This post has nothing to do with green fields. Or unicorns.
It has to do with a memory I had this morning while a twenty year old student was, just for me, explaining the procedure for getting high using a nail and a can of whipped cream. What a nice kid.
So while he was telling me of this and many other common household items that can be used to psycho-pharmacological advantage, I remembered, suddenly, that way back when I was a sorority girl, we had a, um, sorority rush ritual we used for weeding out people who were not funny enough to be our official branded college BFFs.
What we did, on the third night of rush, was lead our prospective members into a candle lit room. There, we would solemnly chant the code of values our national headquarters held so dear. At the moment of highest possible solemnity, we held up cans of hairspray that we conveniently placed on the table, flicked a bic lighter, and produced a plume of pure flame in front of the dear faces of our possible future official branded college BFFs.
Any potential member who failed to laugh was cut. You simply couldn't be one of us if you didn't get why that was funny.
Yes, it was a violation of fire code.
Yes, we were reprimanded by "national" for doing it.
Yes, we continued to do it anyway.
I used to think that sorority / fraternity membership was bullshit. Truthfullly, I still do. But I can't ignore that fact that sixteen years after graduation, the only people I keep in touch with from college are sorority sisters. Chand, Newsy, and Tree, and Zard. Just yesterday, Chand told me I could move in with her if I needed to get out of the city and not deal for a while. I wouldn't even ask that of my own sisters, and she offered without me asking.
Despite the fact that sororities are elitist and stupid and despite the fact that I am now Jack's medulla oblongata, I really do have some good friends.
(Give me a break. It's Tuesday).