To clarify something I referred to in my last post:
I was not—I repeat, NOT!—in a sorority at Vanderbilt. Do I look that delightful?
Fine. Then divide my current delightfulness by 900, cut that number in half, multiply it by 0.2, put a minus sign in front of it, dye its hair a brittle blondish orange ... and THAT is how delightful I was as a college freshman.BUT I HAD MY PRINCIPLES!
Oh did I have my principles.
If only you could have heard me RANTING and RAVING about the “SYSTEM” and the INJUSTICE and the UNDUE EMPHASIS ON PHYSICAL PERFECTION and the OUTMODED SOCIAL BLAH BLAH BLAH SORORITY WOMEN BLAH BLAH BLAH UNWITTING ACCOMPLICES TO THEIR OWN OBJECTIFICATION OH MY GOD I WAS SUCH AN INSUFFERABLE ASSHOLE.
It’s a miracle I had any friends.So, no. I did not partake of the Greek Life. (Not that it would have necessarily partaken of me either.)
I did, however, do musical theater! LOTS of musical theater. (You might recall the time I was costume director for our Broadway Revue Troupe's production of CATS!
JAZZ HANDS!
Because at some point, you're going to have to sing and clap.We all do.
Speaking of singing and clapping(!), let’s have a round of applause for Patrick O’Brien, bringing down (our) house with his bluegrass-tinged rendition of "John Jacob Jingleheimer Shmip." (His name is Patrick's name, too.)
