Bid Day: A Series of Unfortunate Events

Bid Day.

Unless you lived under a rock in college you know what Bid Day is... for those who did live under a rock here's an explanation:

Bid day is when fraternities and sororities formally extend new members an offer (a bid) to join their organization. It sounds like a formal process, but like most formal processes in college, it is followed by a day long shit show of keg stands, ice luges, and the inevitable walk of shame the next morning. If there was ever a need for two parties in one day, it would be bid day.

Enter Pi Kappa Phi.

It was high noon. You'd think that noon would be too early in the day to start drinking... yeah, you'd be wrong. Kegs, full liquor bar, jello shots, and an ice luge. What's an ice luge you ask? Oh... just a huge chunk of ice that you put your face on while someone pours liquor on it and it dribbles down into your mouth... essentially the least sanitary thing you could do besides directly making out with every person at the party (...but the liquor kills the germs right?? of course!! (please see our soon to be released: "College Lies and Other Shit Guys Say to Get You Drunk.")).

Admittedly I had been hooking up with one of the fraternity brothers on the reg. We will call him Luke... I would later go on to date this brother's best friend for two years, but that's another story for another day. (I can feel you judging my sluttiness as you read). ANYWAYS... I was there to see him, did a couple luges... jello shots... a liquor drink so strong that it could peel paint off the walls. Within 30 minutes of walking into this event I was ready to get back to his apartment. Strong alcoholic drinks + college girl= Every frat guys dream…but apparently, I would have to wait another 11 hours before making a formal exit and heading back to his place.

Let's fast forward to party #2: TOGA TOGA TOGA (which brings to mind every cliché and stereotype you can think of about fraternities) It’s 10pm and I’m in the sexiest toga I could create in a trip to Wal-Mart. Suitors beware, I had about 150 safety pins holding this shit together... any wrong move and you were going to wind up an acupuncture patient. But damn did I look good, so it didn’t matter. Do you know how difficult it is to secure something like that AFTER you've been drinking for 10 hours? I deserved a fucking medal. So I roll up to the Pi Kapp house with my bestie Sarah... girls never go to these things alone. Buddy system is a MUST(you’ve seen the Lifetime movie).

I walk in... scan the crowd…WTF??? Where is Luke? I’m obviously only here to see him and I’m not quite slutty enough to just pick up another brother for the night. Side Note: Little known fact is that fraternity brothers compare notes at weekly chapter meetings. You do NOT want to be the girl whose name comes up twice in a meeting. It either lends itself to a fist fight or brotherly bonding (usually the latter), neither of which is good for you. So Luke's not here... What to do...What. To. Do? Survey says! Drink until you dance like a damn fool on the coffee table? Sure! OKAY.

Enter Luke.

Oh heyyy Luke. Mmmmm…my slurs sound so sexy when I am throwing myself at someone while half dressed in a frat house. Let me stick my tongue in your mouth while everyone in the party watches (Yep…I really was That Girl that you’ve seen before). There are few times that someone at a frat party actually says "Get a room" and this was one of them. I don't need to be told twice.

"Luke, let's go back to your house."

Frat guys also don't need to be told twice when there is the possibility of a hook up in their future. If I only knew what was coming (or what [read: who] wouldn’t be coming..you catch my drift?) and how much of a mistake it would be for me to leave this party.

We get to Luke's apartment... he takes my toga off without injury, a true miracle, and we are hard core making out in his bed. So, I know I talk a slutty game... but there are few times I have been naked in man's bed who wasn't my boyfriend (Side Note: I'm afraid future blog posts will prove this to be a false statement... FUCK). So I am totally into it... Luke’s a good looking guy, great kisser... This is hot. I am turned on. He starts to go down on me…Ladies, I don't believe I have ever had a switch turned off so freaking fast. What was he doing down there???? Whatever it was…it wasn't good. So I fake it to get the horrible experience over with.

“Umm... Luke, Sir... I "finished" get your face off of me.” This was the conversation that was happening in my mind. Yet, he continues the atrocity below my Mason-Dixon Line. I fake it again... no response. I then cannot take it anymore and physically remove his face... Holding out hope that things would improve, I choose not to get up and leave at this point (Read: Mistake). So we continue to make out... he is currently on top and is apparently dissatisfied with this positioning so he rolls me over to be on top of him.

