freshman year:
holy mackerel, can you say wasted? horrifying. note the standard anonymous cup of random booze featured prominently in true amateur fashion. i think the most appropriate caption to this would be, "boys! whee! drinkies! whee! having access to wardrobes that don't include smocked empire waists and lace peter pan collars! wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeaghagggppppppfffuugh..."
sophomore year: here i am posing with another dance teamer from my sorority before a football game. i was as pumped up this year as my hair [the broccoli bangs, paired with red lips, are still in effect, but only when dancing]. i was struggling to bring up my abysmal GPA, but hey! i was on the dance team and... not kicked out of my house. goody!
junior year: this was as good as it got. i would leave class to go take step aerobics, then motor my scooter across the river for two hour practices, then run five or six miles, then enjoy a hearty meal of a glass of milk and a red delicious apple with the marlboro girls on the sun porch outside my window at the house. i actually had the clout by then to not have the room with the beds that share the same wall as the toilets. i was so effing fit, i kept getting mistaken for a fieldhockey player. everyone was talking about them then because they were big ten champs or something and also happened to be all hot blonde... lesbians. [pause] at this time, i myself was single and dating loads of guys. life was swell.
senior year: not pictured. i was a prisoner. i was living in an apartment with the mean volleyball-playing blondes, miserably single with acne, and the captains of my dance team who were juniors jointly decided we were not going to nationals so i had given up on dance team as well as working out. i never even went to drown my sorrows in free alcohol i could legally drink at fraternity parties, either. i think i went home every weekend i could get a ride. blahhhh...
oh, the humanity!
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