I have learned the past few weeks is that face time with Braddles (my nickname for Brad) equals a rose. I think it is horrifyingly, shameless that they fight and vie for Brad’s attention, yet it is necessary if they want to make it to the next week. This ugly truth played out in a real life scenario though... Last night at Dirty’s.
Back to the booth we are sitting at... One of the posse spots a guy she knew from her previous nights at the bars (he was a bartender). He is talking to a couple girls. She decides to break up the little chat and I quote, “Make these girls jealous.” She poofed her hair for extra emphasis, and off she went.
BAM! The Bachelor. Circa Michelle.
Only difference was that she didn’t want always and forever with Mr. Bartender. She just wanted the satisfaction of being hotter than the original girls. Valid point, I suppose. I mean we all want a little reassurance around 1:20 a.m. in a bar named Dirty’s, right? Well, her plan back fired. While she did succeed in making the girls jealous (they threw us all nasty looks afterwards), she ended up being stuck with the guy. He awkwardly hung around until she had to blatantly spell out that it wasn’t working and he could leave. Harsh. But had it been an episode, I’d been hooked and waiting for next week’s show.
Unfortunately for Dirty’s, there would be no next week. As the lights were flipped on at 2 a.m., chants began from the crowd. “One more year... One more year!” and a rousing round of “OOOOO... SSSSS.. UUUU. Cowboys!” rang out.
I left the bars with a sense of pride for the night. My hair was smokey, my eyes as red as the watermelon shots from Outlaws, and I had enough stories for the blog that I was already mentally writing in my mind.
I think it is pretty safe to say I am still 0 for 4 on my New Years Resolution. We didn’t make it to church this morning. I am not going to say last night was epic, but I will admit I didn’t regret getting off the couch and going out.
Moral of the Story: Only so many days left in my senior year... And you just never know what will happen on the Strip.
Stay spontaneous Stillwater.
Or so I thought.
About 10:15 p.m., 15 minutes after my fiancé had left, my pledge class sister’s face popped up on my iPhone. I didn’t answer. For the record... I never answer the first time someone calls. I have a phone-call-answering-phobia. I much rather a text or email, and if it has to be a phone call... I insist that the person leave me a message with their intent before I actually return a call. Well, my PC sister leaves a voice mail. She claims I must join her and a few others at the cave and then to the bars. Oh, and it is very rude that I never answered her phone calls... Zing. A pang of guilt enters my soul. I do feel bad that I don’t answer phone calls... but not enough to change my ways apparently.
So, I let 10 minutes pass. I know I don’t want to go out, so I devise a plan. I will explain that I just got out of the shower and I need to do homework and sleep... Church in the morning! With my plan by my side, I return the phone call.
Screams were what answered on the opposite end. Pleads for me to come over and hang out. I tried my trusty plan, but they were having none of it. Turns out PC sister was going to the 11 o’clock service, too! Crap. The lines were as follows: “This is your senior year. You have to live it up. Last semester. Don’t be a loser. If you come, I will go to an earlier service.” Even as I ended the phone call, I was still on the fence on whether I should leave the comfy couch and Heath Ledger.
As I lay there with my Brussels Griffon, Malibu, I mulled over the words and arguments posed. I mean this was my last semester with all my friends here... And I am really not one to be spontaneous... But what would one night hurt? I won’t get drunk, and I can still make it to church tomorrow. No problem.
As I jumped off the couch and tried to salvage my hair... I prayed that the night would be worth it.
My surprise entrance into the Cave was a pretty good kick off. There had been plenty of drinking happening, and they had even found an entertaining game to boot! Family Feud drinking game. Interesting and educating; however, you have to be sober enough to correctly spell responses... This posed a slight problem, but I still give the game 4 out of 5 stars and am currently downloading it for use at the Colvin.
Around 11:45 p.m. we finally got enough energy up to make it over to the bars. Seeing that the time was rather late, we headed straight for Stillwater’s pride: Outlaws. The place was hopping like usual, and good times were definitely being had by all in attendance.
Confession 1: My favorite part of going out to bars is People Watching. This might also be the downfall of my bar experience because I get so distracted by judging and making up stories for the people I see... that I forget to talk and socialize with the people I came with. This is detrimental to having a good time.
Outlaws was made for people watching. The second story is like a personal spying tower. Everyone below is susceptible. They don’t suspect a stalker upstairs watching their every strange, slutty, or creepy move. I realize as I write this that I sound like a freak, but you can’t tell me you’ve never done this at YOUR bar of choice. Honestly, people watching can happen anywhere from on campus to Wal Mart. All you need is a pool of diverse people in any given space. Instant people watching magic.
Now after our stint at Outlaws, we moved to Dirty’s. I, personally, have only been there once before. It was just like the name of the bar inferred-- the place was freaking dirty, thus, I never went back. However, my friends felt need to pay homage to it one last time.
After we finally settled in a booth, I had serious deja vu (As opposed to the minor kind.) of a little TV show known as The Bachelor.
Confession 2: I have been watching this season’s Bachelor. This is my first time to actually watch it, and I must say I am addicted. It is CRAZY! Grown women willingly sign up with 29 other women to pursue some guy who is lower than online dating. He went on a TV show to find “true love”... And the women fell for that act along with a couple million Americans... Myself included.
So the thing I have learned the past few weeks is that face time with Braddles (my nickname for Brad) equals a rose. I think it is horrifyingly, shameless that they fight and vie for Brad’s attention, yet it is necessary if they want to make it to the next week. This ugly truth played out in a real life scenario though... Last night at Dirty’s.
Back to the booth we are sitting at... One of the posse spots a guy she knew from her previous nights at the bars (he was a bartender). He is talking to a couple girls. She decides to break up the little chat and I quote, “Make these girls jealous.” She poofed her hair for extra emphasis, and off she went.
BAM! The Bachelor. Circa Michelle.