Dear Luke, I am so glad that you know your bed well enough to know that there was plenty of room for us to roll over. WRONG. He rolls me; I am thrown off the bed and into his closet door. He falls with me, and of course the closet door breaks off and falls on top of us. Let’s not forget we are both stark naked. This is just too much. We get up, I ask for some clothes to head home and run as fast as I can out his door. Literally, I run down the main road in our city towards my dorm in guys clothes, clutching what was formerly my toga, but is now a heap of safety pins on a sheet. There was no mystery of what I was doing, and there were plenty of people around to speculate as it was only midnight on a Saturday.

I of course have no keys... thankfully I had my cell phone so I called The Other Girl, who I lived with at the time, and she came downstairs to let me in. She walks up... "That girl, uh what happened?!"

The only words... "I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT."

Oh and by the way... "Where are my shoes?"

My Memory is a Little Hazy

Have you ever had those nights where you go, “F*#k this, let’s see what happens!” I don’t have them that often, but when they happen…watch out single, semi-attractive men out for a fun night! You know there’s one in every crowd. Don’t deny it, it may be you. I’m not ashamed, and you shouldn’t be either! Embrace your inner make-out whore! Who cares if you can’t remember what they looked like or even their names! That’s not a requirement!!

Since I’m living in the real world and am at the age where I look down my nose at young drunk college girls, I reserve the “Let’s act like we’re freshman again” night for once every few months. My last night like this was in November, so apparently I was due. A few weeks ago, a girlfriend and I planned a Saturday night of sushi and drinks. I began the evening thinking this was going to be a classy night. Eat some sushi, and then enjoy a few glasses of wine at a nice bar, where the mature adults go.

Welp….Not. So. Much.

Dinner, then 3 bars later is where the fun began. Let me state that I’m not even a fan of bar hopping in one night out. I prefer to stay at one place and have a good time. Apparently, in my “mature adult” stage, I’ve changed my opinion…Let’s also mention the alcohol that is being consumed. I’m a beer or wine drinker. I only drink liquor if it’s tequila and normally it’s got to be in a margarita (that should say something LOL). This evening, I decided to change it up. Let’s have some beer, some wine, oh and why the hell not? Some liquor (drinks and shots). So at bar #3 I announce, from my perch on my bar stool where I’m chair dancing, “I wanna DANCEEEEE!” Umm…okayyy.

Enter ladies to bar #4…this bar never fails to have a great band to dance to (aka…grind your ass on some rando guy). So an awesome rap band was playing and my friend and I were, of course, front row center getting our inner black girls on. Enter guy number 1…yep that’s right number 1. We’re dancing, having a good time; so of course, I think “Hey, he’s cute enough! Let’s make out!” So…we did. Guy 1 started to annoy me in my drunkenness and I sent him on his merry way. Blessings on the next girl to get with him!

The hunt for a new dance partner begins.

“Why helloooo fella number 2! You look like you’ll do!!”

We danced, and let’s be honest, my memory’s a little hazy, but apparently as a thanks-for-dancing gift, I decide to bestow him with my kisses. You’re welcome! Obviously the night ended like any good night during your freshman year-Taco Bell at 2:30 AM.

So to sum up…2 guys…same bar…same night. Obviously pretty low on the shame-o-meter, but I don’t think I’ve done that before! I can’t say it was on my bucket list, but it was pretty damn fun!

Best Friend Disclaimer:

For the record, the last paragraph in this post is a bold faced lie (Sorry Ma’am, I love you, but I can’t subject our readers to such an injustice). Homegirl has made out with multiple men in a night… more than one, perhaps less than five. Would we really have a blog like this if our most risqué story was about how we kissed more than one guy in a night? NOPE! The process of contributing to this blog is going to test our “shame-o-meter” as you say… it’s time we embrace, for the sake of our readers, just how low we’ve stooped, how naked we’ve got, and how fast we’ve run out of a frat house at 7:30am on Sunday morning.

Greetings from Where are my shoes?

"Where did this bruise come from?"

"I drank WAAYYY too much last night."

"Wait, I did what?"

"Umm... why are you in my bed?"

"WHERE ARE MY SHOES????"

Where are my shoes: a blog chronicling the stories you wish you didn't remember. The nights so embarrassing that all you can do is laugh it off, because life is too short, your flask is too small, and conscious or not, you'll find someone to make out with shamelessly on the dance floor. Join us on our walk -of shame- down memory lane...

Let us know if you have a story to share. We would love to post it here on our blog!