An Up and Down Fall Semester

It has been just over a month since the last blog post has been made (Craig's blackout poem crafted during the all night Ohio State pregame), and while this blog is on its last leg, its not officially dead yet, which leaves me with an opportunity to look back on the semester.

When I got to thinking about this fall, I couldn't really come to a consensus on whether or not it was a good or bad semester. I realized that this is because it truly has been a semester of extreme highs and extreme lows. And you can't really say that the semester ultimately finishes somewhere in the middle, because it just doesn't feel like that kind of semester. It was either bad or great:

• Exhibit A: BOX. BOX house gained much fame over the semester, as the house was featured time and again in the Michigan Daily, on Mgoblog, on television, etc. Both of our signs condemning the Detroit Free Press (1 being "Rosenberg Punches Dolphins, and 2 being "Sharp Condones Sea Mammal Abuse") were front page on Mgoblog, making me prouder than ever to be part of BOX. This high was tempered with the stark realization that BOX house officially would cease to exist. We'd been hanging onto threads for a while, but it was still a sobering thought to realize that the house had officially been passed on to other students.
• Exhibit B: Michigan football. In my memory, the semester began that sunday morning when the message boards started leaking out about the Freep making allegations against Michigan football practicing too much. This ignited in all of us a backlash against the jokers that published this garbage, and also a strong support for Rich Rod and company. After the first 4 games of the season, it seemed, our steadfast support seemed to be rewarded. It was, once again, great to be a wolverine. This high was completely and utterly destroyed, especially when we lost to the likes of Illinois. We dropped as low as we possibly could, becoming the worst team in the entire big 10 and leaving the seniors of the house watching (this does not apply to Al, as he was unconscious at the time) as the buckeyes beat us, securing our fate as a graduating class winless against our archrivals.
• Exhibit C: People in the house. The high point of this exhibit is without a doubt the new arrivals: Drew and Dan. They've exceeded expectations and are what I would consider quintessential BOX people. No one would argue that any of us didn't live the dream this semester. We did our fair share of partying, but for me at least, the attitude of living like an alcoholic and not facing any of the consequences died a bit this semester. The Wetness' hospitilization and near-death experience, forcing him to drop out for the semester, was the first sobering event of the year. The Friendly Neighborhood Drunk's diagnosis was even more sobering, because it was proof that our lifestyle actually isn't that healthy, giving me reason to believe that I'm probably heading down the same path as him in the not so distant future. And finally, just when I thought I had my career path on track after succeeding on the LSAT, I went and put it all in jeopardy after a couple of run-ins with the law. I know for us three at least, these moments were the first time in college that anything actually stood in the way of our live-the-dream-at-all-times mentality. Don't get me wrong, no one is saying we're ever going to give up our lifestyle anytime soon, but it was certainly the first hint that undergrad life actually does come to an end at some point.
• Exhibit D: Was anyone not pumped for basketball to be ranked in the preseason top 25 for the first time since 97? It promised to be a season of tailgating, cursing out referees and opposing players, and a highly entertaining and successful season that would once again remove the bad taste left in our mouths after another dismal football season. What could have been the best sports team our graduating class had in all of our 4 years quickly disappointed, though. Barring a stellar big ten record, they've already eliminated themselves from the tournament. Awesome.
  

It certainly wasn't an uneventful semester. But I wouldn't want to look back and have that be my last semester of college, that's for sure -- far too many low points. Let's hope Winter Semester will be free of hospital visits, liver failures, and criminal charges, and full of good spirits and plentiful beverages. After all, we need to send out BOX on a good note.

Ode to Michigan

so I FIaNLY DECIDE TO WROTE THE POEM OF YOUR DREAMS...........
ODE TO MICHIGAN...... MOSTLY BECAUSE I AM NOT AN ENGLIHSMAJOR AND AM CLEARLY AN ENGINEERING MAJOR..... SO, STOP MAKIN G FUN OF ME AND JUST WRITE YOUR GOD DAMN STORY.... BTW IM GONNA WRITE ANOTHER ONE AFTER THE GAME IS OVER TOMORROW AND IM GONNA KILL YOU UNLESS YOU PUBLISH IT... "btw this was the best poem ever!! from the egypttiain hyroglyphics by the japenese poems and they gonna whOoOoOPyo ass!! be afraid... be very afraid... ron gonna fuck you. and your asshole.... and my asshole. roar sounds like quite the gORRilla... or the
BECAUSE I ANM THE BIGGEST FAN...





By ledners.... 11/21/09: 4:47 AM - cl


ODE TO THE BIG HOUSE
by c... im trying to write something.. i havent doens something english related since before high school related an i woudlnt count on any of that book i just read for anything....

Ode to the man who lives in this Big House
Some man that just can't find a spouse
His name might be shoe-less Paul
But his personality is no better than the wall,
That fucker is just a 100 credits deep,
Ouch, writing this poem seems like I am asleep
We only had a whole year to love and grow so old
But by god those times so surely turned to gold
My life has turned towards our very last game
I surely hope this tailgate will give me some fame!
We spent the past four years of our lives,
Having more god damn fun than our brothers' wives!
She will swing, sing, dance and swear,
During all those times that I cannot bear...
She made it worth all that time and wait...
That i was so ready when she finally opened her gate.
Well, my name is c and I love my life.....
Especially when i live without any woman close to being my wife!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In the real world we will feel like a mouse
Always searching for our brand new god damn Big House




Ode to the big house i must say
Freshman year that Jello came out gay.
We would drink with the ladies in our hall,
and we loved that they'd give out B-jays to all!
During freshman year we liked to experiment
With girls sucking you off with a mouth full of spearmint
So i must say its the ode to michidicks
POaul will join you in those cocks so very thick.
At last you've met a girl that's hot and fat
Paul wants to nail her nasty, juicy, pussy cat.
She looks so sizzling, she's so nice!
But would Paul's penile size suffice?

So you're not sure she will long for more?
You need a dong she would adore!
But how to get it so long and thick?
Your only hope is Paul's MegaDick!
You'll get so wanted super-size
And see wild craving and jizz in her eyes!
His cock might be just be one big joke
But give him your mom and she'll surely choke,
Your shaft will pound her pink so deep,
Tonight you'll hardly fall asleep!
So the mountain will take you to the top,
You'll fuck her so hard she'll call a cop!
You see that man is bout to get arrested....
But you go to the doctor and your cock is infested
He tells you that you've got the HIV,
But you'd really rather internally bleed.
This is the end of this story my friends.
I really wish this could never ends.
Yes ladies my name really is ,
Despite what you hear I won't make you beg!

-C L



Congratulations!! Graduate Zola you will finally lose your virginity sometime this millennium!!!!!!!!! yay! :-) booya!

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ZOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1



Authored by the Great CL, edited by Ronald Lenders, finalized by Brick (Lenders), Justin (da-Molly) "J-Bird" Weyand, and the ORRangutang!!!!!!!!!

Playoffs?

I have had a very long hiatus from making a blogpost and for that I am sorry. Academics and a lack of anything cool happening in my life has contributed to my failure in posting. However, I have exciting news for our readers. BOX's broomball team has effectively given itself a chance to win this year's championship. In order to ensure that we would end up in the lower division we lost our opening game of the season to a team of coed's and obviously threw the last game of the season as the Wetness deliberately turned the ball over in our zone and even shot at me (the goalie). The appropriately named Dan Griffin's BOX will be supported by a staunch student section this following week. The Snatch Patch as I have named it will be going wild as next week we face a rival team in the opening round of the playoffs. With the Andymal and Stacks holding down the offensive production, Griffin's veteran leadership, The Holster commanding the defensive zone and yours truly as the Stonewall in net, I am confident in our success. This doesn't even take into account Tweek and the Wetness coming off the bench contributing solid ice time. That kind of lineup is difficult to stop and I don't foresee any way in which our opponent stands a chance at victory. Our game is at 1:20am Sunday night/Monday morning; if you want to show your support come to the Snatch Patch, make signs, do something offensive. For now that is all, I will keep all informed as to the outcome of this and future games.

BOX man breaks up with a girl

If there is one thing that the members of the BOX house are not good at it is keeping relationships. There is a general lethargy surrounding any attempts to date girls. It usually takes about 3 weeks for the average BOX man to decide "I'm bored, I'm going to do something else." Well my friend, one such BOX member was just to that point when the girl decided to figure out where their relationship was heading. Let's see how it unfolded.