Only difference was that she didn’t want always and forever with Mr. Bartender. She just wanted the satisfaction of being hotter than the original girls. Valid point, I suppose. I mean we all want a little reassurance around 1:20 a.m. in a bar named Dirty’s, right? Well, her plan back fired. While she did succeed in making the girls jealous (they threw us all nasty looks afterwards), she ended up being stuck with the guy. He awkwardly hung around until she had to blatantly spell out that it wasn’t working and he could leave. Harsh. But had it been an episode, I’d been hooked and waiting for next week’s show.
Unfortunately for Dirty’s, there would be no next week. As the lights were flipped on at 2 a.m., chants began from the crowd. “One more year... One more year!” and a rousing round of “OOOOO... SSSSS.. UUUU. Cowboys!” rang out.
I left the bars with a sense of pride for the night. My hair was smokey, my eyes as red as the watermelon shots from Outlaws, and I had enough stories for the blog that I was already mentally writing in my mind.
I think it is pretty safe to say I am still 0 for 4 on my New Years Resolution. We didn’t make it to church this morning. I am not going to say last night was epic, but I will admit I didn’t regret getting off the couch and going out.
Moral of the Story: Only so many days left in my senior year... And you just never know what will happen on the Strip.
Stay spontaneous Stillwater.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Date Rejection
"Hey." -kid in my class (red head.. We have been 'flirting' for 2 weeks)
"Hi, how are you today?" -me
"Good. I didn't finish my homework though." -not so ambitious crush
"Oh, that is no good." -me
"How are you?" -ginger crush
"Good. Hey. I was wondering if you like to go to a date party with me? It isn't anything big, just a date party with my sorority." -me
"Uh, yeah. I guess. When?" -not so enthused crush
"Next Thursday. It's a senior citizen theme." -me
"Okay." -now awkward future date
Freshman year. Math Functions class. Tuesday at 2:00 pm in HES Building.
I, Cameron Jones, asked out my first date to a sorority date party. He was a red headed sophomore who had engaged in several conversations with me before class. I thought we had chemistry. I mean he always asked me how I was... Totally sweet. He was a rather unambitious student, but was an avid Christian. I decided the latter trumped all things in this worldly life... I also decided that he would be the perfect guy for my upcoming date party.
Previous date parties I had done the whole, "Girls Night" shindig. I thought this time would be better if I actually brought a guy... But my guy pool was pretty slim. I figured that my ginger math buddy who loved Jesus would not reject my proposal, so he became the new candidate.
It took me about a week to grow enough balls to ask him. About halfway through my invitation, I realized that what I thought had been flirting was actually was a guy just being nice to the girl who saved him a seat in math class. Too late. The invitation was given and I didn't want to be an indian giver... AND if he really didn't want to go, he would of said no.... Right?
Well, after he said yes, it was all I needed to completely get every hope in my body up. This boy was sexy AND a complete sweetheart. My sisters were going to be so jealous!
Needless to say, I was beyond excited about the event. I had gone out and bought an outfit. I had set up dinner plans. I was absolutely estatic about my first college date.
48 hours before the big night, Mr. Red Head sent me a text.
"Hey. I have to go to a concert with my church. It just came up. Sorry."
Talk about a shattered heart.... Three Dog's NIght, "One is the loneliest number," popped into my head. I was going to be solo. Worse than a "girls night." WHY HAD I BEEN SO NAIVE? And what they heck Jesus lover?? I am pretty sure the Lord wouldn't have bailed... Even if it was a church concert... I'm just saying.
My moment of courageous bliss quickly turned into one of the most embarrassing moments of my freshmen year. Not because I was dumped by my date, but because I had believed I could just ask some random, GDI guy in my math class to come to a sorority date party... What the french toast was I thinking?
Oh yeah, I wasn't thinking. I was acting on freshman impulse.
From that date party and forward, I stuck to greek males that I knew. I also tried to stick in the friendship zone, because nothing is worse then trying to get to know a person you like on a bus of Lottey's on the way there, in the middle of a raunchy dance floor during, and avoiding the pool of puke when you get back to the house after. Don't hedge your bets on a "forever and always" romance after that!
Luckily, I now have a fiance who has to say yes, and if he bails... Well, there is always proposal #3.
"Hi, how are you today?" -me
"Good. I didn't finish my homework though." -not so ambitious crush
"Oh, that is no good." -me
"How are you?" -ginger crush
"Good. Hey. I was wondering if you like to go to a date party with me? It isn't anything big, just a date party with my sorority." -me
"Uh, yeah. I guess. When?" -not so enthused crush
"Next Thursday. It's a senior citizen theme." -me
"Okay." -now awkward future date
Freshman year. Math Functions class. Tuesday at 2:00 pm in HES Building.
I, Cameron Jones, asked out my first date to a sorority date party. He was a red headed sophomore who had engaged in several conversations with me before class. I thought we had chemistry. I mean he always asked me how I was... Totally sweet. He was a rather unambitious student, but was an avid Christian. I decided the latter trumped all things in this worldly life... I also decided that he would be the perfect guy for my upcoming date party.
Previous date parties I had done the whole, "Girls Night" shindig. I thought this time would be better if I actually brought a guy... But my guy pool was pretty slim. I figured that my ginger math buddy who loved Jesus would not reject my proposal, so he became the new candidate.
It took me about a week to grow enough balls to ask him. About halfway through my invitation, I realized that what I thought had been flirting was actually was a guy just being nice to the girl who saved him a seat in math class. Too late. The invitation was given and I didn't want to be an indian giver... AND if he really didn't want to go, he would of said no.... Right?
Well, after he said yes, it was all I needed to completely get every hope in my body up. This boy was sexy AND a complete sweetheart. My sisters were going to be so jealous!
Needless to say, I was beyond excited about the event. I had gone out and bought an outfit. I had set up dinner plans. I was absolutely estatic about my first college date.
