The first day I pulled into RIT, I realized there was no one on that campus I would choose to fuck over my right hand and a dollop of Astroglide. I put away my unmentionables, went to a party next to my dorm and killed the pain with booze. Rumplemintze (shudder) to be exact. I played pass the bottle with Fezzick from "Princess Bride," and six shots into our game my mind went blank.

I woke up piss drunk in a warm tunnel with no clothes on. There were little blinking lights and soft noises. Thinking I'd been abducted by a UFO or something, I picked my head up and yelled "What th' fuck ish going on herre?"
"Stay still! Don't move!"
"Where are m' clothes?!"
"You're in a CAT scan, just stay still and don't move."
"Okay. But I hafta take a piss REAL BAD!"
"DON'T MOVE!"

I soon realized I couldn't see out of my right eye and there was a lot of blood in my nose and throat. I passed out again, and when I woke there was a hot guy hovering over me cleaning up my piss. This was not the greatest moment of my life

At some point my older sister came in my hospital room to tell me that I was a shit bag idiot. This sounds mean, but she calls me that when I'm sober too so I guess you understand our family dynamic now. She was a blur leaning over me and pointing forcedly "YOU'RE DISGUSTING! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THIS!" Still trashed, all I could think was, "Oh the world is so wonderful - I adore it and all of its bretheren."

I murmured, "I luf you Mar Mar (her nickname). You kish me you bitch."

RIT immediately put me on probation, along with the Freshman Engineering major who drank a bottle of JD, strapped himself between two mattresses and jumped from the balcony of his dorm. The funniest part of that story was that he collapsed a lung on the fall, went back up to his balcony and did it again. He was immediately branded as a dumbass, whereas I had a "dangerous" reputation one day into my college career. Sororities started showing up at my door.

I went to a party at Alpha Xi Delta's house, and low and behold, amongst the sisterhood there were three fuckable men swilling cheap beer. In desperation, I decided to join. I barely noticed that every sister had a weight problem, bad hygiene, and acne because every girl at RIT had a weight problem, bad hygiene, and acne. There was never a more hetero time in my life. My "big" wasn't just big. She was gargantuan.

Being in a sorority wasn't so bad at first. I just went to the meetings and ceremonies and made myself impervious to the voices and noises while I daydreamed about boobies that pointed upward. I've been to many a Catholic mass, so I'm practiced at this. When we were supposed to sing memorized songs, I would just mouth "watermelon, watermelon, watermelon" over and over and it would look like I knew the words. Try it, you'll see.

But then they expected me to have dinner with the sisters. I started skipping these events and I'll tell you why: The menu would be something like "Cheeseburger Lasagna, Cheesy Garlic Bread, Cheesy Mashed Potatoes, and Cheesecake." They would double the meat and cheese in every recipe, and throw in an extra bottle of oil for good measure because scrubbing burned cheese off pans without it is tough.

During this time I got a little hormonally desperate for something other than my good friend 'Rosey Palm.' I went out to a bar for some drinks with my big "Big," a 250 lb. pot-smoking Criminal Sci-major hirsute. She was an angry hog, and if you so much as glanced at a man she had earmarked for sex (blechh) she would eat you alive. I got so drunk I picked up an earmarked man. She went ballistic.

Did you know that fat smelly bitches always side with fat smelly bitches no matter how innocent the intent of the perpetrator? None of the sisters would speak to me. They would throw things at me, scream insults, steal my stuff, bang on my door and threaten me at 6am for making out with a man who had no interest in my big "Big." I had to apply for the RIT equivalent of a restraining order and move out of the house. Right before I did, my roommate got caught cheating on her boyfriend and promptly swallowed a bottle of Tylenol. I must have rushed the worst sorority on earth.

I fervently wrote up the story of my dealings with Alpha Xi Delta. Along with the above contents I mentioned that "despite the size of the inhabitants, every flat surface in the house was littered with a rolled up dollar bill and powdery residue." This account went around the Greek Internet, and people had a field day with it. I didn't think it was all that special, but Greeks are fucking crazy creatures.

I didn't think anything about it until I met a (fat) woman from National two years ago. After initial description, she made a phone call, knew me by name, and told me that I& #146;m not welcome at any of their National events. I wonder if this is true? I would go to one and find out, but I don't think I care enough.