The Code
My lovely sister, Jennifer, was in a sorority. Alpha Epsilon Delta Beta Pi Cake Ice Cream Candy and from time to time she’d let me visit and spend the night. She had lovely friends that I had some, maybe, crushes on. Whatever dude. I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sometimes they’d have secret meetings in the basement that no one else was allowed to attend and she couldn’t say what they talked about because sororities are very secretive with all the secrets because they are very important. It’s like how Gus and Harlow and I have meetings and we don’t tell the other cats or Janie about how we’re going to eat chicken when they’re not around. Oh, we’re SO AWFUL!
I don’t remember being told about a dress code but since sororities are so important, I am sure they had one that involved dresses and shoes and vodka. It was probably like that one time my mom said that if she ever had her own business and she hired me I’d have to follow her dress code and the rules were to dress in skirts and wear lipstick. I had to tell her that I quit because I DO NOT WEAR SKIRTS, sorry. Also, NO LIPSTICK UNLESS I SAY I WANT TO WEAR LIPSTICK. Certainly never to work. What am I, a whore?
Anyhow, online yesterday I came across some batshitcrazy Cornell sorority dress code that’s been circulating about Al Gore’s series of tubes. Here is the link to it if you want to see what some ivy league sorority assholes think about when they’re not busy thinking of other horrifying ways to judge one another. Sororities are awful, terrible institutions except, you know, that one my sister was in with all her wonderful and very pretty friends. One of which was kind enough to let me listen to OPP repeatedly on her ghetto blaster and another of which is my heterosexual walking life partner whom I adore like a sister, except the kind of sister who leaves baking day early or doesn’t show up at all because she has to “help a friend paint her house”. A sister that makes me cry. That kind of sister.
My point here is that I felt inspired to create a dress code of my very own! A dress code for being in our home and then a dress code for viewing this website. Both are very simple: JANIE, TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT.
Thank you.
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(image by Ed “themonkeyking” Reynolds)
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Come to my house and I will make bake with gluten just for you without declaring a you-cannot-have-a-conflict holiday. Be warned: I will be happy to let you know all about how that dress code could do a lot of people a lot of good. Love, your HSWLF
i’d last say maybe five seconds in a sorority if that’s how they really are. in fact, it makes me glad my family was too poor to send me to a fancy college.
love that cartoon, has it worked yet? is janie abiding? (don’t tell her i said that.)
.-= leah´s last blog ..Rise In Teen Sexual Activity Comes As Surprise To Area Teen =-.
This is one of those posts where I can’t even pick out the part that made me laugh the hardest — goddamn, you made my day!
Hey, Janie — do a sister a solid, willya? TAKE YOUR TOP OFF!
We’ll see…
I clicked on that link and read the sorority guidelines. Well, I “read” them. Actually, while I was seeing what seemed like actual words going by, collectively, they had absolutely no meaning for me. It was like all I could hear in my head was a high-pitched cheeping, squeaking noise. Kind of like a tiny baby chicken.
This is probably not entirely dissimilar to the way I experienced some sorority girls way back when I was an undergraduate. But I can’t remember, really. (Apparently I never had a crush on one.)
In what is a rare occurrence, I feel compelled to defend the sisterhood a bit. Sororities aren’t just a bunch of skinny, rich bitches with a sense of entitlement who spend their time shopping and being slutty, although that does sound awesome, doesn’t it?! (Just kidding, for those of you who are too serious and can’t tell that was a joke.) My sorority, and I suspect most others, was a bunch of normal college girls who just happened to live in the same house. There were weekly meetings and some unnecessary singing, for sure, but otherwise it was pretty much like the dorms sans men. I did meet my very best friend in the sorority (whom Linsey has been mildly successful in poaching, BTW) and she dresses nice, shaves her legs and has excellent table manners (a gift from the sorority days) – and so do I.
Thanks, Jen! And Lins, you know I did love that unnecessary singing. . .
Have you thought of just turning the heat up really high so that no one in their right mind would want to wear a shirt or if that’s too environmentally unsound and expensive, just throwing all the shirts in the house in the trash?
.-= XUP´s last blog ..Stuff We Can Never Have =-.
I would like to defend all people who enjoy wearing lipstick – wearing lipstick does not make one a whore. I hate that word whore or any other name someone calls someone as a matter of course. There are good people and there are not-so-good people. That’s it.
Now carry on and behave yourself.
P.S.: As for your sister and your adopted sister – they were awesome sorority girl and they actually had table mammers before they joined, thanks to their awesome Moms!
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please don’t steal
Copyright 2007-2011
All of it. Even that thing I wrote that time.
Even this: poop. poop. poop.
That's mine. I wrote it.
When you steal, a kitten breaks its leg. True story.
Thank you.
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