48 hours before the big night, Mr. Red Head sent me a text.
"Hey. I have to go to a concert with my church. It just came up. Sorry."
Talk about a shattered heart.... Three Dog's NIght, "One is the loneliest number," popped into my head. I was going to be solo. Worse than a "girls night." WHY HAD I BEEN SO NAIVE? And what they heck Jesus lover?? I am pretty sure the Lord wouldn't have bailed... Even if it was a church concert... I'm just saying.
My moment of courageous bliss quickly turned into one of the most embarrassing moments of my freshmen year. Not because I was dumped by my date, but because I had believed I could just ask some random, GDI guy in my math class to come to a sorority date party... What the french toast was I thinking?
Oh yeah, I wasn't thinking. I was acting on freshman impulse.
From that date party and forward, I stuck to greek males that I knew. I also tried to stick in the friendship zone, because nothing is worse then trying to get to know a person you like on a bus of Lottey's on the way there, in the middle of a raunchy dance floor during, and avoiding the pool of puke when you get back to the house after. Don't hedge your bets on a "forever and always" romance after that!
Luckily, I now have a fiance who has to say yes, and if he bails... Well, there is always proposal #3.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Intercom of Death
In our sorority house, there use to be a neat apparatus that was used and abused more than once. It looked and acted like a phone, but there wasn't just one person on the other end, there was a whole house of sorority girls. You can only imagine the historical things that were said using the magical phone. Or, more accurately, the mundane and ridiculous things that were shouted into it.
Some of the things we used the intercom for:
- I'm ready to go to the frozen yogurt place, but my BFF, big, or twin isn't down here yet... Oh yeah. And I'm impatient or too lazy to run up the stairs and check on them. OR I forgot I owned a phone of my own and could just text them.
- Come down and clean up the dining room! (insert a comment about pledges or freshmen)
- MAN ON TWO!!! (when a guy is on the second or third floor)
- It's my 21st birthday and me and my BFFs made it home safely from the bars.... Wahooooooo!!
- It's just another typical night at the bars, but I really think you need to hear this new song on my iPhone before I go storming through the house!!
- Someone is here to serenade us!! Come downstairs!!!
- Begging for older members to mock rush with the newbies.... Bump Points!
There were other reasons we used it, but none was as memorable and significant as the call out on the afternoon of January 22, 2008. This was my first month to be living in the sorority house and I had already been doubting the reality of it all. I mean who wants to willingly live with 74 women... for anywhere from 2-6 semesters? Can you say drama?!
So here I am in Grand Central with my roommates and good friend just minding my own business. I am surfing the internet after a morning of classes, and chatting away. All of a sudden a muffled shout of the intercom comes from the hallway.
“H...Le....Ha....Ed!! Ahhhh.......!”
My curious roommate goes to the door and opens it. Once again it belts across the crackly intercom system...
“HEATH LEDGER HAS DIED!!!! OHHH MY GOOOSSHHHHH! A DRUG OVERDOSE!”
This was back before the days of Twitter, so I couldn’t just pop in and check out the breaking news from both legit sources and from my very knowledgable pop culture friends. Instead, I headed over to MSN.
Nothing popped up instantly, and I was convinced someone had just came home from the Penny after an early Happy Hour. I mean Heath wasn’t into drugs. I’d know. He is my favorite actor and future husband. He has a daughter. Famous movie people with daughters don’t overdose on drugs... Well. Nevermind. Heath doesn’t overdose.
I begin to panic after the 15th refresh on MSN. Heath’s handsome face pops up... That dreamy smile and piercing eyes. He never looked more alive and happy-- Not exactly the poster child for drugs! But alas, the title spoke no lies and confirmed the grim news spread on the intercom 3 minutes earlier.
My future husband had died. Of a supposed drug overdose. (Damn.)
I am almost 99.9% positive I cried a few tears. I couldn’t believe it. But this was just the beginning. All of a sudden a couple girls came into the room.
“Did you hear the news?” .... “I can’t believe it.” .... “Maybe he is punking the world?” .... “He was so sexy.” ..... “Remember his accent in 10 Things I Hate About You?” ..... “Or him in A Knight’s Tale? Totally hot.” .... “Brokeback...? Well at least he can end on the Batman movie...”
It was surreal. This was the most talking I had done with these women since I moved in... And all from a devastating announcement through the intercom.
This was real life in the sorority. Totally normal, and still remains one of my most vivid memories that freshmen year in house.
I ask you one question before I retire for the night... Where else can you live with an intercom, 74 college girls, and a spring afternoon entirely dedicated to remembering the late and great legend: Heath Ledger?
Only at Tappa Kappa.
And now I tell you one truth. If you live in that house or you get the pleasure to.... Don’t wish time away. Cherish how unique it is living with 74 different women under one roof. Because you’ll want it all back when you finally move out for good.
Sweet Dreams.
RIP Heath Ledger. The man I still claim when I get asked the question: “Who I would spend the day with... Dead or Alive?”
Some of the things we used the intercom for:
- I'm ready to go to the frozen yogurt place, but my BFF, big, or twin isn't down here yet... Oh yeah. And I'm impatient or too lazy to run up the stairs and check on them. OR I forgot I owned a phone of my own and could just text them.
- Come down and clean up the dining room! (insert a comment about pledges or freshmen)
- MAN ON TWO!!! (when a guy is on the second or third floor)
- It's my 21st birthday and me and my BFFs made it home safely from the bars.... Wahooooooo!!
- It's just another typical night at the bars, but I really think you need to hear this new song on my iPhone before I go storming through the house!!
- Someone is here to serenade us!! Come downstairs!!!
- Begging for older members to mock rush with the newbies.... Bump Points!
There were other reasons we used it, but none was as memorable and significant as the call out on the afternoon of January 22, 2008. This was my first month to be living in the sorority house and I had already been doubting the reality of it all. I mean who wants to willingly live with 74 women... for anywhere from 2-6 semesters? Can you say drama?!