Her: the part about making out with people
Him: lol
Her: gotta get some kinda action
Him: true dat
Her: yeah youre useless
Him: nope
untrue
Her: haha seems to me to be very true
gotta move on
Him: lol okay
Her: haha well you don't actually seem interested sooooooo yeah
kinda pointless for me in that case
Him: don't necessarily need to be exclusive
Her: haha wasn't saying that
you just don't seem interested n seeing me ever unless you're black out drunk
Him: lol
well you're so far away
i do like drinking
Her: haha dude i was like 3 blocks from your
apartment every day last week
and last night
Him: okay
Her: and most other days
Him: agree to disagree
Her: haha how is that disagreeing
Him: eh?
Her: you just said agree to disagree
Him: yes i did
Her: what are we disagreeing about
Him: agreeing?
Her: haha ok
all i know is i'm not really getting what i want out of this and you
don;t really seem to care one way or the other
Him: hokay
Her: my point exactly
alright good talk
Him: YEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHH
Her: ?
Him: lol i dunno
Her: haha well i'm sure if i never saw you when we were
sleeping together i'll really never see you if we're not soooo yeh hah
Him: oh thats not true
Her: haha oh come on
Him: we will meet again
someday...
somehow...
Her: right
haha well i no longer have your number and you never call me
so good luck with that one
Him: oh you'll know
you'll know
Her: i;ll know what
Him: that its me
Her: when you don't call me? sure
you kind of suck, you know that? haha
Him: i totally do not
Her: i think this conversation proves tha you do
Him: not true
Her: haha i mean the sex is amazing but it never happens
so yeah you suck
a lot
Him: so you say
but my suckiness will be proven on the battlefield
Her: what?
Him: haha i dunno
i just felt like saying that
Her: oook
well you don't really seem to care about this so i'm going to go haha
Him: i care more than you'll ever know
toodles
Her: haha no you don't you don;t give a shit
therefore why i am saying all of this
alright whatever you're a jackass
Him: AM
NOT
i call the toaster

The average BOX man takes his break up chats very seriously.

R.I.P. A lot of Things

As we speak, this blog is dying like so many other things around campus: this house, my time left here, The Friendly Neighborhood Drunk's liver, RichRod's room to breathe, Bill Martin's tenure, that high school JV Defense that goes out every Saturday pretending to be Michigan's defense -- so take this for what its worth.

When I was a pre-drunk growing up, I envisioned my time at U of M full of memorable last-second catches, rose bowl victories, and Ohio State victory celebrations on campus. In fact, the only reason I worked at all in high school, was so that I could watch players like Brian Griese, David Terrell, and Chris Perry run through that tunnel and touch the M Go Blue flag. However, I've learned a valuable lesson that I probably should have known all along: Don't ever get your hopes up too high, because nothing is ever as good as it seems. Not in football or in life. Eventually, it all goes to shit. For reasons that I have determined to be the effect of me being a brutal killer or something else terrible in a past life, the football gods decided that I, along with my fellow senior classmates, were the perfect candidates to get the ultimate shit dumped on us: Being a student/ season ticket holder during the worst 3 years in Michigan football's deep-rooted history. The worst 3 years. I don't need to tell you the teams we lost to, our record, or the about the media blitzkrieg against us. Unless you are like me, and Michigan football is the most important thing in your life, (besides maybe family and close friends) you will never understand the pain, embarassment, and anger that accompanied these three years.

If you haven't noticed yet, I am deeply bitter about how my college career has played out, particularly in terms of athletics. I lived my childhood, adolescence, and teenage years for the sole purpose of what I thought was the only thing I ever wanted in life, the pinnacle of my life -- to go to U of M so I could watch my Wolverines every weekend. I cared nothing for a degree, nothing for an education; all I wanted to do was have a designated spot in the student section at the greatest stadium in the world. Call it unrealistic, call it naive, call it childish, I don't care. Michigan football was and is my life.

That is a brief history of what has become the most depressing thing in my life, but I stray from my main point of this post.

What I didn't realize as a kid was that Ann Arbor's tailgate scene was a world in and of itself, honestly better than any heaven I could imagine. One hundred thousand people sharing a love of my one true love, tradition unlike any other school in the nation, and of course, an endless supply of booze as you hopped from frat to frat down State Street. As a freshman, I immediately fell in love with everything about gameday, but most notably the tradition of getting plastered prior to the game. That first year, I joined the Greek system, and never would have imagined I would end up at BOX. When Al invited me to my first BOX tailgate, I arrived already in a stupor; the next thing I remember is coming-to post blackout during halftime at the stadium and realizing I was covered in ketchup and mustard. Of course I yelled belligerently at the poor students sitting behind me, only to be informed by them that I had in fact been covered in condiments since the moment I walked in the stadium. A Box condiment assault it was.

That was my first BOX tailgate. This Saturday will not only be my, but BOX's, last tailgate... ever. Wedged in between those two dates are days I will never forget and also never remember for the rest of my life. But Saturday, November 21st marks the end of an era. As is true with all good things, it must come to an end at some time or another.

What I urge of you is simple. Don't take this tailgate for granted. If you are a senior, I don't doubt you will savor it for all it is. If you are a junior or younger, remember that you're celebrating the end of an era not just for yourself, but for all those BOX members that have come before you. I've already prepared myself for the absolute wreck I'm going to be in the stadium following what is an almost certain loss; I simply don't know how I'll ever be able to bring myself to leave that stadium for the last time in maybe forever. But the football team's countless problems are not mine. What I can control is how I pursue the final BOX tailgate, my final tailgate at Michigan. I literally plan to begin drinking at 9 or 10 p.m that Friday, continuing through the night until the noon kickoff. Blacking out is irrelevant, especially since its probably preferable to watching the dumpster babies that play defense for us.

You have the rest of your life to be old, wake up at 10 a.m. for a noon game, take you liver medicine, feed your 3 cats, and go do errands for your bitch wife before watching Michigan football kickoff - which you're not drinking for by the way. This is your last chance to drink freely and openly with your closest friends, black out, cuss out a seven year old, dump a vodka drink on an old man, cuss out a seventy year old lady, dump a vodka drink on yourself, and get away with it all.

Go Blue. Do it hard Saturday.

Foliage Month

It's official foliage month. Are you celebrating?

Challenge Issued: Part II: Note on Subject

As "The Aryan" (former BOX resident and current BOX world championship title weight belt holder + world's most awesome man -- Stefan) put it, he has been living on our couch for several days (during which time he has most certainly contracted AIDS, syphillis, ghonnorea, and herpes from the couch alone) thus making him the biggest drinker in the house. Certainly, the man has sufficient grounds on which to make his claim. Not only did he dominate BOX drinking for years during his time at UofM, but he has returned with a vengeance to outdrink every human being in Ann Arbor this week. I believe he has issued a full challenge to PLC. I see no reason why this challenge should not coincide with the Danimal and I's challenge. No one ever complained about a 4 person blackout...its a fact. (PLC is certainly the best in-house drinker in terms of quantity (thusfar unchallenged), but it would certainly be fun to see a matchup between he and Stefan anyways, especially being as both of them are hilarious blackouters).

Perhaps a preface to explain how Stefan got to be in this position (I don't know how you can get more alcoholic than this): Stefan joined a large group of about 20 recent graduates of UofM in returning to Ann Arbor for the Michigan -Penn State game. All returnees enjoyed a glorious blackout friday night and certainly Saturday morning at the tailgate. This is where Stefan says that he is a better man than the other 20 people. While all of the other 20 people returned to their various homes of Seattle, New Jersey, Texas, Connecticut, the Ohio border patrol, or whatever part of the country they happened to be employed in, Stefan made a power move. (Power move: any move that facilitates excessive drinking (look it up in the dictionary, its there)).

Indeed, while most visitors were flying home or driving home, Stefan decided that he could use perhaps one more day of vacation leave, and hence he would black out all of Sunday through the night. As your author, I cannot say that I witnessed the actions that occured Sunday night. But from what I have gathered through the grape vine, I'd say the story goes somewhat like this: Dan steals chair from law quad --> Stefan blacks out --> Stefan punches solid oak law quad chair until point of destruction --> remainders of law quad chair put in street to be run over (in place of fruit in the street) --> Stefan wakes up to find that his hand is indeed broken --> Stefan promptly calls work to inform them that he cannot drive back to Philly because his hand is broken (in other words, he inform his boss that he will literally be blacking out the next 7 days of the week) --> Stefan proceeds to be the man --> Stefan and I wind up somewhere in Bumblefuck, Ann Arbor, this evening, walking home in the rain.

If you're looking for a definition of BOX, look no further than the man, the myth, the legend: Stefan aka The Aryan (he still has the weekend left, which most likely will feature the strongest blackouts yet).

p.s. from Brick again.

Challenge Issued: Part II

As you may remember from the month of July (or sometime), the once BOX resident Pete and I challenged each other for the position of second biggest drinker in BOX house. I will make no excuses for my performance in said competition. I drank a mere 2 CSI's and passed out. An abissmal performance by all accounts. Embarrassment is really the only thing that can describe how I feel about that performance.

