What up TFM? It’s me, The DeVry Guy, aka the Frat King, here to once again spread my infinite frat wisdom. I am a man who gets easily excited — not about everything, though; just the things I love. I think people have a hard time understanding that concept sometimes. For instance, I was my pledge class’ glory hole chair. That meant that I was responsible for manning the glory hole in the second floor restroom of the house. I acted like I was a huge fan of it (after all, it’s a great résumé builder), but that was not the case. Because of that appointed position, the older brothers now just ASSUME I’ll jack them off. It’s like yeah, I’ll probably touch your dick, because 1) I’m a great brother and 2) once a glory hole chairman, always a glory hole chairman, but that’s it. Okay, maybe I’ll jack you off, but I won’t use lube. If you’re lucky I might spit on it, but that’s for sure where I draw the line.
Now you’re probably asking yourself, “If fondling the ‘one-eyed monster sitting on a bean bag chair’ of your beloved fraternity brothers doesn’t excite you, what in God’s name does?” Well, I’ll tell you: pledges. I love pledges emotionally, physically, and in concept. Everything about them is great. Pledges are an enigma. They are the worst fucking group of people in the world because they’re fucking pledges, but, then again, they are the best group of people in the world because they have to do whatever the fuck I say. It’s great. What’s not great about pledges, however, is weeding through rushees to get to them.
God, I hate rushees. They’re like pledges, but I can’t threaten to drop them if they don’t kiss me. On the contrary, I can get put on social probation if I say even a WORD about how a bid from us is really just a means of keeping you silent while we inoculate you into our horrible snowball culture of gayzing young men. Which it’s TOTALLY not, if any of you guys are considering rushing my fraternity. Rush KSG (Kony Sucks, Guys) at DeVry, everyone.
Fuck rushees. The only thing worse then having to talk to them is having to listen to them talk. The people you meet during rush can be some of the most annoying people you will ever speak to, but you have to tolerate them. It’s worth it in the end, though. If they actually do suck, you’ll never see them again (except maybe on the composite of one of the bottom-tier houses on campus). If they don’t, you can spend the next semester taking your anger out on them. It’s a win-win in the end.
Here are 4 types of conversationalists you’ll meet during rush.
1. The Brown-Noser
The Brown-Noser thinks you and your brothers are the best fucking things in the world, and he wants you to know it as well. He’ll usually start up by talking about how awesome the house is, how hard he hears you guys throw down, and the tier of your house. If you’re top tier, he’ll say you’re top tier. If you’re middle tier, he’ll say you’re top tier. If you’re bottom tier, he’ll talk about how “up and coming” you guys are (you need to at least respect the fact that he isn’t lying to you). He’ll then ask you a million questions about everything and anything related to your fraternity. It looks like he’s super interested, but just remember: he does this everywhere he goes. All this guy is doing is running train on fraternity row, sucking the dicks of everybody he meets until he gets the bid he so deeply desires. Feel free to bid him, but keep in mind that it’s probably a big charade.
2. The Tag-Along
This guy knows absolutely nothing about Greek life. Hell, he probably doesn’t even know who I am, and I’m the fucking Frat King. Having not really met anybody in college yet except his roommate, he decides to tag along with said roommate to some rush events. Your conversation will start out in one of two ways, depending on how awkward the Tag Along is.
Scenario 1: He’s an awkward dude.
You walk up, tell him how damn glad you are to meet him, reach your hand out, and BOOM — dead fish handshake. You know right then and there that this kid is not getting a bid; he just greeted you with the fucking Catch of the Day. Still, you try to talk to him just because you want to find out just who the hell this guy thinks he is. You ask him the quintessential questions about himself, and then hand the conversation over to him to ask you questions. What does he hit you back with? Nothing. Nada. El zilcho. Why? Because he doesn’t have any questions. This guy doesn’t want to be here, and he shouldn’t be.
Scenario 2: He’s a pretty chill brah.
Firm handshake, has a few pretty good questions about your house and Greek life in general. He is beginning to transition in front of your very eyes from a probable GDI to a potential fraternity gentleman. It’s a beautiful sight, akin to a caterpillar’s metamorphosis into a beautiful butterfly, or when those two chicks downed that heaping pile of doodoo in “2 Girls 1 Cup.”
3. The “Y’know?” Guy
We’ve all had that professor who says “okay?” at the end of almost every sentence during lecture. You never noticed, your subconscious having tuned it out, but after one of your buddies pointed it out, you could never stop noticing it every single time. It’s terrible, isn’t it? It distracts me even further from the lecture that I was barely paying any attention to in the first place. Well, the “Y’Know?” Guy is the rushee version of that. He’s talking to you, and he’s normal enough, but after every fucking sentence he drops a superfluous “y’know?” It may seem harmless at first; you might not even have noticed it. But again, when somebody points it out, it’s all you’ll be able to hear. I’d recommend bidding this guy just so you can march his ass down to the hazement to tell him, whilst paddling him, that yes, you do in fact fucking know.
4. The Try-Hard
The Try-Hard is pretty much just a Brown-Noser, but instead of showering you in praise, he is doing it to himself. He thinks that you guys actually want him to be in your fraternity, and that he holds the bargaining chip in the rushee-fraternity relationship. He only asks questions about how hard you guys fucking rage, and, if you don’t respond in an over-the-top fashion, he merely says “I see.” He’ll be easy to spot, decked out in his FaFsuit composed of any number of pastel-colored polos, Sperrys, and homemade Southern South 0″ inseam shorts. All this dude wants is to frat. While I can’t blame him for that, I still fucking do.
So, there you have it. Now if that’s all you guys need from me today, my services have been requested in the second floor restroom.
It’s a TFM.