A year and several awkward sexual encounters ago, I began recounting the anticlimactic tales of one Catholic school girl.
This is my final column, and in the spirit of my first column over a year ago — the 10 Commandments for freshmen — I will run through the Seven Deadly Sins of the Hilltop. Don’t feel guilty, this lapsed Catholic has committed of all of these.
Pray for me.
Where do I start? The sheer quantities I consume during jungle-juiced adventures? The third and fourth helpings of bacon I consume at Leo’s brunch to soak up the previous night’s adventures? The packets of chocolate chip cookie dough I eat on Saturday nights in my room while watching “Millionaire Matchmaker?”
I usually don’t commit this sin, except when dealing with University Information Services. SaxaNet is the spawn of Satan, so I feel justified in my anger.
As an SFS-er there’s a special place in my heart for this vice. Any good, brown-nosing I-Pol major will quickly make you feel like a worthless human being if you haven’t interned for your senator, spent a summer teaching English in Mauritius and/or received top-level security clearance.
The best part of Georgetown’s elite status of bringing world-renowned speakers is the fancy receptions that follow. I’m that girl who loads up her small appetizer plate with all the available Stilton cheese and raspberries.
I live in a townhouse with five other girls, and I am the only one among them who does not attend an exercise class of some kind. But that doesn’t keep me from living in workout leggings at least three days out of the week. People will ask me if I just went for a run, but the truth is I most likely slept in until noon and didn’t feel like wearing real pants.
Every time I see a couple’s PDA in Lau, a little part of me dies inside.
(See “Envy.”) As my pen name would suggest, this may be my greatest sin, but I am not alone.
Consider our generation’s preoccupation in discussing the ubiquitous “hookup culture.” Look at the crass drawings scrawled across the library’s cubicles or overhear two drunk Jane Hoyas at a party: “I just wanna make out with someone reeeal bad!” (Oh wait, I may be talking about myself again … )
But it’s been many years since my last confession — unless you count these guilt-ridden confessions, dear reader. After all, you can take the girl out of the Catholic school, you can’t take the Catholic school out of the girl.