Now, I’m just your simple, average dude. I put my mother’s panties on one leg at a time, just like the rest of you. You guys do that too, right? I mean, not like, always, or anything… That’d be weird. Just on special occasions, like when you’re feeling ugly or your new girlfriend tells you she’s breaking up with you because, “who even are you? Get away from my car.”
Although I’m usually superty-duperty frat (a state of being that I’ve dubbed “way frat”), I am not perfect. I am not some perpetual frat device, effortlessly emitting TFM energy at all hours of the day. There are facts about myself, as well as about many of the other writers, that will make you question whether or not we are worthy of writing for the frat and srat bibles that are TFM and TSM. Don’t worry, though: we are all still frat/sratstars; we just need a little work. In the end, though, don’t we all?
Without further ado, here are the NF and NS confessions of nine members of the writing team.
Me (The DeVry Guy):
I have not seen the entirety of the movie Animal House.
After being served an ultimatum by my fraternity brethren to either watch it or face some mano-a-mano time with our 4-story buttchug bong that we’ve nicknamed “The Poopinator,” I opted for Animal House. I fell asleep about halfway through, however (out of lack of sleep at the time, not boredom), and have still not finished it. I promise to finish it before I intern at TFM Headquarters in Austin this summer, though, because I want to at least appreciate the Animal House-inspired hazing that Dorn is sure to rain down on me upon my arrival.
It’s been a few years now, but back in high school I was a performing arts geek.
I did it all, band, theater and chorus. I even sang for the jazz band when we did jazz pieces with vocal portions. Now, I also played a few sports outside of school, mostly baseball, but primarily I was a performing arts geek, to the point that I defended marching band as a “sport” until the day I graduated. High school me was incredibly NF, the longhaired, My Chemical Romance-loving little bastard.
I’m a Harry Potter fan.
Listen, those books were damn good, I don’t care what anyone says. The later movies were too, and Hermione is a total babe. Sure, they’re fantasy books, take place in England, and have led to college kids nation-wide “playing” Quidditch, but I liked fantasy before Game of Thrones made it cool. Think of all the shit you could get into with an invisibility cloak, amirite?
I am in no way housewife material.
Like a true American, I export all of my domestic duties and spend the majority of my time watching ESPN. While I may not be able to cook dinner or mop a floor, I could easily go toe-to-toe with Skip Bayless and make him cry using only my words.
Judge me, but I have a small anchor tattoo on the side of my hip.
It has a special meaning for me and I love it. It may or may not be my sorority’s symbol, and even if it was, I got the tattoo before I joined my sorority, so suck it. It’s in a perfect place where I don’t see it everyday, so I’m not sick of it. I got it in a place called “Little Vinnie’s” that was in between a liquor store and an H&R Block in a strip mall. The tattoo artist who did it specialized in manga tattoos and dark cartoon characters. That was weird, but really the only reason I didn’t like him was because he made fun of me for almost passing out halfway through after I realized this was going to be on my body forever. I might be getting another one too, bitches.
I am a male cheerleader.
It’s probably the least frat thing about me, but my reasons for joining were pure. I was lifting weights and two women in spandex and sports bras ran up to me and told me that they really needed my help out in the basketball courts. I followed them thinking that something heavy had fallen on top of somebody and that they needed my herculean strength to free them, where after I rescued the damsel I would ravage them all like Conan the Barbarian. When I got there, they were having cheer practice. Tits and ass drew me in. I have stayed because I’m not one to quit things, and grabbing hot cheerleader booty is something that I enjoy.
I hate college bars.
They are my personal hell. The putrid, filthy, dingy, dark cesspools lost any allure for me after the initial obligatory rounds freshman year when you’re still trying desperately to fit in. I genuinely cannot find pleasure in barely being able to move through a sea of sweaty bodies, most of whom you do not care to ever be in that close of contact with. While I love walking into a place and knowing everyone, there’s no fun in having to yell at each other to be heard over the blaring Top 40 DJ. As much as I enjoy a good dance floor makeout, people seem to take it to the next level at these venues. I’m pretty sure I’ve witnessed full penetration during Usher’s “Scream.” No thanks; I’ll stick to the NF bars with live music, seating, clean floors, a wide selection of craft beers and cocktails, and rich older men.
I’m a Liberal.
I know I’ve already disappointed the dozen of you who read my columns, but unfortunately it’s true. It wasn’t even my choice; I was born and raised Jewish, and being a Democrat is one of our Ten Commandments (right after having no other gods before Jon Stewart). I’m not going to spend this time justifying my beliefs, because political arguments always seem to end in people hitting me over the head with chairs (or simply with old movie stars talking to them). However, I will say that we spend way too much time focusing on the minutia that pull us apart rather than all that brings us together. For example, there is nothing both political parties agree on more than a hatred of politics. I offer you all the Jewish holiday spirit of self-loathing to unite us regardless of party affiliation, race, or creed. Let us come together and redirect our arbitrary hatred to those with too many pockets on their shorts!
I’m not ashamed to say that I sometimes wear cargo shorts.
It’s a convenient way to carry large amounts of
If you aren’t a pussy, share your NF/NS confessions in the comment section below.