Today the Danimal's friend from the great state of Colorado arrived and promptly admired the booze-covered household and asked, 'so who's the best drinker around here?'. While the Notorious PLC remains the unchallenged belt-holder, this ignited yet another battle for 2nd best drinker in the house. Since Pete and B-Russ are now gone (whom I will still challenge to a rematch anyday), the title of 2nd best drinker has come down to a newcomer - Dan - and myself. This time, the beverage choice has been chosen by a blackout-Dan, and it is to be Old Crow. 6 hours will determine the winner.

Let the best drinker win.

p.s. - from Brick

Man in Bear Suit at it Again

Please note the man in the bear suit, perhaps the living symbol of BOX himself:

http://msn.foxsports.com/video?vid=aa642605-6cd1-4c38-a85d-f24cfdf3e8df

That Just Happened

Soo today was one of the more interesting days I have experienced in my life. I am currently very drunk using Brick's computer to let you all know what happened today. It all started when I talked to the Zolameister at about 3.20 today. That motherfucker had just bought a Halloween three pack and I was soo excited to watch it. Good lord, no one knew what was in store. About 5 minutes later, a good man happened to call me and say my presence was required at Chucks. Unable to turn that offer down I headed there. Once I walked in, I was immediately informed I needed to order a "Shit Tooth" from the bar which is essentially a giant mason gar full of 151. After that we were chilling in the lounge when I was told that it was necessary for us to head to Deja Vu. At first I was somewhat hesitant because I had never been to a strip club before. But I deemed it was absolutely necessary because you only get a chance like this once in your fucking life. So, once we decide to go to the Vu, our buddy pulls probably the most aggressive move in history and hooks us up with the BTB party bus to drive us to Ypsilanti with numerous cocktails in hand. After chugging said cocktails we stumbled upon the glorious establishment that is Deja Vu. To be honest I think we all thought the only thing we would see were C-Section scars and bullet wounds but we were PLEASANTLY mistaken. There was a phenomenal crew out there with the exception of one girl and at least she had big tits. So we are chilling at the Vu and then I realize, "wow, I need to bomb." So I head to the bathroom and I just don't have the ability to make it to a toilet. I end up vomiting in a goddamn stall. Yes, my angel hair pasta is clearly visible in the urinal and I'm just a failure at life. To be honest, I am really hammered and this was these were the most important parts of the story so I hope you enjoyed the fact that myself and the boys just made egregious mistakes together. Live the dream folks. Live the dream.

Not a Homeless Shelter

To the person who so kindly left a large bin of food and body spray on our porch this morning: While I know that we might look like a group of vagrants -- judging by our disheveled appearances at times, our rather obvious tendency to overconsume alcohol, and our general dont-give-a-shit approach to life -- this home is not in fact a homeless shelter. Still, your concern for our well-being is much appreciated. We consumed most of the food (albeit expired food) rather quickly.

New Poll: Returning BOX Alumnus

It has officially been determined by the readers that the favorite thing to do while blackout at BOX is hazing Zola. While playing fruit in the street - a game which involves throwing basically any food (originally fruit) into State Street, and chugging your beverage when a car runs it over - putting your life in jeopardy, and breaking things were quite popular choices, hazing Zola turned out to be simply too much fun. I have a feeling that all of these things will be done this weekend.

The new poll centers on the numerous now real-world people returning this weekend for what will be an epic Penn State tailgate and game. A BOX member has gone to jail at the last two football games, and while it would be great to be able to break that streak this weekend, I'm just not sure how likely it is. Things are going to get silly.

Drink up.

7:21 a.m.

It's 7:21 a.m. and we've had three people puke and rally, have you?

7:43 update: its now five people, if you count me twice.

Worried

The Wetness Returns in Full Force!

Needless to say, the title of this post is in response to his health and mine. The celebration for this event needs to be nothing less than blackout. If you read this blog, enjoy his reinstatement to drunken debauchery with us. He wasn't suppose to drink for several more weeks, but his immune system is similar to Arnold Schwarzenegger in Commando.

I miss getting so drunk that I...

Creepily attempt to braid girls hair against their will.
Wake up on Greenwood.
Ask girls on dates to the Red Lobster.
Try to fight the offensive line at Charlies.
Vomit out of my window.
Wake up in Brett's bed spooning... While there are two girls in my bed.
Show up at quickie Burger with no money.
Get naked in public.
Can't get an erection.
Don't know where I am when I wake up.
Throw a Ramen noodle party.
Eat handfuls of ground beef with Paul.
Listen to the Fray.
Fall down both sets of BOX stairs.
Almost double team a girl with Brick.
Do the inspector gadget.

An Apparent Pissing

EDIT:
But does it beat Brett pissing himself nearly 18 months ago?



-Brian

Hello Everyone

Well, since I'm goddamn near blackout I figured that this would be the finest situation to make my first goddamn post. I've been allowed to post on here for weeks and as of yet I have not so I feel somewhat guilty because of this. Well folks, I'm hammered; and after this post I'm heading to BOX to get even drunker so I'll keep things short and precise. I hope anyone who has ever gone to college has had the chance to experience the things that I have at this wonderful place called BOX. Whether it's Al and James P wearing loinclothes scaring off the star QB of our football team or Brick breaking shit in the basement after a disappointing showing I know that all I want to do is live in this dream for the rest of my life. I hope that all these readers understand what BOX stands for and that they live the lifestyle that all BOX members and a few others get down with. It's late, but I'm about to bag a couple of Busch heavy's and take the long and arduous to BOX to get blackout, and hopefully when the fellas get back we can drink more, throw in a dip, and just live the way life is meant to be lived. I love you all and hopefully I'll be able to keep you updated with the going ons at BOX and let you all understand what it is to be a man. For now, take it easy and I'm sure you all will be here for the motherfucking tailgate on Saturday when WE all get smashed and let what may be will be. Love you all and thanks to BOX for giving me permission to let you all know how I live.

Sincerely,
The Friendly Neighborhood Drunk

Drunkest Man in America

There is a never-ending game we like to play here called "Drunkest Man in America". The game is simple: at any given point in any day, you drink and drink some more in an attempt to be the drunkest man in America at that time. The best thing about the game is that you don't even need anyone to play with you, for the title of drunkest man in America is always up for grabs. The other best part about the game is that there are no losers, for even though you essentially cannot win, you will undoubtedly wind up with a high level of inebriation.

We used to have a trophy here at BOX that was given to the drunkest man in BOX house at any given time. It could usually only be won by some act of debauchery that screamed out 'I'm blackout,' but just as easily could be handed off to the next man if he could somehow top the previous man's drunken behavior. Needless to say, the trophy suffered from constant drunken destruction and soon was out of commission.

The Drunkest Man game has been utilized little so far this year, but one act that occurred this past weekend reminded me of the glory this game could bring to one, and it has inspired me to renew the Drunkest Man game to new heights. This weekend, a BOX man who will remain nameless traveled west to Iowa for the football game. After what must have been a satisfactory amount of beers, this man wound up in the local jail, where it is rumored that his .333 blood alcohol content was pronounced to be "the highest BAC blown in town that entire weekend". Surely this man is probably not proud of this honor, but I am here to be proud for him. That is the definition of winning the drunkest man trophy.

Inspired by these courageous actions, I'm going to try and renew the Drunkest Man in BOX game. I'll try to post an update after each weekend naming the award-winner for that particular weekend, and then we can tally them up for when the 1st Semester Drunk awards come out.

To give you an example: Zola won the Drunkest Man in BOX game last night, judging from how he woke up on the floor using his laundry basket as his pillow this morning.

Let the race begin.

Your Favorite Tailgate Tradition?

Amongst the many hallowed traditions sacred to the BOX house on football Saturdays, the blog readers have voted that "field goal over the street light" is the favorite of all the gameday traditions. If you are a concerned reader, do not fret. I , too, was skeptical of allowing field goals to win over "blacking out before 10:00 a.m.". However, while I myself (Brick) voted for the blackout, I truly believe that others were voting for true "traditions". Let's be honest, at BOX, blacking out is no tradition, it's ritual, everyday routine. Kicking field goals (and even Thunderstruck, Keg Laps, etd.) is exclusive to football Saturdays. In other words, blacking out is expected, but field goal kicking can only happen on the eight greatest days of the year (for you dumbasses, the eight greatest holidays of the year are the football saturdays in Ann Arbor). Therefore, I endorse field goal kicking as the greatest tradition to BOX football Saturdays.

Not only does field goal kicking above the State and Hoover street signs qualify as a true tradition, but it can also be combined with the choice of "blacking out before 10 a.m.", considering that most all field goal kicks are completed before 10 a.m. Personally, I fully endorse blacking out circa 8 or 9 a.m. and then kicking the field goal -- both worlds are pleased.

GO BLUE.

Likes and Dislikes

Since I am boring and my life is uneventful, this post is dedicated to letting everyone know exactly what my likes and dislikes are. Enjoy.