So here I am in Grand Central with my roommates and good friend just minding my own business. I am surfing the internet after a morning of classes, and chatting away. All of a sudden a muffled shout of the intercom comes from the hallway.
“H...Le....Ha....Ed!! Ahhhh.......!”
My curious roommate goes to the door and opens it. Once again it belts across the crackly intercom system...
“HEATH LEDGER HAS DIED!!!! OHHH MY GOOOSSHHHHH! A DRUG OVERDOSE!”
This was back before the days of Twitter, so I couldn’t just pop in and check out the breaking news from both legit sources and from my very knowledgable pop culture friends. Instead, I headed over to MSN.
Nothing popped up instantly, and I was convinced someone had just came home from the Penny after an early Happy Hour. I mean Heath wasn’t into drugs. I’d know. He is my favorite actor and future husband. He has a daughter. Famous movie people with daughters don’t overdose on drugs... Well. Nevermind. Heath doesn’t overdose.
I begin to panic after the 15th refresh on MSN. Heath’s handsome face pops up... That dreamy smile and piercing eyes. He never looked more alive and happy-- Not exactly the poster child for drugs! But alas, the title spoke no lies and confirmed the grim news spread on the intercom 3 minutes earlier.
My future husband had died. Of a supposed drug overdose. (Damn.)
I am almost 99.9% positive I cried a few tears. I couldn’t believe it. But this was just the beginning. All of a sudden a couple girls came into the room.
“Did you hear the news?” .... “I can’t believe it.” .... “Maybe he is punking the world?” .... “He was so sexy.” ..... “Remember his accent in 10 Things I Hate About You?” ..... “Or him in A Knight’s Tale? Totally hot.” .... “Brokeback...? Well at least he can end on the Batman movie...”
It was surreal. This was the most talking I had done with these women since I moved in... And all from a devastating announcement through the intercom.
This was real life in the sorority. Totally normal, and still remains one of my most vivid memories that freshmen year in house.
I ask you one question before I retire for the night... Where else can you live with an intercom, 74 college girls, and a spring afternoon entirely dedicated to remembering the late and great legend: Heath Ledger?
Only at Tappa Kappa.
And now I tell you one truth. If you live in that house or you get the pleasure to.... Don’t wish time away. Cherish how unique it is living with 74 different women under one roof. Because you’ll want it all back when you finally move out for good.
Sweet Dreams.
RIP Heath Ledger. The man I still claim when I get asked the question: “Who I would spend the day with... Dead or Alive?”
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Challenge at the Colvin
Okay, so I am sure if you are a Twitter-er you have seen my two tweets so far about the #colvintabs. If you are on campus, I am sure you have heard about the usual outrageous upsurge of people at the Colvin. And, if you are a normal Colvin goer, you are probably JUST as annoyed as me with the little thing called, "New Years Resolutions."
Quick thoughts from my perspective about New Years Resolutions. If you need a new year to start in order to make a goal for yourself... Odds are you probably aren't going to stick with it. I saw a stat that 3 out of 10 people have already given up their New Years Resolution. It is Jan. 16. Check Mate.
College OSU law states that spring semester shall be a busy time for the Colvin center. With the New Years Resolutions, peak times are about every hour of the day until around the start of February. Then February is chill until the end. Then the men and women of OSU begin to panic. Two words will define their diet and exercise habits for the next month. Spring. Break. And the crowds fill the Colvin once again. After we jump the SB hurdle, the Colvin goes back to those people who either A: Enjoy working out (my past roommate) or B: Has to combat the grizzly fate of becoming the half ton woman on TLC (me).
Even today, a lazy Sunday on a three-day weekend, the Colvin was hopping. Now, this past week I have been noticing a trend. Lots of "challenge" t-shirts have been coming out of the wood-works. Normally I notice an abundance of high school shirts, greek shirts, and OSU paraphernalia, but this week.... T-Shirts sent me strong messages. One I wasn't keen on....
So here I am walking at my brisk... okay at a speed of 2.5 WHILE on a high incline when I see a gazelle on an elliptical. I look at the back of her shirt and it says, “GET ON OUR LEVEL” in obnoxiously large print. Nothing else. No explanation of what level or directions on how to do it. Just a threat and challenge to get on an apparently desirable level.
Now, you can say that I am reading way to much into this, but it is a feat to trot my less than enthused rear over to the Colvin to work out everyday. It’s not like I enjoy working out, so seeing overly abrasive t-shirts really pushes my buttons. Can't a girl work out in peace? I then got curious if anyone else had something to say... I looked at the machines to the right and saw my next one...
“GO CLIMB A MOUNTAIN”
What? ... I mean I am walking on a 9.5 incline. To my knowledge, this is basically Mt. Fuji without rocks. Thank goodness this one had something to reference though. In small print at the bottom, it said.... “Yosemite Park.” Go figure. Now, this one was less offensive. I mean there was some kind of point and direction. I came to the solution that if I was ever in Yosemite, I would take this young lady’s advice and ‘go climb a mountain.’ Great. Another one for the bucket list.
Finally as I am finishing up on my very extreme work out... 3.2 speed now! I see the last straw:
“YOU CAN’T HANDLE THIS!”
Ohhhhh reallllllyyyyy... I can’t? Maybe I can! Double dog dare me to do whatever it is and I bet... Oh wait. Subtitle at the bottom. Marine Corps. Yeah. You got me. I probably couldn’t hang with that... Ugh. Dang you challenge t-shirts!
In the spirit of the blog, I now challenge you to go on over to the Colvin. Well, actually scratch that. Don’t go intentionally to see the infestation of t-shirts with dares on them. We are already over-populated, and I need a parking spot when I go to work out.
