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Don't ask your rushee what kind of car she drives.
This actually happened to me! We were talking about on-campus parking, and what a pain it is, and yadda yadda... and suddenly, the girl I'm talking to asks what kind of car I drive. So I tell her that I drive a silver 1989 Volvo 240 station wagon. Affectionately referred to as "the tank" or "the brick." I miss that car.
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The owl, the key, the fleur de lis... rah rah for KKG!
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