the godfather
I’ve got a bone to pick with the motherfucker who invented the word “hangover”. To me, it seems like a built-in excuse to lay your fat ass in bed till 3:30 pm and devour the remains of your obscene GrubHub order from the night prior. Miserable. After a night of drinking – which my pledge master says should be seven nights a week – I’m setting my alarm for 3:30 am. Fuck what science says, I don’t need rest. There’s no such thing as excessive alcohol usage, and if you think there is, your inner bitch has complete control over you. Anytime I hear, “I’m so blacked” or “I’ve got the spins”, I cringe at the lack of masculinity amongst my brothers. When the next darty comes around, I’ll be sure to carry tampons with me so the rest of my PC can use them to soak up the can of Four Loko that has them “so faded”.
I wasn’t born into this world as the stone-cold alcoholic I am now. I used to be a lightweight, but years of discipline and training has my body in peak condition. My mission as a pledge is to lift my brothers past liquor mediocrity, hopefully hardening their minds just as I did. When you think you’ve had too much, you probably haven’t had nearly enough as you can. Our bodies are so much more capable than what we believe, you just need to suppress your inner bitch. As I look to rebrand the Sigma Epsilon Chi Fraternity (ΣΕΧ for short), I don’t want any of those corny “Men of Principle” or “Building Balanced Men” mottos, but rather “Be an Uncommon Drinker Amongst Uncommon Men”. For now, I’m about to practice my bows-n-toes form for the next couple of hours before tonight’s lineup. Stay Hard.
