Comments on: The Code

By: youknowwho

youknowwho — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 23:27:36 +0000

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!

By: XUP

XUP — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 23:06:17 +0000

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

By: D.

D. — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 01:42:19 +0000

Thanks, Jen! And Lins, you know I did love that unnecessary singing. . .

By: Jennifer

Jennifer — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 00:03:41 +0000

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.

By: Robin O

Robin O — Wed, 27 Jan 2010 21:32:20 +0000

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.)