Sorority Life: Sometimes It’s Shitty

When I was a sophomore living in my sorority house, I was blessed with the honor of living in a quad. Not only did I have to share a room with three other girls (who all had way too much stuff), but the room was also tiny, and there was absolutely no privacy.

By COED Staff

But after living there for a few months, I realized that there were some perks to this unwanted living situation. For one thing, the girls I lived with were hilarious. We were always having a good time drinking, watching movies or just hanging out. They were also nice to have around in a time of crisis, kind of a 24-hour support system. Even with all these perks, though, the small space created many issues, the least of which was a lack of drawer space.

My all-time-worst moment in this itty-bitty box of a room happened after a sorority date-party. For those of you who don&#39t know, a sorority date-party consists of asking guys to join you at a bar where everyone gets very, very drunk. Unlike every other night of the week, date-parties also involve dressing up, “dark buses” (buses that have no lights on in them) and a photographer. Anyway, needless to say, my roommates and I got quite intoxicated. Upon returning to the sorority house, everyone proceeded to leave her man outside and completely pass out, fully clothed.

At some point during the night, I suddenly woke up and inhaled: something smelled really bad. It took me awhile to figure out where I was, why I was still wearing heels and why there was a slice of pizza in my hand. I also noticed that my roommate Jamie (whose bottom bunk was a mere 4 inches away from mine) was also up and sniffing the air with a not-so-happy look on her face.

&#39Dude, what is that smell?&#39 she said, sniffing the air like a puppy in heat. I began looking around the room, trying to figure out what was going on. Considering the small size of our living quarters, it took only a second to find the culprit: at 5:30 in the morning, wearing a beautiful black BCBG dress, my roommate was squatting over the bottom drawer (MY DRAWER!) of the dresser … taking a dump.

&#39MARISSA!!&#39 I screamed, &#39What the hell are you doing in my underwear drawer!?&#39
&#39What?&#39 She responded, confused. &#39Why are you in the bathroom stall with me?&#39
&#39You are not in the bathroom, you moron, you are in our bedroom … taking a crap on my thongs!&#39 I didn&#39t know whether to laugh, cry or throw up all over myself. A moment later, I was ready to do all three.

As Marissa finally realized what she was doing, she (in a still-drunken stupor) attempted to clean up her mess, effectively wiping her excrement on every wall from the room to the bathroom. I couldn&#39t help but scream. And kick. And cry. And throw up a little in my mouth. Soon the entire sorority was awake and screaming along with me. Thank God for our house mother; she sent us all to sleep in another sorority house for the day, while she called in a cleaning crew to fix the mess.

I ended up living in a triple for the end of my sophomore year. Marissa ended up living alone. Normally, a single would be impossible to get for a sophomore, but as it turns out, no one wanted to live with the pooper.