Theft on Old Fraternity Row

Greek sororities and fraternities at my particular university love to take place in a never ending battle of Steal the Composite.

Groups of particular chapters will drunkenly find ways to passively break into each others houses, steal the most recent composite, and hide it for ransom back at their own house.

Being an enthusiastic member of my own sorority, for the longest time freshmen year I always wanted to participate in one of these raids.  I didn't care what fraternity it was, the thrill of stealing a composite sounded like more of an adrenaline rush than kayaking down a class 4 rapid.

One night my friends and I had just finished pregaming in the dorms and we were on our way out for the night when we found ourselves approaching Old Fraternity Row.  My friend noticed an acquaintance of hers on the balcony of the first house on the row.  We stopped to talk when I noticed inside hanging above the large fireplace in the living room, a flag with their crest on it.  Their flag was about as precious to them as their composites, if not more.  I even had heard a rumor once that it was part of their ritual.

Then I had a brilliant idea.

"I'm thiirrrrsty," I whined to the boy my friend was talking to.  "May I please have a glass of water?"

"Sure," the guy said, and led me into the house.  He told me to wait in the living room.

Perfect.

As soon as he entered the kitchen and the door swung shut behind him, I ran to the fireplace, grabbed the flag and yanked it down.  Before it was fully fluttered down from its nearly ceiling high hooks, I made a mad dash for the door.  I emerged onto the balcony where my friends were still waiting, flag in hand.  I held it high above my head.

"I STOLE THE FLAG!" I declared.  "WHERE DO I PUT IT?!"

My friends stared at me in disbelief.  They could barely formulate words when I decided to put it in my big sis's room at the sorority house.  Without much second thought, I turned toward the main road and began running for sorority row.

Funny thing was, we were on our way to a "rep your prep" party, so I was dressed my best in a pleaded skirt, polo shirt with popped collar and a pearl necklace.  I had been wearing heals, but in the midsts of pregaming changed into flip flops.

I probably looked ridiculous running down the road with the flag tucked away in my arms, waddling from the lack of supportive shoes and my drunkenness.  But it was all ok.  I had the flag.

A couple days later, the fraternity's president called my sorority's president asking for the flag back, and every boy in that fraternity whom I was friends with called me asking for it back.

They all knew I stole it.

how I ended up drunk in a fraternity house kitchen, then in a cop car when I was 19.

It was a typical night at the Border freshman year.  The Border is the notorious underage bar that is constantly being raided by the DPD (Denver Police Department) for 19-year-olds with fake IDs, such as ourselves.  But that never stopped us from taking advantage of their limitless supply of cheap booze and good times.

Last call came at about 1:30am, as usual, and we drunkenly stumbled out the front doors and started socializing in the parking lot with all the frat boys (eh-hem, fraternity men), whom we had been recently drinking with.  This one senior from a particularly fratty fraternity (like 7 popped collars fratty), Bob*, invited me and two of my sorority sisters back to the fraternity house for post-bar drunchies.  Being the enthusiastic-about-everything-Greek-Life-including-drunkenly-raiding-the-frat-house-kitchens-Freshmen that we were, we excitedly accepted the offer.

We followed Bob the two blocks back to his respective fraternity house and he showed us the kitchen.  The fridge was filled with all sorts of delicious food: nacho ingredients, tortillas, leftover pizza, bagel bites, and many other glorious drunchies that made my stomach growl with happiness.

Being the great drunk chefs we were, we created nacho tacos by piling tortilla chips and cheese on a tortilla and microwaving it until the cheese was about 1/4 melted.  I think if I had been sober, they wouldn't have been that great, but after the ample amounts of alcohol I had with my pathetically low 19-year-old tolerance, it was the best thing that could have ever graced my presence that night.

After devouring the nacho tacos and socializing for what could have been minutes or hours (I wouldn't know), one of my friends wandered upstairs to make regrettable decisions and the other friend I was with left with some other guy, leaving me alone with Bob.

Now Bob is a nice guy, when other people are around.  But when you are female and you are trapped alone with him in a room, particularly drunk in the middle of the night, he gets little creepy.  He continued our conversation, slowly inching toward me with that maliciously creepy look in his eye, and I tried to smile and act normal while desperately trying to find a way out.

"I'm tired," I finally declared.  "Can I sleep on your sofa?"

I know, I know...Asking to sleep at the fraternity house where he resides is probably not the best way to get out of being creeped on, but like you've probably inferred already, I was a very stupid freshman.

He brought me a sleeping bag and offered me the living room sofa, which I cuddled up on by tucking in my limbs to make my body into an uninviting, unsexy ball and pretending to snore very loudly.