Likes:
Talons
Jaffar
Eddie Money
Breakfast Hot Pockets
Glaciers
Roosters
William Tecumseh Sherman
Kinex
Gorgonites
Galgamecks
Chisels
The Jacksonian Era
Bangkok
Quilts
Jackhammers
Air Force One (the movie)
Sam Neill
Anyone with an O and an apostrophe to start their last name
Silly nicknames for genitals of both kinds
Big Things

Dislikes:
Jamborees
Chimes
Primates
Frisbees
Bearenstein Bears
Stained Glass
Philadelphia
Chris Pronger
Vegans
Henry Thoreau
Alchemy
Lazy Susans
Reeds/Cattails/Long Grass
Pulley Systems
Entomology
Flubber
Technology
Scandinavia
Broadsides
Options

The Sober Life

So the sober life is pretty much the worst thing in the world. It all began with a staph infection that was misdiagnosed twice by a couple of moron's at the UM hospital ER. They told me that I had the flu and a pulled groin. Unable to walk the next day without assistance and having a fever of 104 for the 3rd consecutive day, I went back to the hospital where they told me I had a hernia and the flu. They sent me home with a big bottle of pain killers and told me to wait for the surgery team to call me to set up my hernia surgery. In reality they told me to go home and die in my bed, because that is exactly what would have happened without divine (Ross Drath) intervention. Ross drove me to Grand Rapids so that I could see a doctor for my hernia surgery that day rather than waiting two weeks to see the doctor in Ann Arbor. It took the doctor about 45 seconds to inform me that I did not have a hernia and that I should go to the emergency room and get a cat scan. What the cat scan discovered were two massive abscesses filled with staph bacteria. Without medical intervention I had roughly 3 to 4 days to live. Thanks a lot UM. So After an 8 day hospital stay , a couple surgery type deals, and a miserable time I got released with an IV stuck in my arm pumping me full of antibiotics for the next 3 weeks. Fuck my life.

The only advantage of this new found sober state is that I am able to chronicle the hilarity of others. For example, last night I received a text message from my dearest bricky bear at 11:20pm stating, "And a jay z song was on!" I don't know whether to be proud or embarrassed that I immediately recognized it as a line from the song Party in the U.S.A. by Miley Cyrus. He immediately followed that text message up by informing me that, "This aint a nashville party." Truer words have never been spoken. Brick and I also conversed at 4am when he informed me that he was in a house watching South Park, snorting adderall and was not positive whose house it was. It was a beautiful night.

Also in current news, I just received this gem of a text message from my sweet Gina after apparently taking my advice from last night and consuming an Extreme Danger Dane from Charlies. "I biologie i cant still jl I'm so drunk. You're aperone :-)" I do not have any idea what that means, but texts like this are what happens when you consume a large class full of nothing but four different kinds of Stoli.

Readers Choice: Your Favorite Alcoholic Beverage

Our inaugural poll has officially closed; the results are relatively unsurprising. Old Crow was the runaway favorite as your drink of choice at BOX, although Natty Ice and Camo Silver Ice had strong showings as well.

This week's poll: your favorite gameday tradition.

Enjoy your booze this weekend.

The Drunken Mile

Some time at the end of last year while hanging out on the porch of BOX I was approached by a couple of gentleman from the track team who invited me to participate in something they called the drunken mile. I told the men that I would love to attend, however this event did not begin until midnight. In retrospect that may have been my downfall. Instead of resting up and preparing for whatever awaited me, (the only thing I knew was to show up at the track with a 6-pack at midnight) I went out with everyone and was quite hammered by the time 11:45 rolled around. I recruited Craig to join in with me, and Craig, Stephanie, and myself headed off to the track with a 12 pack and belly's full of liquor. When we arrived there were at least 20 participants decked out in full running attire. I was wearing jeans, a polo, and flip flops. The rules of the competition were simple.... Chug a beer, run a lap, chug a beer, run a lap, chug a beer, run a lap, chug a beer, run a lap. On an empty stomach this would be pretty easy, but after drinking for 4 hours, things got difficult. Stephanie may have consumed half to three quarters of a beer and run a lap or two before graciously bowing out. At least there was some effort put in. Craig projectile vomited after 3/4 of his first lap and also declared himself a loser, however Craig and myself were by far the drunkest people in attendance. As for my race, I started quite strong. In retrospect I may have been cheating considering that I was shotgunning my beers but that is neither here nor there. Going into the fourth and final lap I had a very slight lead in the competition, even though I can guarantee I was the slowest runner in attendance, the shotgunning was key. About 100 yards into my final lap disaster struck. I found a sewer drain, got on all fours and proceeded to spend at least three minutes vomiting my guts out. I tried to get up midway through and continue the race, but was forced about 6 feet later to stop and continue vomiting. After I stopped voming, I noticed that of all the participants still running, I was in last place. I of course decided to try and cheat by cutting across the long jump pit and the grass in the middle of the track. A brilliant plan except it was dark and that wasn't sand, it was the steeplechase pit and I fell into a two foot deep puddle of water. As i crossed the finish line, soaking wet and in dead last I was proud of the showing BOX had presented there. We can only hope the smell of Craig's and my vomit still lingers whenever Andy's sister runs past that stretch of track.

Back In The Game

So as you may know I spent quite some time being a bit of a "queer-o-sexual" and have not been blogging. With the current illness that has ravaged my body and taken away my ability to partake in God's sweetest gift to man (alcoholic beverages) for four weeks, I have nothing better than to resume my blogging. Over the next few weeks I will try to recall all of my blog-worthy drunken humiliations over the past year. I apologize to BOX Nation for being so worthless for so long.

U of M Chron-dog Students

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/event.php?eid=140092717332&index=1

This link will take you to a facebook event urging students to protest Kristen Larcom' horseshit. I'm not even in support of a "Protest" that will supposedly better the State Street Tailgate situation. I'd rather we just continue on tailgating rowdily as if nothing ever happened. I do admire the intentions, though.

A couple of students however, feel that Kristen Larcom is in the right, and they have voiced their opinions on the wall of said event...So, if you have time, please visit this facebook group and proceed to harass the shit out of "Steve Briscoe" and "Daniel Montgomery". Anyone that's willing to support the decline of State Street tailgates deserves to feel like a two year old whining for his mom. I've already got the ball rolling by specifically calling these fags out, but I hope that you all can use your creativity to make sure these kids regret that they ever came to Michigan (a football school first, an academic institution second).

This angry message was brought to you by zero hours of sleep, excessive adderall consumption, the Danimal, and rum & cider.



Beat State.

Diamonds in the Rough

Well into the month of July, it appeared as if it would be a mere six members of BOX holding down the fort -- the lowest number probably ever inhabiting the institution. However, thanks to the dutiful work of the Notiorius PLC, BOX acquired its two newest members via Craigslist advertising. Craigslist? Yes, the BOX veterans were extremely skeptical, your author being no exception. I imagined that our next two roommates would be disgusted with the alcoholism that runs rampant throughout BOX, I imagined they would be disgusted with the state of the house post-tailgate, and I imagined we would reluctantly have to consider them BOX members.

I stand 110% corrected in my expectations. The two men that eventually showed up and boldly desired to live at the shithole could not have been farther from my expectations. In all seriousness, if we would have recruited hardcore, looking for someone who truly fit in at BOX, there is no way we would have found two better BOX members:

Exhibit a: Drew. First tailgate, he blacked out, passed out in his bed, and had his laptop stolen while he was unconcscious. That's BOX as fuck (that actually sucks, but I'm referencing Pete here). When Al went down to staff infection (which orginally was a hernia, and before that was the swine flu), Drew took over all Fri-Gay responsibilities. I consider myself pretty BOX, but I can't even bring myself to participate in Fri-Gay; it takes a hardcore BOX man to get drunk and pound stakes in the ground in nothing but your boxers while others spray the hose on you. If you can Fri-Gay, you're BOX, no questions asked. There are certain other radically awesome things about Drew that I'll refrain from writing, but if you've met the guy, you know he's awesome, and 100% BOX material.

Exhibit b: The Danimal. Dan is a drunk, and we are all drunks. We quickly learned he was a drunk when he walked into BOX one day and matched the tolerance levels required during the Old Crow Challenge with ease the next day. How he didn't find BOX before is a question for the gods. But there is no doubt that Dan is the epitome of BOX.

The main idea of my post revolves around the fact that Dan and I are currently sitting in the basement of the Michigan Union, circa 3:06 a.m. in the morning on this random Monday evening, snorting adderall out of a winter cap, Dan is drinking a beer out of a coozie, and we are both sharing a water bottle filled with Rum and cider.

