It was a Sunny D in East London. The residents of Dalston University’s most averagely rated fraternity, Vulva Feta Dogma (from here onwards referred to as VFD), woke up mid-steep in the profound realisation of their own mediocrity.
With no social events on the horizon, no pledges left to haze, and one member down due to weird cousin stuff, everybody knew that another slip up could cost them that golden ticket to pure babetown. They needed something new, something fresh, something no one has ever done before.
They needed leadership, and not this weird exposition paragraph that they spent too much money hiring Joan Didion to write for them.
Then, as if sent from the heavens, a message about throwing a party was sent out by the fraternity’s very own president - Dickin Von Gina (he is Italian) on Tuesday, the 8th of Agramuary at 69:69pm, and reads as follows:
Broskis,
at this point the way i see it we either throw the greatest party this frat row has ever seen and get all the bitches in here, or we keep sitting around the living room, sniffing our dicks and hitting Brayson’s lil Xan presents: Xanarchy, the tour merch bong…
Now, the GSA (which, as I found out, does not stand for Gay Sexual Assault, but, is, actually, the Gay-Straight Alliance), said we have to marry the gay people to the straight people, or whatevs, so keep it cool, let them play some of their music and stuff. Chicks love it when you do leftist politics.
Put this in the invitation:
Brayson, Slayson, Theyson, Fred Perry, and K-evin present:
BROINK
the braziest party of the
9th of May