“Seasons? Autumn? Fuck that. CMC.”“It’s like a $60,000 club membership where one of the year’s most anticipated parties involves dressing fancy and playing with monopoly money on your Saturday night.”“Toga parties: we have them too.”“Want your balls to stop sticking to your thighs? Yeah, us too. CMC.”“Ranked #2 by the Princeton Review in the new ‘number of Scrippsies seen not wearing shorts that cover really any of their butt-cheeks at all, per capita’ category.”“Want to melt your face off? CMC.”
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