What I'm getting at is... It was no coincedence that Dan (and Drew) found the BOX house on Craigslist. No sir-ee. I fully believe that fate plays a strong role in how one ends up in BOX (After all, getting kicked out of my fraternity was one of the best things to happen to me... seeing as how I ended up in BOX. Who would of thought a semester in the BOX basement was the beginning of the best phase of my life?). Just as it was for Andy and I, fate was at work when it brought Dan and Drew - the two diamonds in the rough - to the hallowed grounds of 933 State. When I try to imagine how the '09 football season would have started without the duo, I literally draw a blank. They have contributed so much already, and fit into the BOX mold right down to the minute details. I'm proud to call them my BOX brothers, as I am everyone who has ever lived here. The year can only get better.



I emphasize my closing statement in today's earlier post: BEAT THE FUCK OUT OF SPARTY. GO BLUE.

More Media Coverage

We've made yet another appearance in the Michigan Daily today:

http://michigandaily.com/content/sportsmonday-column-football-saturdays-just-not-same-without-box-house

The media attention we've received lately is unprecedented. Unfortunately, this article isn't exactly a feel-good story.

I wasn't at this Saturday's tailgate. As Ross so aptly put it, he and I both were "giving ourselves one last chance at a career". But the reviews I got from my fellow housemates were dismal. And this article seems to top off that sentiment. I think it's partially understandable, given the circumstances (most of the frats on State St. moved their tailgates completely), that this last tailgate was less than stellar.

What's not understandable is the lack of whole-hearted participation by a lot of regulars at the tailgates. I can maybe understand if not everyone wants to wake up at 5:30 a.m. to celebrate one of the eight greatest days of the year. But I don't quite understand why there was only about 7 people at the house when I left for my test at 8 a.m. What I'm trying to say is, if you're a reader of this blog, you and I both need to do everything in our power to make sure that there are about 25 people here at 5:30 a.m. for the next tailgate. Let's make it an absolutely ridiculous tailgate. It is, after all Delaware State next up - so get blackout at 7 a.m, make a fool of yourself, don't make it to the game. We need to prove this article wrong. BOX tailgates certainly are not dead. I think this is evident from the post-game tailgate we had following the Indiana win. There were tons of people getting extremely rowdy. We just need to concentrate these same efforts at 5:30 in the morning next tailgate.

"Marching Band, Go Blue Banner, Winged Helmets, BOX House — taking in the wildness surrounding the 900 block of State St. is a vital part of the Michigan game-day experience." - taken from the Daily article. We have some big expectations to live up to. I fully expect to live up to our tradition next tailgate.

Unfortunately, we have two away games to wait through before we can tailgate here once again.

Beat State.
<3 Brick

Introducing the Friendly Neighborhood Drunk

If you're a follower of this blog, you probably have noticed that it's not so much of a BOX blog as it is a Paul and Brick blog. Partly because of this, but mostly because he stands for everything the BOX is, I would like to introduce the newest contributor to your favorite drinking blog: "The Friendly Neighborhood Drunk" aka Chris. His drinking prowess has been detailed many times before, but I feel that his own personal account of what happened to him during the Eastern Michigan tailgate is an appropriate way of introducing him, not to mention completely hilarious.

In lieu of the recent attempts made by the city attorney of Ann Arbor to tame our tailgates, I suggest that you all attempt to get as silly this Saturday as the Friendly Neighborhood Drunk did this past tailgate (in his own words):

"Well folks, I really don't know if I should be proud or appalled by my actions that occurred Saturday for the Michigan-Eastern Michigan game. It all really started the night before. Originally I had planned to stay up all night with Brick drinking and Friday would collide into Saturday. While our plans crashed and burned, it was still a somewhat memorable tailgate. I came dangerously close to blacking out Friday and passed out at midnight. I awoke, still drunk, anticipating the day ahead at 2am and could not sleep. So of course I took a shower and was off to BOX. Seeing as no one was up when I arrived at 2.45, I decided I might as well start drinking and check out what was on the tube. I dusted off the trusty half gallon I had hidden there the night before and began to consume. I first watched the end of the epically terrible Alien Sex Files 3 on HBO. At the end of that I threw on Jurassic Park and continued to drink. It is a tradition at BOX to awaken the house at 5.30am with the song Du Hast. I could hardly wait. Too much excitement, too much anticipation...TOO MUCH ALCOHOL. My last memory of that day happened while dancing to Du Hast. When I came to, it was 8.15am on Sunday and I lost a complete day to drinking. I had absolutely zero recollections of the day. I am not sure if this is a high or low point in my life. It was fun to hear stories about what happened. Apparently I attempted to destroy a computer monitor, which NotoriousPLC hastily stopped. I failed at kicking two field goals. I destroyed the drunkest man in America trophy. I was dancing up and down State St. with said trophy using it as a paddle for my imaginary canoe. I ended up with 20 more dollars in my wallet but 60 dollars less in my bank account. Only a higher being truly knows what happened to me all day, but at least when I woke up, I had an empty fifth that I could not recognize by my bed. I think this is a testament of what drinking can do to your knowledge. I came to this college with a solid 3.93 gpa in High school and 3.5 at Kansas. My current gpa is 2.6. I didn't start this lifestyle until attending Michigan. But ya know what they always say; "get your degree and your gpa won't mean shit." Well, unless you plan on going to grad school. Oh well, I'm living the dream and I wish everyone could know the joy it brings me. Until next time readers, take it easy."

In the Daily

http://www.michigandaily.com/content/city-attorneys-office-threatens-box-house-other-state-street-tailgates

Out there kicking some ass...

City Attorney's Office vs State St.

Today, houses along State St., including of course your true favorite BOX house, received a cease and desist letter from the City Attorney's Office of Ann Arbor. In true BOX fashion, we will be fighting this and plan on tailgating just as hard Saturday morning. As soon as I know more about this I will immediately make another blogpost.

Fencing

A new activity has consumed BOX's attention over the course of the past few weeks. The University of Michigan has a fencing club that is significantly large (I was unaware of the sport's popularity amongst students apparently). 3 roommates have gone to the practices, and 1 has shown particular interest in the team's one remaining traveling position. The hilarity really comes into view watching the 3 of them limp home after the 2 hour strength and conditioning sessions. 3 men who haven't worked out in literally years were exposed to wall sits, manual squats and other aerobics that their bodies simply are not accustomed to. While sitting on our couch's of shame and hepatitis, I enjoy watching grimacing faces walk through the door. The Danimal's motivation has clearly wained however, and I would not be surprised if we ceased to see him attending many more of the practices. While I personally have little knowledge as to scoring and technique of the sport, the notion of swinging a big saber (note: funny possible dick reference) and pouncing about makes me giggle especially knowing what these men do in their off time. In short, BOX will be competing for the remaining traveling position on the fencing team. Certainly for our followers outside of Ann Arbor, you will all be kept in touch as to whether we get any of our terrible gentlemen on the team.

Return of a Legend

Given the history of old BOX members returning to Ann Arbor to cause destruction to the home, BOX is currently bracing itself - for the notorious Bill Nye perpetrator is flying in from Seattle for the football game this weekend.

No one truly knows what causes BOX alumnus to want to create such chaos upon return to the house. Perhaps it is an attempt to relive college memories when one simply disregarded all societal standards and destroyed the home in fits of drunken stupors, or perhaps it is just an attempt to make the current residents miserable when they are forced to clean up after the havoc. But one way or the other, alumnus destruction to the home has become somewhat of a tradition around these parts. In fact, just last week many of old Box members returned to Ann Arbor to watch Tate Forcier destroy the Irish, and sure enough, when I returned home Sunday morning I was startled and confused when I looked to my roof to find that all of our couches had been relocated there (God knows how). Last tailgate season, someone decided to defecate in the basement, while others took a lesser route and just stabbed pizza slices into the walls with knives.

Thus, while we are giddy in the trousers to consume plentiful portions of alcohol with our long-lost BOX friend, we are certainly going to be on the lookout for the man to pull a few tricks out of his hat.



Go blue.

A Tale of Two Tailgate Seasons

(This post deals more with Michigan football than with BOX related material, but I figure I'll write it anyways)

When my little seven year old self was sitting in the Big House for the first time in 1995, and Scott Dreisbach miraculously connected with Mercury Hayes in the end zone in the final seconds of the game to beat Virginia, the Wolverine faithful erupted in joy, and I knew then and there that I would be a Michigan fan for the rest of my life. Saturdays became my favorite day of the week, offering me the opportunity to watch the maize and blue. My life was Michigan football. I shed tears of joy in 1997 as Charles Woodson ran a kickoff back against Ohio State, sending Michigan to the Rose Bowl and a national championship season. I shed tears of pain when the following season didn't quite live up to that one special season. But one way or the other, Michigan football was always there for me.

Flash forward to my twenty year old self, and the picture isn't so pretty. In fact, it's essentially me blackout beyond belief, probably throwing up in the stadium during the Wisco game or simply passed out during a game I have a ticket to, frankly because I didn't care. Last year, Michigan football didn't seem to be there for me. The worst season in Michigan football history was hard to endure. It wore away at the very core of my Michigan heart. At times it seemed that the Michigan I once knew and loved would never be the same. After the final game, an atrocious loss to our biggest rival, I walked out of the Horseshoe with tears in my eyes (as drunk as I might have been) and I wondered what had happened to Michigan football.