Of course Bob came and tried to lie down next to me.  But he was kind of a big guy and nearly pushed me off the sofa, causing my limbs to spread out to catch my balance.  He rested a large, heavy arm around me, trapping me on the sofa and crushing my ribs from the side.

I don't know how I finally got rid of him.  I think he got up to go to the bathroom, but either way, I made a mad dash for the door as soon as I got the chance.

I was about two blocks away from the house, wandering toward my freshman dorm, when a cop car pulls up next to me.

"What are you doing out by yourself at this hour?!" the cop yelled.  Terrified, I looked around and realized the entire area was deserted.  And I was wearing a sort-of short dress, so I probably looked like an easy target.  And obviously I was sexy so everyone would have totally wanted me anyway.  Just kidding about the sexy part.

"I'll give you a ride," the cop offered.

It was 3:15am at this point, and I was still 6-7 blocks from my dorm, so I happily accepted and got in the front seat.

I didn't bother buckling my seatbelt, but regretted that immediately as he started driving.  He went about 60mph in a 30mph zone, taking turns very sharply.  The first turn onto the main street, I slid across the smooth, leather seat and nearly crashed into him, stopping myself just in the nick of time.

The entire 3 minute ride, the cop told me about how dangerous the campus could be, and girls shouldn't be walking around by themselves at night because we can get gang banged and murdered and tortured and kidnapped and traded into the sex trade and never see our friends or our precious sorority sisters ever again, let alone spend another night at the Border (GASP!)

He dropped me off at the dorms.  As soon as he took off, I barfed in a trash can.

I'm not sure if it was caused by the ample amounts of alcohol, the taco nachos, or his crazy, psychotic driving.

Moral of the Story: If a frat boy named Bob offers you drunchies from the fraternity's kitchen after last call at the Border, just say no.


*Bob isn't his real name.  I'm too nice.

Getting Sloshy

Yesterday, my sorority had an unofficial exchange with one of the fraternities on campus. (Technically, I can't say unofficial exchange because there's nothing unofficial, and sorority doesn't like things that involve heavy amounts of alcohol.  And the exchange was themed "Slosh Ball," so clearly it couldn't happen without at least one keg).

Anyway.

It was Slosh Ball themed.  Slosh Ball is an exciting sport in which you play kickball with one of those oversized workout balls and a keg.  When you are kicking, you must start with a full beer and it must be completely finished by the time you round home, otherwise the point doesn't count (dumping it out does NOT count as finishing it).  When you're playing the outfield, you must have a beer in hand at all time, even when catching the ball, throwing the ball, taking someone out, pitching, etc.

When Slosh Ball happens, there are always a plethora of funny moments.  Particularly because I have mad skillz and its hard for people to keep up with me.

I pitched for a vast majority of the game.  I had to fight with my friend Zach for the position a bit, but I always win so it obviously worked out in my favor.  Pitching a ball of that size with a beer in your hand is very difficult.  I tried biting my solo cup between my teeth while using both hands, but usually couldn't get the ball rolling fast enough.  Sometimes it would stop halfway to the kicker.

I tried doing it with one hand, but often it would go about 30 feet to the left or right of the kicker, and people made fun of me for not being able to aim.  I blamed that on my blatent intoxication.

The best moments happen when everybody gets very drunk.  Which, when you begin drinking at 1pm while still nursing a hangover from the night before and no breakfast, this happens pretty quickly.  Such as watching a girl in my sorority eat it on the ball, or getting beer in another sisters hair when she was running into first.  Or basically watching the debauchery that is the stereotype of Greek Life happen before my eyes.

Things got a little blurry by 4:20, when the game basically ended so we could do what we do every day at 4:20.

It was a fun day.

Remember that one MySpace survey? Yep.

Disclaimer: I don't actually use Myspace anymore, really.  Only to listen to music of bands that I like.  I swear I am cool.

Name: Adrienne

Birthday: November 3rd, 1988

Birthplace: Eden Prarie, Minnesota

Current Location: I migrate between Plymouth, Minnesota and Denver, Colorado (I like Denver better)

Eye Color: Green

Hair Color: I die my hair WAY too often to answer this question legitimately. (In other words, I don't know my natural hair color anymore...)

Height: Right around 5'10

Left Handed or Right Handed: Right handed

Your Heritage: I'm mostly Irish, at like 80% (explains why my tolerance for alcohol is so high), but then I am also very Scottish as well.  I've actually seen pictures of my great-great-great-great... Grandfather at my Aunt's house in Florida from before he left Scotland wearing a real legitimate kilt and everything.  I'm also a bit Italian (my last name), German and British.