Instead, if you happen to be at the Colvin for whatever reason... Take tabs on the overly zealous t-shirts. Perhaps one might even inspire you to do something... Or, you might just understand where my annoyance spawns from. Either way, remember the truly important things:
Only 349 days left in 2011
Only 55 days left till Spring Break 2011
Happy Work Outing, dedicated readers!
Quick thoughts from my perspective about New Years Resolutions. If you need a new year to start in order to make a goal for yourself... Odds are you probably aren't going to stick with it. I saw a stat that 3 out of 10 people have already given up their New Years Resolution. It is Jan. 16. Check Mate.
College OSU law states that spring semester shall be a busy time for the Colvin center. With the New Years Resolutions, peak times are about every hour of the day until around the start of February. Then February is chill until the end. Then the men and women of OSU begin to panic. Two words will define their diet and exercise habits for the next month. Spring. Break. And the crowds fill the Colvin once again. After we jump the SB hurdle, the Colvin goes back to those people who either A: Enjoy working out (my past roommate) or B: Has to combat the grizzly fate of becoming the half ton woman on TLC (me).
Even today, a lazy Sunday on a three-day weekend, the Colvin was hopping. Now, this past week I have been noticing a trend. Lots of "challenge" t-shirts have been coming out of the wood-works. Normally I notice an abundance of high school shirts, greek shirts, and OSU paraphernalia, but this week.... T-Shirts sent me strong messages. One I wasn't keen on....
So here I am walking at my brisk... okay at a speed of 2.5 WHILE on a high incline when I see a gazelle on an elliptical. I look at the back of her shirt and it says, “GET ON OUR LEVEL” in obnoxiously large print. Nothing else. No explanation of what level or directions on how to do it. Just a threat and challenge to get on an apparently desirable level.
Now, you can say that I am reading way to much into this, but it is a feat to trot my less than enthused rear over to the Colvin to work out everyday. It’s not like I enjoy working out, so seeing overly abrasive t-shirts really pushes my buttons. Can't a girl work out in peace? I then got curious if anyone else had something to say... I looked at the machines to the right and saw my next one...
“GO CLIMB A MOUNTAIN”
What? ... I mean I am walking on a 9.5 incline. To my knowledge, this is basically Mt. Fuji without rocks. Thank goodness this one had something to reference though. In small print at the bottom, it said.... “Yosemite Park.” Go figure. Now, this one was less offensive. I mean there was some kind of point and direction. I came to the solution that if I was ever in Yosemite, I would take this young lady’s advice and ‘go climb a mountain.’ Great. Another one for the bucket list.
Finally as I am finishing up on my very extreme work out... 3.2 speed now! I see the last straw:
“YOU CAN’T HANDLE THIS!”
Ohhhhh reallllllyyyyy... I can’t? Maybe I can! Double dog dare me to do whatever it is and I bet... Oh wait. Subtitle at the bottom. Marine Corps. Yeah. You got me. I probably couldn’t hang with that... Ugh. Dang you challenge t-shirts!
In the spirit of the blog, I now challenge you to go on over to the Colvin. Well, actually scratch that. Don’t go intentionally to see the infestation of t-shirts with dares on them. We are already over-populated, and I need a parking spot when I go to work out.
Instead, if you happen to be at the Colvin for whatever reason... Take tabs on the overly zealous t-shirts. Perhaps one might even inspire you to do something... Or, you might just understand where my annoyance spawns from. Either way, remember the truly important things:
Only 349 days left in 2011
Only 55 days left till Spring Break 2011
Happy Work Outing, dedicated readers!
Saturday, January 8, 2011
In House Living
Today the house opened up at 3 pm for all the new tenants of the great Tappa Kappa (imaginary name for my chapter). I am jealous for about 4.35 seconds of their journey until I stop and think about the moving-in process. Nothing makes me want to gouge my eyes out more than hauling my life up a flight of stairs and then cram it all into a 4 foot closet and 4 drawers. Listen, if you don't have a family member or members slash a boyfriend or guy friend to assist, moving into the house is a nightmare.
I never lived on the third floor for the fact that I refused to skip my happy rear up those stairs everyday, not to mention moving all my junk up and down the stairs. I think I bring an abnormally large amount of crap for a semester, but I never have to borrow things! I am the one who loans stuff out. It's the equivalent of having a mom purse completely equipped with pliers, a first aid kit, a mini flashlight, three types of Chapstick and 4 sizes of safety pins. You just never know what you will need during the semester.
I am already trying to figure out random excuses to come by and check things out. I never ate meals when I lived in house, but it looks like that I'll be making up for lost time. Meal eating is fairly casual and no one will feel bombarded by my presence... The biggest draw back of living out of house would be A: not having a senior parking spot and B: not having the luxury of quickly dropping by someone's room to say hi. Now I have to gamble and hope they are there when I drop by or actually text slash call them to get their status. Problem being that now I have initiated an event. If I call and say, "What are you doing? Just wanted to drop by and say hi..." and they are busy, it obligates you to then set up a future time to come by OR play the fake, "I'll come by later" card. Both are cornering methods that I won't really want to follow through with after I drive all the way back to my house... See the conundrum?
I will keep it short tonight because I know if you are a college student you are either moving and settling in or meeting up and catching up with friends.
Let me leave you with some Senior memories that create a Bucket List for living in house. (in no particular order)
1. Make a grilled cheese sandwich in the kitchenette. (Hint: Use both the toaster and the microwave)
2. Own a pet and keep it in house. I would stick to the fish category.
3. Sit outside on the front porch while babies are going on coke dates. See the magic happen.
4. Do parliamentary procedure in the 5-girl before you are going to sleep. No better way to drift off into dreamland.
5. Do some kind of outrageous craft in your room... Oh lets say mosaics!
6. Watch Glee, Grey’s or Private Practice in the common room’s with the TV. I double dog dare you to talk!
7. Randomly go to Wal Mart. Buy Nerf guns. Bring them back to the house. Go on a rampage. (Didn’t do this personally, but witnessed it. Had to be fun!)
