10. Frat-Mart: Your wardrobe makes the transition from Hollister and American Eagle, to food-stained, ripped, wrinkled, khaki pants, along with dollar-store polo’s and worn-out boat shoes. Doing laundry? Fuck no— there’s no time. Your outfit is thrown on and off countless times no matter how wet or rank. For the time being, the Salvation Army and cheapest Wal-Mart clearance items serve as your newest mall hangout. It takes a solid 12 weeks of hell to transition into the beloved Sperry’s, Polos, Guy Harvey, Costas, Chino’s and a visor. Even then, a few years is needed to truly develop a wardrobe of frat perfection.
9. Anti-bromance: If you’ve ever spent a lengthy vacation with a buddy or two, you know how it goes. The guys you’ve loved for years can become major jackasses, and it doesn’t take long for you to want to rip their heads off. Here comes pledging, the age-old vacation of first-year college boys. Whether stuck with 30 post-pubescent, horny, testosterone junkies in the fall, or a smaller 15 cocky, egotistical alcoholics in the spring, there comes a point when you hit the wall. After 12 weeks with the same group of guys, you fucking hate them. Unity is stressed all throughout pledgeship; you want take unity and shove it up your pledge brother’s ass.
8. Cock-Blocked: Your ideal slampiece walks across the room. You grab two drinks, and work your way through the crowd to make a move. The good old days— hitting on the sorostitutes with a drink in-hand. Problem? Pledgeship: cock-block central. Where should I start? How about your sexy outfit. Nothing screams PLEDGE more than stained khaki pants with a tucked in polo. Don’t forget about the ultimate accessory: a symbolic pin on your heart symbolizes your status as a bitch. Next problem: You can’t drink, you’re driving tonight. Pledge rides: the greatest invention known to frats. Last (and largest) problem: No matter how close you are to closing that ideal, drunk blonde– a brother won’t hesitate to jump on in. It doesn’t take much: a mere look of hatred, or a text that reads “fuck off she’s mine”. A brother has first rights on all women, and a pledge would get his shit rocked for even attempting the sloppy-seconds. As a pledge, cock-blocking is just another form of hazing. But hey, it’s not hazing—it’s brotherhood.
7. Frat-Style ROTC: If there’s one slight upside to the hazing lifestyle, it’s the fact that your body just might look slightly better when all is said and done. Just like any workout session, pain is involved. Push-ups, sit-ups, sprints, squats, pull-ups, wall-sits: the list goes on and on. Each hazing exercise is made unique to each fraternity. Recite the alphabet while you sit against the wall, do pushups in the shape of an A (Alpha), or form your body in the shape of a Z (Zeta) when you do pull-ups. They’re gay as shit, but they make brothers feel oh so special. They pat themselves on the back for creating a new hazing technique. It’s an art of frat-passion. Hazing in the form of calisthenics might be the most common form of hazing. It’s not the roughest thing, but it’s an everyday occurrence. You’re a little army bitch, except unlike ROTC, your drill sergeants are beer-bellied assholes who have nothing better to do in their life except fuck with pledges.
6. Not-so-golden Corral: You’re always fucking hungry. If you’ve developed a classy beer belly in high school, you can kiss it goodbye. Pledges are thrown the scraps of dinner, almost no time to eat on their own, and literally starved during hell week. Yes— pledges are always fucking hungry. The meal of choice is fast-food, ideally Taco Bell and McDonalds. Now this isn’t a bad thing, but if you’ve ever seen the documentary SuperSize Me, you know how fucking disgusting McDonalds is after eating it the fifth time in one week. Either way, the development of a solid beer belly must come after pledgeship, unfortunately. Most pledges drop a few pounds– very un-frat-tastic.
Top-5 Coming Soon.
It’s not hazing. It’s brotherhood.