Jennifer

I suppose I should begin with an introduction. Introductions are always awkward, aren't they? I'm a sophomore journalism major at the University of Texas at Austin. I drink like a fish and curse like a sailor. I'm a sorority girl-- a sorostitute, as some call us. I'm not quite a sorostitute though. I don't fit the description perfectly. What is the description? Well, the classic sorostitute prances to class in designer jeans, a frat pocket t-shirt, and Rainbows. She gets her hair highlighted in an expensive salon, but never dramatic, streaky highlights. A sorostitute never looks trashy. Oh no. Pearls around the neck, diamonds in the ears. She dates rich fratdaddies from old money. Her purse costs more than some people's cars. On the weekends she goes to various frat houses ("frats around") in a shiny shirt with tiny straps, dark jeans, and pointy-toed heels. Her lips are perpetually glossed and her hair perpetually straightened. She loves her dad and the Republican party.

This is the stereotype though, and many exceptions exist. I am one of these exceptions. I admit I have my share of shiny shirts and designer jeans, and maybe I have natural-looking highlights. However, I am a flaming liberal and drink most of my sisters under the table. I never go anywhere without my engraved silver flask. I usually stock it with everclear, which I began watering down after my bestie's doctor told her the firewater had partially eroded her stomach lining. My besties are pretty fucking crazy. The three of us-- me, Marie, and Lux call ourselves Triple Trouble (yes, kindof like the Beastie Boys). Originally Marie acted as the sober voice of reason and kept Lux and me out of trouble. Recently she broke up with her boyfriend and started drinking heavily again. Now no one keeps us in line. Join us as we spiral out of control living out our motto of "drinking, shacking, and never looking backing." Wait... is that right? Sorry, I'm already five jello shots into my afternoon.