And so last year was literally dedicated entirely to tailgating. Whether it was a conscious effort or not, many tailgaters, particularly myself, made a strong effort to black out before 10 in the morning. Whether or not I made it to the game really didn't matter - for the first time in my life. I can't speak for everyone, but I know many BOX tailgaters didn't make it to much football. The Notorious PLC made it to two quarters of football, for crying out loud. If we did make it to the games, it was probably after the first quarter, just so we could get in an extra half hour of drinking. I wouldn't trade that tailgate season for the world - though I literally don't remember a whole lot from any of it - but there was something missing in the back of all of our minds.

How a year can change things. This tailgate season has almost been scary, considering we are basically a group of alcoholics. You'll see people pacing themselves, making sure that they will make it to the game. You'll see people leaving 45 (!) minutes before the game, wanting to see the team run out of that tunnel for the first time in four years. Hell, PLC has already surpassed his total amount of football seen at the Big House last year. Would anyone have believed me before the season if I told you that not only PLC, not only Al, not only me, but even the Friendly Neighborhood drunk has not missed a minute of football yet this year (this will probably change come this Saturday v.s. EMU, but you get the idea)?!? Don't get me wrong, the tailgates haven't been any worse, but there's certainly an added element to them this year. All because Michigan football is back.

I knew it when I saw Al outside of the stadium after the ND game, amidst a chorus of "It's great to be a Michigan wolverine," when I jumped into his arms and hugged him out of utter joy: the Rich Rod era has begun in Ann Arbor.

BOX in the News

In perhaps what is the pinnacle of BOX's fame, the Detroit Free Press, in response to the above signs that we displayed during the Western Michigan tailgate, has personally attacked us... well, at least our signs. I'd suggest a visit to mgoblog.com for the full story - and also just to see a picture of our house, which is the leading story today on the popular site. Basically Drew Sharp, a writer at that shitty paper, said there were "reprehensible" signs, notably ours, which read "Rosenberg punches dolphins". I'd also reccomend reading all the comments, a lot of which are people saying how much they love our pregame antics, from the field goal kicking, to the costumes, to the debauchery. Read, enjoy, and be as proud as I am today to be in BOX.

When I first saw the picture on the website, I was jumping for joy, and really wanted to commence drinking immediately. It's truly a great day to be a BOX member. All I know is all this hype makes extra-amped for this Saturday's tailgate. I think this Saturday will get much rowdier than last.

Personally, I'm thinking that we make a sign that says "Sharp also punches dolphins" for this weekend's game, but we're open to suggestions.

Hospitality

One week ago today, I was convinced by my friends at BOX to remain in Ann Arbor for just one more night. Their neighbors were having a jersey party, and it was surely going to be a great time. After many rounds of Old Crow shots I found myself next door and having a hell of a time. At some point during the night, I realized that nobody at this party was dancing, so I put on Michael Jackson's "Don't Stop Til You Get Enough," and started an instant dance party with the black chick I had been talking to. We began to dance like their was no tomorrow, and a few others joined in the fun. Suddenly, when the song was still less than a minute young, some ass changed the song to some Lady Gaga bullshit. I went over to the computer and saw none other than The Wetness, laughing his ass off with one hand on the computer mouse and the other around some hairy-legged bimbo's waist. I tried to change the song back but he wouldn't allow it, so I pushed him backward onto a nearby sofa, where he landed both softly and quite unhurt. He jumped up yelling obscenities and took a swing at me, landing a good blow right behind my left ear. I wasn't about to exchange punches with a close friend, so I quickly bear-hugged him to prevent anymore personal injury. I was mistaken, however, because in response to my hug he bit down hard on the front of my armpit, leaving a blue and slightly bloody circle which remains today. I then left the party and went back upstairs at BOX to use the bathroom and call it a night. Thirty seconds later, I heard the front door slam as loud as possible. It was Brick. And he was pissed off as hell. He screamed at me to pack up my shit and get the fuck out of his house for fighting The Wetness. I came back downstairs to face this drunken man. Before I could get a word out, however, we both turned toward the door as The Wetness himself entered, but not until after he squeezed a coffee cup in his hand and smashed it on the side of the house, causing a large gash in his own palm. He pointed at me and said, "LOOK WHAT YOU DID, ASSHOLE!" holding out his palm. "I'll let you stay tonight, because I'm such a good guy, but you're never allowed in this house again." "NOT EVER!" agreed Brick.

Sunday

As I am fairly intoxicated, I've found it absolutely shocking that nothing has been mentioned about what happened Sunday after Brick's most recent post. I made a return trip from Michigan State and drove by the house at around 1 in the afternoon. My father dropped me off at a nearby street as I instructed considering I try to have parents avoid my living situation whenever possible. However, when I looked out the window of my father's Lincoln when we drove by, I saw a handful of people with cocktails and I laughed. After witnessing the same thing, my father then said: "I really like where you live." So, I walk up to the house seeing The Wetness in football pants (pads included) with shoulder pads and of course a Michigan football jersey over them. I also see a feminine partner that he has been spending "time" with and several other roommates very drunk wearing silly outfits. As the day progressed, I stayed sober due to a significant hangover and prior engagements. Yet, the best was yet to come. The Wetness and his female compadre were becoming increasingly bad. So as more and more male species began to arrive, the ratio became worse and more importantly outrageously hilarious. To cut to the chase, one thing led to another and we were all in the living room. The Wetness' friend began to climb on him and rub him and needless to say the rubbing was in a sexual manner. The two of them became increasingly physical and it was in front of a minimum of 8 other male members of BOX. As pants and shirts were unzipped and slowly removed, the thought of possible public sex became a real possibility perhaps even probability. This whole time, everyone in the room is filming with digital cameras and heckling in the most offensive ways possible. However, the climax of the interaction occurrs when someone makes a comment and The Wetness laughs mid makeout/foreplay causing cocktail to spray out of his nose (he had taken a swig only moments before the comment was made). He immediately jumped up caughing and laughing dropping her (she was on his lap during the public couch foreplay) onto the ground. This of course caused an eruption of laughter and general mockery of the situation. In short, the possibility of becoming a BOX legend by sexxing a girl in front of 8 dudes was failed as gin and juice was sprayed onto her face and the floor. To his defense, minutes later the deed was done upstairs in the privacy of his room.

Furious Brick

FUCK THE DETROIT FREE PRESS, YOU PIECE OF SHIT JOURNALIST GARBAGE. THAT IS ALL.


What was once going to be a very productive Sunday for me has now turned into Al and I drinking gin and tonics at 9:30 a.m.

Collect 'Em All

For the last two seasons, each of which I tried unsuccesfully to drink away all memory of Michigan football, I have been hearing phrases like, "Well the football team sucks, but at least we still have tailgating". And for the last two seasons, unfortunately, this has been true. A lot of focus has been taken away from the actual game experience and has been redirected towards the tailgate portion of the gameday, mostly in an attempt to blackout before the game so it would not be remembered.

One could say that the tailgater has been more heroic than the athlete these past two gruesome years. But when does the tailgater get any credit? Never. Until now.

To make up for this I give you the Tailgating trading card, starting with some of the finest tailgaters around: (in actuality, I created this out of sheer boredom in the day prior to the glorious day when I return to BOX for the year and the excitement leading up to the first tailgate, but you get the idea)

Card #1:
Name: "The Wetness"


Home: BOX
Drinking hand: Pulls right; Chases left
Gameday attire: More often than not, you will find The Wetness sporting the bear suit, with Obi Ezeh # 45 jersey over it. On hotter days, he might elect the Captain America costume, or just a good old pair of jorts.
Drink of choice: (see above) As he is allergic to most types of beer, this bear-suited tailgater has become a liquor-savvy drinker. He usually can be seen drinking extremely cheap handles of vodka, or on a good occasion, he will choose to drink the Blue Wave vodka.
Most likely to be heard saying: "[insert opposing team here] has AIDS!!"; "Would you like to come inside for a roofie-colada?"; or singing Enrique Eglasias tunes; "I would just like to tell Mike Hart that he's about as cool as Jesus"
Most likely to be seen doing: Running around in the nude; Giving vodka pulls to old men walking by on their way to the game; kicking field goals above the traffic lights upon waking up
Inside the Big House: Making offensive but hilarious cheers; cheering unwaveringly for his beloved Obi Ezeh

