By the time that

you read this, I will have performed in Hugo Young, shirtless and

covered in baby oil.

I participated in this year’s Greek Week, which

was a great time all around. I got to play fun games and cheer on

my fraternity brothers and other friends. It proved to be a great

escape from my finals troubles.

Greek Lip Sync, the crown jewel of the whole

week, took place this past Tuesday evening. It is one night for

which members of all seven Greek chapters brainstorm and

choreograph over the span of an entire year. It can make or break

any chapter’s chances of winning Greek Week and the pressure is

always on to one up the competition and put on the best show

possible.

My role in this whole shindig, then, was to

grease myself up and look fit and sexy fine.

And guess what? I’m living my dream by doing

this.

Now, this dream doesn’t necessarily entail

getting my Chippendale on, but it sure has become a byproduct of

it. Rather, I aspire to make a fool out of myself at the most

opportune times. The best opportunity, to me, requires my

adrenaline pumping, my dignity and shame locked away, and a large

crowd of people bearing witness to my shenanigans.

Oh hi, theater packed with sorority girls!

For those who didn’t get a chance to attend Lip

Sync, you missed me squeezed into tight black leather pants

complete with nipple-chaffing suspenders, bumping and grinding on

Hugo Young’s hallowed stage as my awkward farmer’s tan skin

glistened under the bright lights.

I also stuffed my pants with socks, but that

little secret stays between me and you.

Dear reader, I have worn many awesome and

bizarre outfits in my time for a variety of reasons. Such wonderful

costumes include a pineapple mascot suit, an inflatable horse suit

and most recently, a gorilla costume.

To the point, I’m writing this column on Monday,

April 18, the day before Lip Sync took place. I tell you this

because I have no idea how I’ll ultimately do with my sexy little

show or how the audience will take to this.

However, I shall venture a guess that I only

hope will be confirmed when I read this in print: this performance

may be my finest ever, and it’s because I put everything on the

line, including my shirt.

Thus, here is my charge to you, you sexy thing

reading my column right now: try walking around shirtless for a

while.

I clearly intend for you to do this under legal

circumstances (e.g. in your own home or dorm room) and in no way do

I condone engaging in wrongful activities, especially streaking

shirtless across the stage during the upcoming commencement, in

front of Fred Finks and everyone’s parents. That would be bad and I

don’t approve of it.

I gotta tell you, though; you’d be hard pressed

to find a freer feeling like the kind you’ll have being alone or in

front of others (your choice) without the constraints of a

shirt.

You’re probably thinking, “Cody, you’re weird

for writing about getting naked and even weirder for suggesting we

do the same!”

You made it this far in my column, didn’t

you?

That means you’ve at least thought for a few

seconds about going shirtless in front of others.

See? You’re thinking like a sexy person and you

didn’t even realize it.