Total Frat Move
W. R. Bolen
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
THE NEW YORK TIMES BEST-SELLER
Put simply, it's time for a national update on college fraternities. Greek life today makes Animal House look like a Pixar movie. The amount of alcohol that is being consumed, promiscuous sex that is being enjoyed, and intense drug-induced raging that is taking place on campuses across the country has quietly reached ridiculous new heights.
Written with the goal of being the most fun you've ever had reading a book, TOTAL FRAT MOVE pulls back the curtain on this world of hard-partying American decadence. The stories are unabashed. They are hilarious. And they are going to blow you away.
You're welcome, world.
five-course meal for you, and you’re going to eat every fucking bite of it.” The actives laughed and clapped together, sipping beers, cracking jokes, and smoking cigarettes as they looked on. Mr. Weston rang a dinner bell to quiet the room and get everyone’s attention. “For your appetizer I’ve prepared a rare delicatessen,” he said. He picked up a large Tupperware container from under one of the tables, walked down the line, and placed two small round mystery treats on each tray. I stared down
advisors. It housed over a thousand first-year students, which made moving in complete chaos. Luckily, the female scenery was enough to make it bearable. If the prospect of being freed from parental shackles wasn’t enough to get me pumped about college, the hundreds of eighteen-year-old slampieces who were now my neighbors definitely did the trick. They scampered back and forth with boxes from their parents’ SUVs to their rooms, eager to start their lives as independent young women. Their fathers
Jim,” she groaned in disgust. “Who the hell is Jim?” I asked. “I’m Townes.” She ignored me. I looked over at the roommate, but to my disappointment she had rolled over and was pretending to be asleep. “Look, Townes, you should probably go,” she said. “I’m really sorry, but it’s just better if you just go.” “Yeah, uh, we should do this again,” I said as I pulled my camo pants up over my throbbing boner. On the way out of the house I gave zero fucks if anyone saw me or not. I whistled as I
middle-of-the-night sorority drama. I still had a lot to learn. Stage 3: Finding Mr. Miyagi It was Spring Break in Panama City my junior year. I was twenty. She was nineteen and went to Ole Miss. We obviously both had great fake IDs, and after we locked eyes at the bar I walked over to her. “I’m Townes, and those guys you’re with are complete douchebags.” “I’m not really with them,” she said. “My friends already went home to crash. I’m Kelli.” “Well, Kelli, you should come drink with
WAKE UP! COME ON!” When I leaned over to see if he was breathing, I noticed a puddle of white, creamy liquid crusting over on his stomach. “Oh fuck! Nate, what the shit did you do?” He responded with a deep, drawn-out groan, unable to conjure up the English language. At this point I was furious, so I threw a towel over the disgusting bum and started hitting him with a pillow as hard as I could. He finally stirred, then rose like a zombie, took one glassy-eyed look at me, and climbed into bed