Card #2:
Name: Dave a.k.a. Buzz Light Year

Home: BOX Greenwood affiliate house

Drinking hand: Right

Gameday attire: Rain, shine, wind, snow, or tidal wave, he shows up, usually already hammered at 8 a.m., in the Buzz Light Year costume complete with Michigan football helmet.
Drink of choice: If I had to make an educated guess, I'm sure he does shots of vodka before showing up to the tailgate, then drinks beer while at the tailgate.
Most likely to be heard saying: "To infinity, and beyond!"
Most likely to be seen doing: Arriving on a motorcycle; jumping up and down on mattresses in the yard; flying off of the porch; Wandering aimlessly in the middle of State Street, attempting to direct traffic

Card #3:

Name: Chris aka "The Friendly Neighborhood Drunk"

Home: Once lived next door to BOX, what is now BOX Senior house. Currently, whereabouts unknown (somewhere on Packard, too far away)
Drinking hand: double-fists
Gameday attire: (see above) The gold sequined vest makes up the core of this tailgater's attire, but his fantasically crafted facial hair usually seals the deal (preferably mutton chops)
Drink of choice: Maker's mark. Last fall I remember he dropped a fifth, and after it smashed to the ground, he had a 10 minute long ceremony to mourn its loss - that's how much he revers alcohol.
Most likely to be heard saying: "Fuck it, let's go bowling!"; "FUCK MIZZOU!"'; "I'm DRUNKKKKKK!!!!" ; "BAYONETS!" (the capital letters indicate his loudness)
Most likely to be seen doing: Arriving before anyone else at 5 a.m. with a cocktail in hand; Screaming songs from the balcony of the front porch; chugging a fifth; dancing to Miley Cyrus; throwing utilities off of the roof; dumping a beer on himself
At the Big House: I'm pretty sure he doesn't make it to games

The Phoenix

The Phoenix rises from the ashes and as I think about how 6 days from today the entire house will be moved in, I cannot help but draw the connection. Our letters will be put back up in the next few days, we will have a new computer for the kitchen and best of all we will be graced with many friends' return. Hopefully, the shirts will be here in a few days and our new and dearest neighbors will make their return as soon as possible. I also look forward to reeking havoc on our neighbors to the right considering they are from Sig Ep (that house's old tenants will be missed). I feel as though the house crew has alot of promise for next year and I hold a great deal of excitement for the prospects of tomfoolery. With returning veterans and the introduction of a couple greenhorns, I believe this year has the right chemistry to fulfill all that BOX stands for and truly represents. Farewell reader, a blackout beckons...

Counting Down to the Hallowed Tailgate Season

Tomorrow morning at 5 a.m. marks the two week mark until the first tailgate of the year, when all morals and judgment are tossed to the curb and all hell breaks loose. As the days leading up to welcome week and football season continue to letargically drag on, there's not really much material worth posting. But I thought I'd share a tidbit or two that might make you happy in the trousers in anticipation of that first tailgate.

Last evening I attended a party at one of my high school friend's house. Amidst all the ingorant babbling about "Dick-Rod," Sparty's "dominance" in-state (haha), and Michigan's complete lack of values, two random girls informed me that they had been to a BOX tailgate last fall. In particular, they were very impressed by the "guy in the Buzz Light Year costume" and "the guy who was in a suit directing traffic all morning" and that they hoped to see them again.

To sum up the point of my post: Only 15 days until we get to see Buzz Light Year again! As for the man directing traffic, I can only hope someone can resume his duty in his absence. Cannot wait to see everyone again, cannot wait for Asians in banana suits, cannot wait for that first keg lap of the year... GO BLUE.

Where your tax dollars go

So, as most of you may know, I am recently employed at a government agency in the west coast, and my life is undergoing drastic changes: Being sober on thursday night, getting up at 5:20, having less than 10 drinks at a bar, etc. Anyways, after being employed at said agency for a month now, I've come to realize that it is indeed hell. Now you might say, "Oh wow Bob, great choice with engineering yet again, you must be out of your gourd with all the work you have asshole." Well, I've come to find it's quite the opposite. The first two weeks here were just orientation which consisted of getting us set up with healthcare, internet accounts, retirement accounts and the like, while also teaching us of the history of the agency. I found this all well and good, very boring, but a necessary evil, I was sure it would pick up after, Jesus was I wrong. For the first week my workday consisted of four things: walking by my mentor while he looks at projects at the site, surfing the internet, reading reference manuals, and lunch. You will realize that none of these options is actual work. The only two that resemble work are walking by my mentor, which is just observing him work, and reading reference manuals, which is just busy work because they have NOTHING for me to do. Reference manuals suck...DONG. They describe processes that I have never seen before, so I am forced to imagine these machines doing god knows what, and I end up just dreaming of unicorns and figi. It's essentially reading in Italian: you kind of get a few of the words, but at the end of the day it's an entirely different language. So every day I ask my boss if he has any work for me, and every day he comes back with, "well...no, but you could read this manual!" Fuck. That. Shit.
Now at this point you might say "well Bob, you've always been lazy and shied away from responsibility, this should be great for you!" Sure, it would be great, but it goes on for 8 HOURS EVERY DAY. A man can only read so many reference manuals, and after checking mgoblog 10 times from 730 to 1130 I decided it was enough and devised a plan to add a key 5th element to my days...sleep. My cubicle is back in a little corner of the office, one opening, very little foot traffic due to the wall it is adjacent to. I found that with my back to my opening, there is no way anyone could see what I was doing, so I started putting my manual in my lap, resting my legs on the filing cabinet and doing whatever the hell I pleased, most notably napping.

Now as you can see from this picture I enclosed, asshat across from me probably thinks im just reading this manual in comfort, trying to make the best out of this situation, but what he doesn't realize is that the pages don't move. I probably sleep for 3 hours a workday now. Even when my mentor comes to get me when he wants me to tour the site, I just wake up and turn around, fresh as a krispy kreme, and no one's the wiser. When most people tell you about their job they're like "yeah, i just got this job, it's great, i don't do shit, i just microwave hot pockets," or some shit like that. I can tell you the government does not want hot pockets. I literally dont do SHIT. I have not done any work yet after working in my department for 2 weeks. I have done nothing that helps the government at all, no paperwork, no designs, NOTHING. I read, i follow, that is all that is required of me, so let's do the math! I have been working here for 4 weeks, and on friday I will receive my 2nd paycheck, together totaling just under 9 grand after taxes. Half of those paychecks paid me for my training for two weeks, if you can call it that. As i mentioned, all this thing did was set me up with all my accounts. So there's half gone, im left with 4500 for the last 2 weeks. Now with these I would say 2 hours of my day is spent touring the site with my mentor, blankly staring at people doing shit. So if i have about 4500 left, and I have an 8 hour work day, about 1125 is gone for blank staring. Then I have about 2 hours spent surfing, mgoblog, bbcnews, and espn. Same fraction, same deal, another 1125 goes to me keeping up on the news. 1 hour a day goes to actually reading these manuals, because I get bored of reading the same articles online, so I do end up reading these things. 1/8 of 4500 nets me getting paid 562.50 for reading manuals...great, productive. Let's get into the nitty gritty; As I said I spend 3 hours a day sleeping, so this comes out to 1687.50 for sleeping. If I spent 30 hours sleeping for the past two weeks, it comes out to me getting paid 56.25 per hour of sleep...AFTER TAXES. I find this to be astonishing. I literally stay up late at night just so I can sleep at work and have something to do. I hate my job. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.

Challenge Journal

Last August, we kept a golfer's journal (Old Crow Challenge Beer Can Golf Open) to recollect drunken events of the challenge and laugh at them later. This year, we shall keep and update a journal on the blog for your entertainment and so we can recall things that we surely won't remember.

As of right now, I don't know who will be participating fully or who will be updating this journal, but I assure you me (Brick) and PLC will chime in with regular updates now and then.

Thursday, August 9, the year of our Lord MMIX (3:55 p.m. EST): As this is my first update, I would like to share with you the events that have occurred thusfar in the challenge. Last evening (while in my hometown), I drove up to the liquor store to purchase some Old Crow before I made the drive up to Ann Arbor. Sitting at my house, antsy for the Challenge, I decided to concoct myself a cocktail - citing that one beverage would quell my anxiousness. Hours later, I was quite drunk by myself -I simply couldn't resist the wait for the Challenge (this drunkenness is why the previous post was created, so you can thank Old Crow for that sentimental gem). I woke up hungover, but determined to get to BOX. Upon arrival, I found Dan -the newest member of BOX - already consuming an Old Crow cocktail. I knew at this moment that Dan would fit in perfectly at BOX.

4:50 p.m. The first casualty of the Challenge: Dan. He is asleep on the porch.

9:22 p.m. Paul is blackout, smoking cigarettes one after another in his room. He just asked me, "how you more drank than me?" For his case, he has indeed drank more than half a half gallon.

Friday

1;01 p.m. People have awaken, and people don't have recollection of the previous night. Although I know old BOX was here to rage.

7l05 p.m. Dan's testacles were just succombed to a vacuum cleaner; he did not awake from his pass out position.

