Last year around this time, I wrote about how Georgetown is not a real party school with real tailgates, or for that matter, a real homecoming. Basically, Hoyas get blasted before the annual tailgate to help them forget that they’re actually in the parking lot of McDonough Gymnasium wearing “Hoya Saxa Laxa” pinnies and cheering for a game against a Division III school to whom we will most likely lose.

But for this year’s homecoming, I will be completely sober. This is not entirely voluntary, thanks to being on antibiotics (drinking would be bad for my liver) and that I signed up to babysit later that afternoon (drinking would be bad for my baby).

“Wait, Catholic Schoolgirl, you mean to say you drink? But you’re not 21!”

Yes, I have been known to imbibe on many an occasion, and guess what? It’s not a crime. * I’m in college, for heaven’s sake. So, future employers reading this: I’m not a wine-o. I’m just a regular college kid who likes to sneak a little somethin’-somethin’ into her Fresca from time to time.

But drinking can be a divisive issue in college. I have some friends who don’t drink. I have some friends who drink so much they should probably get a Dr. Phil intervention. Most lie somewhere in the middle.

When I first arrived on the Hilltop, I had drank a few times before, but looking back now, it probably doesn’t count. It consisted of sneaking into the woods (read: sliver of woods in the neighborhood. I lived in the suburbs. There was a mini-running trail in these “woods.”) with Gatorades and half-empty bottles of tequila stolen from our parents’ liquor cabinets. Or there would be that friend who had “cool” parents who let us drink but pretended not to know. Ah, the good old days.

Back then and even into freshman year, I lied to my parents about drinking. It’s strange, because my parents didn’t care. I’m just an awkward person.

In fact, my parents probably drank more when they were in college than I do now. My dad told me so after spending a few minutes at a Burleith party the weekend he moved me in. Back in his day at the University of Georgia, he lived in the “Death House” with his ROTC buddies, and apparently they threw down harder than we do. There was none of this “beer ping-pong” nonsense. Real men don’t need games to drink.

He never fails to remind me that Georgetown doesn’t compare to UGA, and I don’t doubt it. Georgia is consitently ranked one of the nation’s top “party schools” by Princeton Review (or Playboy, if you prefer a more reputable ranking site). But still, in spite of our party inferiority, I would rather have a “bulldog” as my mascot than a “bulldawg.”

Sure, we may be nerdier than our parents, but we can have fun, too. At how many colleges can you find a bunch of American kids standing around the keg speaking in Mandarin Chinese?

*Actually, it is illegal. The fine people at The Hoya do not condone underage drinking.

Sarah Amos is a junior in the School of Foreign Service and editor of the guide. She can be reached at [email protected] CATHOLIC SCHOOLGIRL appears every other Friday in the guide.

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