8. Bring a dog into the house and sneak
9. Toilet paper your roommate’s bed.
10. Buy bean bags for your room. Totally worth the investment.
11. Sit around with your fellow annexers and write suggestions for the Suggestion Box.
12. Watch Family Feud in the Sun Room while eating lunch.
13. Nap in basement-- No wireless, no cell phone reception. What else would you do down there?
14. Vent or cry in your vehicle out in the Tri Pi lot. I found calling my mom to ball and vent about my terrible day was more effectively executed in my truck rather than the room I was living in.
15. Find a way to pirate internet from a better server. The house internet is infested with dwarves who cut the connection every 45 minutes.
16. Have a private stash of pop (24 pack Diet Coke was my favorite) for when you are too lazy to put on shoes and drive to the Barn or Quench-Bud’s or Sonic.
I really think there are more things out there that you should do while in house, but I’m trying to keep it short! Also, it would be great if anyone had additions to this list to share it in the comments section or comment on the Facebook link....
Challenge: If you have an addition to my “Things to do while living in house” list, share it! Don’t be shy. I would love to hear more.
I never lived on the third floor for the fact that I refused to skip my happy rear up those stairs everyday, not to mention moving all my junk up and down the stairs. I think I bring an abnormally large amount of crap for a semester, but I never have to borrow things! I am the one who loans stuff out. It's the equivalent of having a mom purse completely equipped with pliers, a first aid kit, a mini flashlight, three types of Chapstick and 4 sizes of safety pins. You just never know what you will need during the semester.
I am already trying to figure out random excuses to come by and check things out. I never ate meals when I lived in house, but it looks like that I'll be making up for lost time. Meal eating is fairly casual and no one will feel bombarded by my presence... The biggest draw back of living out of house would be A: not having a senior parking spot and B: not having the luxury of quickly dropping by someone's room to say hi. Now I have to gamble and hope they are there when I drop by or actually text slash call them to get their status. Problem being that now I have initiated an event. If I call and say, "What are you doing? Just wanted to drop by and say hi..." and they are busy, it obligates you to then set up a future time to come by OR play the fake, "I'll come by later" card. Both are cornering methods that I won't really want to follow through with after I drive all the way back to my house... See the conundrum?
I will keep it short tonight because I know if you are a college student you are either moving and settling in or meeting up and catching up with friends.
Let me leave you with some Senior memories that create a Bucket List for living in house. (in no particular order)
1. Make a grilled cheese sandwich in the kitchenette. (Hint: Use both the toaster and the microwave)
2. Own a pet and keep it in house. I would stick to the fish category.
3. Sit outside on the front porch while babies are going on coke dates. See the magic happen.
4. Do parliamentary procedure in the 5-girl before you are going to sleep. No better way to drift off into dreamland.
5. Do some kind of outrageous craft in your room... Oh lets say mosaics!
6. Watch Glee, Grey’s or Private Practice in the common room’s with the TV. I double dog dare you to talk!
7. Randomly go to Wal Mart. Buy Nerf guns. Bring them back to the house. Go on a rampage. (Didn’t do this personally, but witnessed it. Had to be fun!)
8. Bring a dog into the house and sneak
9. Toilet paper your roommate’s bed.
10. Buy bean bags for your room. Totally worth the investment.
11. Sit around with your fellow annexers and write suggestions for the Suggestion Box.
12. Watch Family Feud in the Sun Room while eating lunch.
13. Nap in basement-- No wireless, no cell phone reception. What else would you do down there?
14. Vent or cry in your vehicle out in the Tri Pi lot. I found calling my mom to ball and vent about my terrible day was more effectively executed in my truck rather than the room I was living in.
15. Find a way to pirate internet from a better server. The house internet is infested with dwarves who cut the connection every 45 minutes.
16. Have a private stash of pop (24 pack Diet Coke was my favorite) for when you are too lazy to put on shoes and drive to the Barn or Quench-Bud’s or Sonic.
I really think there are more things out there that you should do while in house, but I’m trying to keep it short! Also, it would be great if anyone had additions to this list to share it in the comments section or comment on the Facebook link....
Challenge: If you have an addition to my “Things to do while living in house” list, share it! Don’t be shy. I would love to hear more.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Mommy Dearest
Today my mom is coming into town to look at my new house and of course visit her favorite daughter!
I'm pretty much moved into the house and the necessities are on: water, electricity, Internet and cable. I must say that having a whole house to myself (for the most part) is nuts. I have always lived in a my parent’s house, a dorm room and then the sorority house. Thus, I've really only enjoyed the luxury of having my own room or partial room. Now, though, I have a WHOLE house. I can't tell if I like it or not.... Still in the trial period.
Anyways, Doli is coming. And I have been asked for a post about house mom's, but I haven't really had a good lead in. Even more importantly, this is a complicated subject. Like always, I don't aim to hurt people or offend anyone in this blog. I seek to tell the truth and house moms are one of those subjects that require perspective.
First of all, I think we all despise our parental figures every now and then. I mean they are there to make up rules and then enforce them. They keep an eye on us even when we think we have it under control. They give advice when it's the last thing you want to hear. And after all their annoying habits, we still love them because they are our parents. With that in mind-- house moms were nothing like a real parent to me.
It seems that my pledge class is one of change. I don't really know what it was about us, but nothing ever stays the same... Multiple traditions have been manipulated, changed or eliminated all together. House mom's are not immune from our mysterious power. We are on our 3rd house mom in 4 years. Not exactly normal...
Starting at the top. Mom Q.
When I joined a sorority, I thought the idea of a house mom was dumb. I already have a mom and wasn't the point of coming to college to shed the shackles of the parents? We were told early on that everyone calls Mom Q, Mom. Um, no. Weird.
