Yesterday I saw a girl. I did a double take, and then I grilled her. I figured that she was wearing a bright orange miniskirt and a blue cutoff halter because she’s a pledge. No one would wear that by choice.

Speaking of, today marks the end of “hell week.” I’m not even pledging and I’ll breathe a sigh of relief. I’m just disgusted by the entire pledging process. It’s uncomfortable.

I’ve seen a large man wearing cutoff shorts and a pink paperboy hat. I’ve seen Tabards cry; we’ve all seen them “lounging” on tarp on College Green. I’ve witnessed a really pretty preppy boy with a box tapped to his back. His task was to carry sandwiches from Gia (metro frat…) and blush all the way home.

A few days ago, SAE pledges were standing on a ledge and screaming a song about “dick sucking.” They yelled in my ear as a friend and I passed by. Please boys, bitch about your life devoid of blowjobs in private. I see you in your ill-fitting blazers, khakis, and loafers, and the last thing I want is your penis near me.

As if Greeks lived on campus and I resided on 43rd and Baltimore, I prefer to remain on the peripherals of Penn pledging. Pledgemasters and pledges alike, retreat from the public eye and return to your respective basements. The spectacle of degradation is obtrusive.

Case in point: I was studying for a midterm with my window open. Some dorky fraternity down the street was dropping eggs on some boy. Every egg that was released broke onto his cellophane-wrapped body to a sea of laughter.

I’d like to focus on my schoolwork please, not your sadistic tendencies.

Tags: lunchboxes, paddles, sadists

This entry was posted on Friday, March 7th, 2008 at 12:23 pm and is filed under Penn. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.