I think we've all heard of the classic college themed parties like "Pimps and Hos," and "Golf Pros and Tennis Hos," or "G.I. Joes and Army Hos". I think it's about time to spice them up a little with fall semester right around the corner.

Check out these hot new themes that'll be hoppin' all over the country this semester!

• Jockos and Tacos
• Mac Pros and P.C. Hos
• Egyptian Pharoahs and Mummy Hos
• Star Wars Geeks and Trekkie Freaks
• Edgar Allen Poes and Prose Hos
• Home Depots and Backgarden Hos
• Fidel Castros and Communist Foes (Alternate: Francisco Francos and Nationalist Hos)
• Robinson Crusoes and Tropical Island Hos
• Severely Psychotic Schizos and Chronically Depressed Hos
• Nazi Germany Gestapos and Reichssicherheitshauptamt Hos
  

Christopher Van Winkle: 3 years, 1930-1933

CHRIS: I’m sorry I haven’t been at work in a while, sir. I seem to have nodded off.

BOSS: Don’t worry about a thing; I’ve married your wife and adopted your sons.

CHRIS: That’s ridiculous. I would never agree to that.

BOSS: You talk in your sleep.

Richard Van Winkle: 1 year, 1955-1956

RICHARD: Oh crap, I’m late for work again.

MRS: You’ve been asleep for a year, honey. You’re a year late for work.

RICHARD: Why didn’t you wake me up?! How can you keep letting me do this?

MRS. JONES: Oh, right, it’s my fault. Not your bizarre hereditary illness.

Hey kids, wake up. We need to have a talk. Huh? I don’t know, about 2 AM, I think. Listen, I have to tell you all something. It's about your mother and I. But before I do, I want you to know that no matter what happens, we’re going to love all of you a little more or less, depending on how we’re feeling day-to-day. Our emotions toward you have been kind of hazy these last few weeks. But right now you all seem like pretty solid peeps in my book.

So you’ve probably noticed your mother and I fighting a lot lately. All the time, actually. Yes, Emily, even when we’re not yelling, we’re still fighting. In fact, the non-yelling fights are worst. So cold. So hopeless. Oh so hopeless. More hateful than anything you’ll ever know, though they did usually take place in front of you, in your bedrooms. Or your classrooms—I don't know why we did that.