Mom Q had a peculiar way about her. She was fairly laid back and communicated with us through memos. The memos always had emoticons on them... And they were the updated kind. Not just :) but

Sometimes she would throw in a tongue face for emphasis. Another quark of hers was to call all of the girls she didn't know, "babe," "baby," or "hun." I never really took offense to this until about mid-semester of the first time living in house. I was one of 5 freshmen who moved in AND I had become deathly ill at some point and she had to take action on my behalf. I mean, I thought that would of left some kind of impression, but no. I was still babe.
My favorite part of Mom Q was her rebellious nature. There were always rumors of her smoking in the back of the house, and she was never one to freak out about naps, water, or snacks in the formal living room... Especially during finals week.
Mom Q was a lot like Doli. She would rather be our friends than the old hag who walked around on a power trip. I regret not fully appreciating her before she quit and moved to another sorority house. (The sorority house she transferred to had a kitchen in her apartment-- we can't compete with that! Our house mom apartment barely has living room.) I really should have told her more thank you's and maybe drop her first initial and just call her Mom every now and then because she was a trip in Candyland compared to what was coming down the pipes!
Second house mom lasted about a semester. She was ancient... And let's call her Mom DeDe. She didn't actually want us to call her mom, which now, ironically, offended me. Why wouldn't you want us calling you mom? I mean you're title is House Mom. What do you want the composite to say?? Strange Lady in Charge? She ended up settling for the mom title but would NOT allow the shortening of her name.... She was not Mom D.
I was strongly against this character House Corp has chosen to replace Mom Q. So much that I insisted she didn't talk during recruitment. Her nature was not warm. It wasn't welcoming. Honestly, I was always scared she was going to keel over. Even so, she had some redeeming qualities... Like never posting memos. Never talking to us. Never coming out of her room. At Dad's Day, my mom declared that she resembled a garden gnome. Both in looks and personality. I think we all really missed Mom Q...
Sometime during the semester, she ended up having a very debilitating asthma attack. We had to call an ambulance and it really shook us up. Before we could fire her though, she switched the tables on us. Turns out she was only using us! She was on a waiting list for a premier retirement home, and was just squatting at our house until the retirement home called her up. Low and behold, around Thanksgiving they called. She moved out before the semester even ended and I'm pretty sure both parties were mutually happy for the departure.
So feeling like Greek misfits, our House Corp spent winter break looking for a better replacement. I was crossing my fingers for a new kitchen in the house mom apartment and an under-the-table-deal that resulted in Mom Q's return, but my wish wasn't granted.
Our current house mom is... Um controversial? I say that because I think she has mixed reviews from us sorority members. Some of my sisters are on the proponent side, while some of us are strongly planted on the opponent side. The rest are either indifferent or walk the fence. I am an opponent because I believe she is the walking example of why we should call the women in charge of our house "house manager" not "house mom." I mean, they aren't our mom! Okay, lets make an imaginary name for the final mom... I like Mom Meanie. I'm not for sure if she requested using her whole name, or if we just kept it out of respect for the old mom's preference, but we use her first name with Mom instead of the initial.
I wasn't convinced if I liked the new mom at first. We had to feel each other out, but I didn't get any warm, fuzzy feelings at first. Turns out this was her first time to be a house mom. Interesting choice House Corp... Being this was her first time, I think she just kind of forgot the house of 75 girls with an additional 75 active members out of house or annex bound were not her children. We weren't living under "her roof." In all actuality, we pay GOOD money to live, eat, and breathe in the mansion. I can't remember the first line she crossed and really there are too many to even recount but to sum it up, she wasn't shy about letting us know how she felt. Emails are her favorite way to communicate followed closely by memos. But her memos do not have smiley faces. In fact, hers ooze attitude. And not the good, peppy kind either.
Some of here antics include: threatening to throw away lost and found objects or anything laying unattended on the first floor; locking our second floor door to the deck (it was dangerous); strictly enforcing the no food or drink in the formal living room (even during finals); locking the kitchenette because it was unkept and filthy; bringing a sister to tears for inappropriately using the big kitchen during recruitment; restricting our desserts because we were getting a little hefty; criticizing every part of the events we hold (previous event planner and proclaimed perfectionist equals neurotic house mom during our events); locking our craft closet because... She could? I don't know about that one; throwing out personal food items in the fridge that are perfectly edible (i.e. Left overs from the night before or groceries with clear expiration dates on them); going through our rooms and chastising us for living a messy lifestyle (it wasn't room check day, so that is completely in the rule book to be messy!); and some other things I'm sure I have forgotten. My favorite part about her is that she talks crap on us via her Facebook page. Really classy. I get monitored for every status, tweet, and picture I post, but apparently she doesn't.
I can only assume her abrasive personality and bombarding actions are only because she is new. Or at least that's what House Corp keeps telling us. I doubt we get a new house mom for awhile, so good luck to future generations on breaking Mom Meanie in.
I think I'll apply for house mom when I get old enough. I'd be the best house mom. Totally chill and level headed. I think the key to being a good house parent is gaining respect and we all know that you have to give it before you can get it. Such a life lesson for all realms of society.
I'd like to leave you with a memento to my favorite house mom-- Mom Q
I'm pretty much moved into the house and the necessities are on: water, electricity, Internet and cable. I must say that having a whole house to myself (for the most part) is nuts. I have always lived in a my parent’s house, a dorm room and then the sorority house. Thus, I've really only enjoyed the luxury of having my own room or partial room. Now, though, I have a WHOLE house. I can't tell if I like it or not.... Still in the trial period.
Anyways, Doli is coming. And I have been asked for a post about house mom's, but I haven't really had a good lead in. Even more importantly, this is a complicated subject. Like always, I don't aim to hurt people or offend anyone in this blog. I seek to tell the truth and house moms are one of those subjects that require perspective.
