IZZY

The boy: Wolf Boy

#TBT to:  Junior year of college

Izzy and I were in the same sorority in college. In October of our junior year, our sorority was having a Halloween-themed party, which was standard protocol. Because in college, almost every Greek life party in the month of October is a Halloween-themed one. I personally enjoyed this normative social agenda because it allowed me to fully diversify my costumes- slutty/funny/clever/’group’/inside-joke/alt. slutty.

This party wasn’t just a regular party, though. It was a ‘date party’. And a date party is the best kind of party. For those of you who do not know what date party is, at least where I went to college- It’s a party hosted by a fraternity or sorority, pre-paid for by dues, at a decently nice offsite venue that is attended only by members of the host sorority/fraternity and the guys/girls they ask to go with them as their dates. Hey- Thanks, mom and dad!!

Izzy was planning on asking this super-hot boy from the track team to go with her as her date. But then I accidentally went with him. And by ‘accidentally,’ I mean that I’m an asshole.

Whatever. Judge me. He was BANGIN’.

Izzy was set up with a fellow sorority sister’s guy friend in a frat, who was planning to meet her at the date party. Izzy, who dressed up as a sailor, went a bit overboard at the pregame (LOL) and blacked-out by the time she got the date party, which she ended up attending solo. It’s not that her date didn’t show up to the club. He did. But when he saw how wasted Izzy was, he immediately left.

Before you judge me too harshly for stealing Izzy’s intended date before the date party, Izzy stole someone else’s actual date during the date party.

Except this guy wasn’t a sexy, nationally-ranked track star. No. He was a scrawny, dorm-dwelling freshman boy. A scrawny, dorm-dwelling freshman boy who was dressed as a wolf, invited to the date party by a freshman girl who was dressed as Little Red Riding Hood.

Poor girl, now-dateless and wearing an irrelevant costume, made even less relevant.

Not yet initiated into the sorority, the freshman girl had no choice but to stand by and watch Izzy run off with (corner, and aggressively grind on) her canine sweetheart.  And of course, the freshman boy didn’t correct the situation because he’s thinking that he’s the man for running off with (getting cornered, and aggressively grinded on by) a junior girl, no matter how incapacitated she may be.

Fully committed to his character, the freshman boy, who I will further refer to as ‘Wolf Boy,’ wore a horrendous wig, had awkwardly adhered an amorphous-shaped patch of fake fur to his chest and painted very-thick black whiskers on his face.

After grinding with Wolf Boy, Izzy’s costume had some random chunks of fake fur on it. And after making out with Wolf Boy, her face was covered with black face paint. A real good look for a girl who was already holding up so well.

Izzy is now (unintentionally) making everyone around her laugh by drunkenly dancing, or stumbling about, on the club’s stage. This, combined with the blackface she’s now (also unintentionally) sporting, made it easy to confuse Izzy for a bigot dressed as a 19th century minstrel show performer. So, time to step in…

With more than a considerable degree of force, a friend finally detached Izzy’s big ass from Wolf Boy’s small crotch, and then dragged the drunken sailor into the bathroom to try and wash the paint off of her face. It didn’t really work, though. Partly because the paint was stubborn, and partly because so was Izzy. She kept turning her face in the opposite direction as the paper towel, so the paint kind of just smudged rather than came off completely. Only when the paper towel was held down would Izzy look straight at her friend, but only to ask over-and-over again, “Am I pretty? Amy I pretty?”

This is what Izzy looked like when she came out of the bathroom, so you decide for yourself:

You’re probably wondering what happened to Izzy, Wolf Boy, Little Red Riding Hood, Track Star, and myself at the end of the night, and afterwards.

And the answer is, kind of nothing…

Izzy (thankfully, and not without some slight restraining) went home sans-Wolf Boy shortly after coming out of the bathroom that night, and nursed a nasty hangover the next day. She never spoke to Wolf Boy again.

And because there were like 65 girls per pledge class in our sorority, and because it’s a sorority, Izzy pretty much never spoke to Little Red Riding Hood again either.

Track Star ended up ‘trading-up’ to a plain blonde girl who was in the #1 hottest sorority house on campus. And I moved on to his less-bangin’, but more interesting track teammate who had a small gauge earring.