“I can’t look at this,” said my friend Matty, as they exhaled a bulbous, opaque cloud of vape in the kitchen of an off-campus house inhabited by some Sigma Phi Epsilon brothers.
It was a party, on a Saturday night like any other. The arid air enveloped us like a microwaveable sleeve, and we were the Hot Pockets.
The concept is a one out of 10 because there was no concept, other than my concept of my own mortality.
There weren’t many people there, but the distribution was very even. It was like the number of people you would see if you went to Trader Joe’s on Wednesday at 4 p.m., and the Trader Joe’s was in a hole, and you had your two twin sons with you, and your husband left you for their daycare teacher who went to Sarah Lawrence College for a B.A. in Sociology. And Sarah Lawrence College, in this scenario, is also in a hole.
So that’s an eight.
With the floors of the house dry and the walls slick with human liquids, Cody, Matty, and I traversed the grounds until we happened upon a trash can.
“That’s my ex.” said Matty. I nodded solemnly.
Have you ever seen the Disney Channel original movie “Hocus Pocus”? I wish I was watching that movie right now and I can’t find it online. Then we left the party. Atmosphere was a two because the walls were literally sweating and the thought of walls sweating makes my pancreas angry.
Sig Ep’s overall score is three. When we left, Aminé’s “Caroline” was playing. A lone couple made out as Aminé proclaimed, “Let’s get gory, like a Tarantino movie” and I thought to myself, “Haha, I should put that in the article.”
Yes, I’ve read nine to 10 pages of Kierkegaard’s “Either/Or.”
Correction (9/17/18): An earlier version of this article referred to the off-campus house as affiliated with the UR chapter of Sigma Phi Epsilon.