First of all, I think we all despise our parental figures every now and then. I mean they are there to make up rules and then enforce them. They keep an eye on us even when we think we have it under control. They give advice when it's the last thing you want to hear. And after all their annoying habits, we still love them because they are our parents. With that in mind-- house moms were nothing like a real parent to me.
It seems that my pledge class is one of change. I don't really know what it was about us, but nothing ever stays the same... Multiple traditions have been manipulated, changed or eliminated all together. House mom's are not immune from our mysterious power. We are on our 3rd house mom in 4 years. Not exactly normal...
Starting at the top. Mom Q.
When I joined a sorority, I thought the idea of a house mom was dumb. I already have a mom and wasn't the point of coming to college to shed the shackles of the parents? We were told early on that everyone calls Mom Q, Mom. Um, no. Weird.
Mom Q had a peculiar way about her. She was fairly laid back and communicated with us through memos. The memos always had emoticons on them... And they were the updated kind. Not just :) but

Sometimes she would throw in a tongue face for emphasis. Another quark of hers was to call all of the girls she didn't know, "babe," "baby," or "hun." I never really took offense to this until about mid-semester of the first time living in house. I was one of 5 freshmen who moved in AND I had become deathly ill at some point and she had to take action on my behalf. I mean, I thought that would of left some kind of impression, but no. I was still babe.
My favorite part of Mom Q was her rebellious nature. There were always rumors of her smoking in the back of the house, and she was never one to freak out about naps, water, or snacks in the formal living room... Especially during finals week.
Mom Q was a lot like Doli. She would rather be our friends than the old hag who walked around on a power trip. I regret not fully appreciating her before she quit and moved to another sorority house. (The sorority house she transferred to had a kitchen in her apartment-- we can't compete with that! Our house mom apartment barely has living room.) I really should have told her more thank you's and maybe drop her first initial and just call her Mom every now and then because she was a trip in Candyland compared to what was coming down the pipes!
Second house mom lasted about a semester. She was ancient... And let's call her Mom DeDe. She didn't actually want us to call her mom, which now, ironically, offended me. Why wouldn't you want us calling you mom? I mean you're title is House Mom. What do you want the composite to say?? Strange Lady in Charge? She ended up settling for the mom title but would NOT allow the shortening of her name.... She was not Mom D.
I was strongly against this character House Corp has chosen to replace Mom Q. So much that I insisted she didn't talk during recruitment. Her nature was not warm. It wasn't welcoming. Honestly, I was always scared she was going to keel over. Even so, she had some redeeming qualities... Like never posting memos. Never talking to us. Never coming out of her room. At Dad's Day, my mom declared that she resembled a garden gnome. Both in looks and personality. I think we all really missed Mom Q...
Sometime during the semester, she ended up having a very debilitating asthma attack. We had to call an ambulance and it really shook us up. Before we could fire her though, she switched the tables on us. Turns out she was only using us! She was on a waiting list for a premier retirement home, and was just squatting at our house until the retirement home called her up. Low and behold, around Thanksgiving they called. She moved out before the semester even ended and I'm pretty sure both parties were mutually happy for the departure.
So feeling like Greek misfits, our House Corp spent winter break looking for a better replacement. I was crossing my fingers for a new kitchen in the house mom apartment and an under-the-table-deal that resulted in Mom Q's return, but my wish wasn't granted.
Our current house mom is... Um controversial? I say that because I think she has mixed reviews from us sorority members. Some of my sisters are on the proponent side, while some of us are strongly planted on the opponent side. The rest are either indifferent or walk the fence. I am an opponent because I believe she is the walking example of why we should call the women in charge of our house "house manager" not "house mom." I mean, they aren't our mom! Okay, lets make an imaginary name for the final mom... I like Mom Meanie. I'm not for sure if she requested using her whole name, or if we just kept it out of respect for the old mom's preference, but we use her first name with Mom instead of the initial.
I wasn't convinced if I liked the new mom at first. We had to feel each other out, but I didn't get any warm, fuzzy feelings at first. Turns out this was her first time to be a house mom. Interesting choice House Corp... Being this was her first time, I think she just kind of forgot the house of 75 girls with an additional 75 active members out of house or annex bound were not her children. We weren't living under "her roof." In all actuality, we pay GOOD money to live, eat, and breathe in the mansion. I can't remember the first line she crossed and really there are too many to even recount but to sum it up, she wasn't shy about letting us know how she felt. Emails are her favorite way to communicate followed closely by memos. But her memos do not have smiley faces. In fact, hers ooze attitude. And not the good, peppy kind either.
Some of here antics include: threatening to throw away lost and found objects or anything laying unattended on the first floor; locking our second floor door to the deck (it was dangerous); strictly enforcing the no food or drink in the formal living room (even during finals); locking the kitchenette because it was unkept and filthy; bringing a sister to tears for inappropriately using the big kitchen during recruitment; restricting our desserts because we were getting a little hefty; criticizing every part of the events we hold (previous event planner and proclaimed perfectionist equals neurotic house mom during our events); locking our craft closet because... She could? I don't know about that one; throwing out personal food items in the fridge that are perfectly edible (i.e. Left overs from the night before or groceries with clear expiration dates on them); going through our rooms and chastising us for living a messy lifestyle (it wasn't room check day, so that is completely in the rule book to be messy!); and some other things I'm sure I have forgotten. My favorite part about her is that she talks crap on us via her Facebook page. Really classy. I get monitored for every status, tweet, and picture I post, but apparently she doesn't.
I can only assume her abrasive personality and bombarding actions are only because she is new. Or at least that's what House Corp keeps telling us. I doubt we get a new house mom for awhile, so good luck to future generations on breaking Mom Meanie in.
I think I'll apply for house mom when I get old enough. I'd be the best house mom. Totally chill and level headed. I think the key to being a good house parent is gaining respect and we all know that you have to give it before you can get it. Such a life lesson for all realms of society.
I'd like to leave you with a memento to my favorite house mom-- Mom Q
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