With the big g-word right around the corner, I’ve really been paying attention to all the things about this school I love and all that I’ve learned in my time here. Although I’m just one lil chick in a big coop of Blue Hens, I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s made some questionable decisions these 4 years at UD. So here is a list of what all of those bad decisions, bottles of Burnetts, and busted dages have taught me.
Stay away from the dining hall salad bar. Freshman 15 is real and scary but so are centipedes in your spinach. Just don’t do it.
Court IS an excused absence. Save the skip for a day you’ll actually need it, and just tell your professor what’s up. It won’t be the first time they’ve heard of someone getting busted walking down N Chap carrying a Four Loko.
Literally NO ONE cares what you look like in class. Pajama pants? Cool. Suit? Cool. Last night’s shorts and a random shack shirt? Even cooler.
Body counts don’t matter to anyone except your 78 year old grandmother. Freshman year the jump from 3 to 4 seems HUGE but, it won’t matter come May of senior year when you’re at 25 and competing with your roommates to see who can sleep with the most guys before graduation. (Hypothetically speaking, of course.)
It’s okay to clog a frat toilet with vomit. Seriously no one will ever know it’s you. HOWEVER. People really do live in the Brick Row. Don’t fuck up their house for no reason. They do it enough for themselves as it is.
What really makes Grottos so great is how long you’ve waited to get in. Yes, it’s a chain pizza place but you’ll spend 4 years walking past that porch, just waiting for your chance at a Slater race in the sun. And when it comes, which it will, you will feel as cool as you’ve always hoped.
Snowballing off of that, use your fake anywhere BUT Grottos. If you walk away with only one thing from this article, let it be this. While I loved being Liz and Sara during syllabus week, it wasn’t worth the semester-long ban I got when I finally got to be myself.
Warm Natty is best when you already have 7 shots of Orange Crème Burnetts in you.
Remember last Saturday when that boy specifically asked you not to show up to his house but you did anyway so he kicked you out in front of all his friends? Yeah, no one else does either. Don’t worry about it. We all do dumb shit when we’re fucked up.
Threesomes are easier to come by than you think. So are drugs. And pink hair dye. Whatever you want to experiment with, do it now.
Go for the house with the porch. Whether it’s Cleve, Choate, or N Chap, that porch is going to be so much cooler than “being closer to the bars guys c’mon I live ON Main Street!”
Ghosts are real. Whether it’s Hot John from Bio or that Pi Krapp boy who’s number you got at Bella over the weekend, all boys have a little bit of ghoul in them. Honestly, just shake it off and buy a vibrator.
Class is important, but you’ll still walk across the stage if you miss some. You’re going to remember that random day trip to Dewey with your friends a lot more than you’re going to remember that formula from your math class.
Your best friends senior year will be the ones you started with freshman year. Sure, there will be new additions—maybe even some random guy who doesn’t even go here that’s always asleep on your friends’ couch or the girl who was always hanging with the guys from your dorm that ended up in the same sorority as you—and they’ll add so much happiness to your days. Nevertheless, your truest and realest homies will always be the ones you did geebs with in your Dickinson dorm room.
Finally, just relax. Here I am, sitting on my Cleveland porch with the girls who lived down the hall from me freshman year by my side, waiting for the 127 boys to get here so we can start drinking. It all works out the way it’s supposed to. Enjoy your time, Blue Hens, because I know I wish I had more.
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