So last Saturday night, I’ve got nothing cooking right? It’s the week before finals, but all my profs had ours early so I really wanted to get drunk. And this dude at the Rec Center says there’s a party at Delt.

Wait hold on Ö this chick with a black sports bra just got off a treadmill, and is heading this way. I gotta check her out Ö OK, I’m back.

Anyway, I figure I may as well try my luck since all my loser friends are studying for finals. I get to Delt at, like, 11:30 p.m. and the line is already longer than a whore’s dream. Some butt-nut frat guy is running the door and telling everyone to move back and they keep pushing into me.

So I finally get to the front of the line and this little skinny-ass punk who probably pays $900 a month to go to parties like this asks me if I’m on the list. I said I’m a Beta, and can I get in? And he’s all like, “Yeah, well who’s your president?” And I’m all like trying to make up a name that’s common and say, “Jason Williams,” and he just cuts me off like I’m not even there and yells, “NEXT!”

So I say, “Dude come on, we’re all guys here looking for hot sluts. Doesn’t that count for something?” And he then proceeds to have me escorted face first onto University Avenue. So I ask you, seriously! Whose rod do I have to slobber to get in a damn frat party?