By contributing writer James Pearson

It seems like every time I open a newspaper, load up Points in Case, or jack off, all I see is anti-Greek sentiment. It’s everywhere, including my porn sites (don’t ask what I’m beating off to, you don’t even wanna know). Seeing as I’m Greek, I should take offense to this, but I don’t, because it’s pretty much all true. Mainly, I just feel sad for you sorry fucks who didn’t go Greek… but we’re not discussing philosophy here.

I’ve decided to help you non-Greeks out and let you see how great it is to be one of us by taking you through a simple day. Since football is blowing up right now, we’ll start with a tailgate.

10 AM: My senses are assaulted by the sound of a fucking air horn. Dear God, where am I? I’m laying on the floor of a room I don’t immediately recognize. I open my crust filled eyes to a room that seems strange. Am I in the right fucking house? I look around slowly, my head reeling from the night before. There’s a used condom on the floor, right next to a thong. I look up and see Brad Pitt holding a bar of soap from Fight Club. Okay, it’s my room. I don’t remember the condom, but it’s a magnum, so it’s mine. I guess some bitch is walking around with no underwear. Good luck fellas.

Even fraternity alumni know the difference between a beer and a shot.

10:15 AM: I’m in the shower at my fraternity house. I can almost feel the booze from last night draining out of my pours. Jesus I hope no alumni are here, I’m in no condition to suck any cocks right now. If those pledges don’t have about 100 beers on ice when I get down there, I swear by Zeus, blood will spill. I get out of the shower and start walking to my room. Some random chick walks up the stairs and starts staring at me.

“Want a closer look?” I ask.

She doesn’t like that so much. She walks down the stairs disgusted. Looks like the chapter president will be giving me a call in a few minutes. Fuck it, my head still hurts too bad to care.

11 AM: I’m downstairs on my front porch, 7 beers deep. Some may think this is steep in 45 minutes, and to these people: that is why you will never belong in a fraternity. Drinking is one of the most, if not the most, important thing to us. We take it seriously.

There are bitches on the front lawn in sweet, sweet dresses, beer is flowing like wine, and no alumni are here yet.

The reason I hate alumni is pretty simple: I don’t like sucking cock. Never have, never will. Alumni, however, LOVE having their dicks sucked. They want to be asked what it was like in their day, how rich they are, how many bitches they used to get, etc. They’re much like your dad when he tells you how badass he was at high school football. It’s not that you don’t believe him (okay, you probably don’t believe him), it’s just that you’d rather have the hairs on your testicles pulled out one by one than hear about some old has-been and something he did in 1972. Bush wants terrorists to talk? Send him some of my alumni. Those poor towel heads will be crying anything he wants to know in a matter of hours.

12:30 PM: Alumni arrive. I’m plastered. I’ve lost count of how many beers, but I know I haven’t had enough. Dutiful pledges keep refilling my glass, my eyes are glazed, and I’m sitting on the porch yelling obscenities at teams I hate. I have a better chance of an alumni mistaking me for a fucking polar bear than thinking I’m sober. One of my brothers sits next to me.

“James, man, you want to calm down just a bit? Seriously, the alumni’s kids are getting scared. I think one said he wants to go home. Do you want us to get any money or not man?”

“You sonofabitch.”

It’s not that I don’t feel like arguing, it’s just that the booze has affected my brain so badly that all I can do is slur out

something like that. Fuck him, give me another beer.

2:00 PM: The game has started and most people have made their way to the stadium. I decided long before this point that the only way I was making it to the stadium was if I was hoisted on the shoulders of pledges and carried there while other pledges fanned me and fed me grapes. I thought this was a great idea, but the president of the fraternity thought it might be bad for our “public image.” Fuck him. I really only have one choice now anyway, and that is to pass the fuck out. If I keep going at this pace, I’m going to be dead by 3 PM.

Out of nowhere my girlfriend walks up and sits on my lap. She leans in.

“Let me suck your dick.”

Make that two choices.

2:30 PM: Passed the fuck out.

5:30 PM: I wake up, feeling like a new man. I tell you what, there isn’t much that can top releasing your little soldiers down some chick’s throat and then taking a nap. I need one thing though.

“Joseph! Get your ass in here!” I scream at the top of my lungs. The pledge comes running in. “Beer now, and don’t bring me that shitty stuff. If it’s not Corona don’t bring it, and go home.”

Joseph turns around and begins walking out.

“Don’t you dare forget the fucking lime…. Thanks.”

Who says we don’t treat them with respect?

9 PM: Once again, I’m officially lit the fuck up. Seeing a pattern here? There are sorostitutes everywhere at this point. Now, for the most part, sorority chicks are whores. Okay, my bad, cross out sorority and that sentence would be correct. From what I’ve seen, sorority chicks are crazy whores. I’ll probably end up writing extensively on this, but I just wanted to warn all you young men out there. Talk to ‘em, flirt with ‘em, hell you can even fuck ‘em. Just don’t dare try and get together with one of ‘em. Anyway, at this point all I want to do is hit the bar scene.

10 PM: Bars are packed. Hoes are everywhere. All my boys and I are fucked up. I lean into Sam.

“Let’s dance with some chicks man.” Sam is pretty drunk, but not that drunk. He looks at me like I’m out of my mind.

“Dude, do you not realize I’m holding you up right now?”

I slowly understand what he’s saying and see that I’m not leaning into Sam like a pimp, I’m draped across his shoulder like a drunken prom queen. Damn.

“You shut the fuck up Sam! I’m fine.”

“I don’t even know what you just said man. Go over there and sit the fuck down.”

He leads me to some couches in the back of the bar. I scream out something about hating all of my friends and that they’re all pussies and don’t know how to drink. At this point I think I actually fell asleep in the bar. Do you realize how drunk you have to be to fall asleep in a college bar? Nothing but Jager bombs, blaring music, booming bass, drunk obnoxious people buzzing all around, guys grinding their denim dicks up on chicks, beer spillage left and right, and then me, sitting there drooling on myself. God bless beer.

12:30 AM: I’m tossed into the back of a truck. I wake up slightly, enough to see this chick sitting in the back of the truck looking at me. I sit up and smile.

“Whatcha lookin’ at baby?” I say this sexily.

“The throwup on your shirt.”

“Fuck you.”

I fall back asleep.

Congratulations, you people can pretty much apply this to any frat guy out there on any given Saturday, at basically any given college around the country. Now I have only one question for you: what’s not to love?