Shoes you wore today: I own like 293702701 pairs of shoes so I change them frequently.  Besides this question would be outdated tomorrow anyway.

Your Weakness: I refuse to answer this question.

Your Fears: Again, TMI.

Your Perfect Pizza: I love pizza too much to answer this question.

Goal you would like to achieve this year: Stop being a skank and start acting appropriate.  And stop smoking pot.  But I don't think either of those will happen.

Most overused phrase on Instant messenger: I like taking lines from TFLN and sending them to my friends as my own.

First Thoughts Waking Up: Snoooooze button!!!!!!

Your best physical feature: I'm too neurotic to pick just one.

Your Bedtime:  When I feel like it.

Your Most Missed Memory: You can't miss a memory, dumbass.

Pepsi or Coke: I can't taste the difference.  And I think people who have a preference are tools.  Well, if they have a preference but will drink the other if it's what's available without complaints, then fine.  But when someone only drinks Coke but refuses to ever touch a Pepsi product, then they are a tool.  Hands down.

McDonalds or Burger King: Don't make me choose...

Single or Group Dates: Who cares, as long as you get laid afterwards.

Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea: I don't even drink these enough to know if there exists a difference.

Chocolate or Vanilla: Again, don't make me choose!

Cappuccino or Coffee: As long as there is caffeine in it, then I like it all.

Do you smoke?: Never have I ever...

Do you swear?: Fuck (<-- that was me swearing)

Do you sing?: Until people tell me to shut up

Do you shower daily?: I'm too lazy.

Have you ever been in love?: What is love....... baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more! (You can't see it, but I am twitching my head just like Will Farrell in a Night at the Roxbury, which, if you haven't seen, stop reading this blog and go watch it now.  It made that song famous.  Also it has Will Farrell which automatically makes it good).

Do you want to go to college?: I am almost done with college :(

Do you want to get married?: I want to elope.  In Vegas.

Do you believe in yourself? What kind of a dumb question is that?

Do you get motion sickness?: Quite often, actually.

Do you think you are attractive?: I am sexay.

Are you a health freak?: I am in college.  Sometimes, one must choose.

Do you get along with your parents?: Again, dumb question.

Do you like thunderstorms?: I  have a phobia of severe weather.  So, no.

Do you play an instrument?: I pretend I can rock, but in reality, not that well.

In the past month, have you drank alcohol?: I don't drink.

In the past month, have you smoked?: I don't smoke.  Anything.

In the past month, have you been on drugs?: I don't do drugs.  And even if I did, why would I answer that question on the internet?  That's called self-incrimination.  As if I don't do that enough already without having to answer dumb questions like this.

In the past month, have you gone on a date?: Does getting laid count?

In the past month, have you been in a mall?: I have actually.  And I'm going to one again in like an hour, so this answer will be good for at least another month.

In the past month, have you eaten a box of Oreos?: I wish...

In the past month, have you eaten Sushi?: Perhaps.  I'll say most likely because I eat sushi a lot, but these "in the past month" questions are really going to get outdated soon.

In the past month, have you been on a stage?: Does a jury box count?  I swear that defendant was staring me down the whole time...

In the past month, have you been dumped?: I have not, thankfully.

In the past month, have you gone skinny dipping?: I wish, I love skinny dipping.

In the past month, have you stolen anything?: Your heart, baby.

Ever been Drunk?: Absolutely not.  Don't ask me such offensive questions.

Ever been called a tease?: Tee hee

Ever been Beaten up?: Not as of now, but I'm sure someone out there wants to punch me in the face.

Ever shoplifted?: No, officer.

How do you want to die?: I don't want to die.  Ever.

What do you want to be when you grow up?: Superwoman

What country would you most like to visit?: Every country in the world.

In a boy/girl...

Favorite Eye Color: Changes by the weekend;)  Ok, that was a JOKE.

Favorite Hair Color: I guess it depends on the person.  I mean, a black guy with blond hair would be super weird, but I've seen black guys I dig and I've seen blond guys I dig.

Short or Long hair: Short.  Unless it is long.

Height: Taller than I am preferably.  

Weight: Heavier than I am.

Best Clothing Style: I don't like to date guys who dress better than I do.

Number of drugs I've taken: 2397840327402978

Number of CDs I own: Who the fuck listens to CDs anymore?

Number of piercings: 9 total

Number of tattoos: 1 now, but I plan to get 11-12 more

Number of things in my past I regret: I just try to live for the moment.