Concluding Statements

If you were following this at all, you probably noticed that the journal came to an abrupt halt about halfway through the challenge. This is because we lost our cable and internet sometime late in the night Friday, which was almost certainly caused by something one of us did, although god knows who or what the hell caused it.

A quick recap will have to suffice. In total we consumed 7 half gallons in four nights (even though the fourth night no one drank a lot because I think we all felt as if we were on our death beds). A success in my book. The Old Crow Challenge Beer Can Golf tournament came to an abrupt halt when Paul quit after going 30 over par on the first 12 holes, then decided to chain smoke in his room. Old BOX members came over and graciously decided to throw all the Club Keno cards I had bagged up in trash bags (you might remember this from an earlier post which depicted my room filled entirely with Keno cards) and threw them all over the house. I'm pretty sure Al went to a party in nothing but his boxers, I was informed I was laying in an alleyway on the way to a bar, general debauchery, etc.

When I look back at last year's count of 8 half gallons in 5 days, I really wonder how we did it. They say the first time is always the best, and perhaps it was. I was feeling horrible after the second night, but at least could manage to drink, but I could barely get one drink of Old Crow down on the fourth day. I couldn't even ponder going a fifth day - as we did last year. Still, the challenge was a success, and as Paul and I concluded, I plan to continue this tradition every August for the rest of my life.

With the challenge over, we have a gruelling week-to-week 1/2 period where there won't be much going on. . . but everyday we inch closer and closer to the hallowed welcome week.

A Weekend for BOX Ages

The times that one feels truly in connection with BOX history are few and far between, but when those moments come, they are humbling. Most (maybe all with the absence of Brian?) current members have never met the founders of our proud establishment (hell, I barely knew the generation that preceded me), and there is relatively little personal connection remaining between the class of 2009 and those who first erected the infamous Beta Omega Chi letters on State Street. Regardless of the fact that many of us have never met eachother, some things do connect everyone that ever has lived in BOX or has been an associate of the place. Certain passed down rituals, excessive Thanksgiving party's, end of 1st semester Christmas celebrations, the bond of living in a shithole, and of course, tailgates. These are just a few of the phenomenons that connect all BOX generations. But I think what bonds all of us most is two things: drinking and friendship. I don't think you'd meet any two BOX members, whether they be from 2001 or from 2009, that couldn't sit down at a bar, have a beer, and instantly relate to one another. I know I, for one, love when an old BOX member comes back to the house, whether I know them or not, to get silly drunk (and most likely cause destruction to the place for old time's sake).

Drinking and frienship. Well, in my quest to do my best to uphold whatever tradition BOX has at the University of Michigan, I can lay down at night confident that we have upheld the drinking aspect of BOX lore. I don't doubt that several of us are some of the hardest drinkers on the entire campus. BOX's reputation at U of M: many hate us, girls find our house despicable, many admire us, many love us, and a select few join us as participants of this great house; but no one will deny that we are some of the finest drinkers the university has to offer. And I take the utmost pride in upholding this tradition.

Which brings me to my subject. The Second Annual Old Crow Challenge. While it is a new tradition in BOX, I rever it like it is one of the oldest. Why? Because it combines the two components that glue BOX generations together: drinking heavily and friendship. There's no two ways about it. . . what the Old Crow participants will endure this weekend could be matched by realtively few respectable human beings: a true bender that would put most people to shame. And while this is a tradition of the newest BOX generation (circa 2008), I would like to think that most historical BOX members would not only participate and succeed in, but rever as a legendary BOX tradition. At any rate, my endeavors this weekend to consume as much Old Crow Bourbon as possible will be in an attempt to solidify what I think BOX stands for: frienship and heavy alcohol consumption. It may not be a storied tradition, but in my book it's a quest that stands for everything BOX is. No matter our reputation, no one will doubt us as one of the heaviest drinking houses around.

As for the Old Crow Challenge, this blog will certainly be utilized to convey the events of the challenge as the four day bender commences. I shall drink for what BOX stands for this weekend. If you are in the area, you should clear your schedule to drink bourbon at BOX, and if you are far away being a real person, you should take a shot of bourbon in memorium.

This weekend, BOX will be exactly what the Beta Omega Chi letters stand for.

America

I love America. If you do also, please comment. It is my favorite country.

End of an Era (Beginning of Another)

As one thing comes to an end, another must begin. With the final exodus of a great deal of my good friends from last year, I was accompanied by much sadness. Brian left on Wednesday to become a professional, Bob Loblaw's Law Blog has been gone for nearly a month, our dear neighbors on both sides have also made their final exodus and of course there are countless others that have graduated and moved onto greener pastures. However, as I woke up today I was met with a friendly sight. Our good friends Craig, Jello, Justin and Ryan were in my living room. They were moving many of their valuables into our house for storage for a couple weeks before they can move into their new house (conveniently right next to us). Now our living room and porch are almost uninhabitable because they are encumbered by couches, desks, and other furniture. However, this is a small price to pay for such characters. I am truly giddy with excitement as to see how this upcoming tailgate season and the entire year unfold with such folk living next door.

Old Crow Challenge II

A week from today at this very hour, the bourbon will be flowing as the Second Annual Old Crow Challenge commences. Brace your livers.

A narrowly escaped buttrape

Ahhh, my first post from Seattle, and certainly not the last... but hopefully the last of this nature. As the title should suggest, I had an interesting night last night, and ended up victorious, barely escaping what would have been an almost surely tattered colon.

It all begins after the bars had closed in Seattle and I was making the long trek to my apartment from a friends apartment after I had walked her home (altogether now: "AWWWW HOW SWEET"). So I picked up a burrito on the way, all the while observing the vagrants and crazies babbling about meth and whatever else they do. I finally get to my apartment building and I scan myself in, fairly sure that no one was even near me at the time to get in behind me. I go over to check my mail, but something moves across the lobby out of the corner of my eye. I turn around and see nothing, and so begins just the tip of the next freaky 30 minutes. Keep in mind there is no concierge in this tower, the 24 hour concierge is in the tower adjacent to mine. So I have my mail, and I walk over to the elevator, and peer behind me around a corner as I do so, finding none other than a creepy old fat guy blatantly hiding against the wall with a phone to his ear, obviously not talking on the phone. This slightly perturbs me, so I keep on my b-line for the elevator, hoping that this guy wasn't going to join me. The doors open, and of course he hastily scuttles over to the elevator, almost ensuring my anal rape fate. This guy doesn't press a floor, just rides with me up to my floor, not saying a word as I am as far as possible from him, gearing up for a weird gay-hetero struggle. When I get to my floor I power walk it to my door, get in, and slam the door behind me, sure that my butt would live another day without penis near it. I do as anyone would do in this situation and break out the cold cuts, celebrating my victory, but just then I hear a faint knock on the door. It's 2:30 in the freaking morning.
"Who is it?"... I hear nothing, so I figure I just imagined it, and I dive into my black forest ham and mayo. Then maybe a minute later, another very faint knock. Now I'm freaked.
"WHO IS IT?!"
"Someone sent me here to see you" Says the person, extremely softly. Okay, now I go over to the door with a kitchen knife, preparing for some psycho to bust through the door and shit on my night. I go up to the peephole, and the dude has BLOCKED THE PEEPHOLE WITH HIS FINGER.
"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" As I deadbolt the door, not excited about this turn of events and fearing the worst... a homosexual man on PCP.
"Someone sent me here to see you" He says again, and this makes me back away from the door, grab my phone, and respond with
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, I DONT KNOW YOU"
After this, he decides to run down the hallway, and I immediately lock my windows and porch door, followed by a call to the concierge, letting him know that there is in fact a man on the loose in my tower with what are most likely gay intentions. Who knows what happened to the guy, but my night ends huddled in a corner of my bed, glad that my butt was safe and schlong-less.

Autumn Fast Approacheth

As we settle into the dog days of summer, it seems as if every day drags on longer and longer as my mind longs for the upcoming fall and all of the greatness that accompanies a new school year. At the same time, it seems as if it were only yesterday that Zola's blogpost detailing the "Most Anticipated Events of Summer" was published. Yet another college summer (my last) has passed by in the blink of an eye, August will be here in a couple of days, and the beginning of classes and football season is just a stones throw away. For me, it was a rather mild summer in terms of alcohol consumption and tomfoolery. But I guess any summer is hard to compare to last summer - when I had no responsibilities and drank nearly every night. But I would argue that a mild summer means good things are to come. Liver's should be rested and funds should be replenished for many, meaning that one will be that much more prepared for an onslaught of booze-inspired poor decision making this fall. And certainly, since the year will be many BOX members' last one in college, we will be prepared to make an appropriate exit from the undergraduate stage of our lives.

In homage to Zola's "Most Anticipated Events of Summer," which again, seems like yesterday, I have comprised a short-list of some big things that will all be happening within the next few weeks. It's a hell of a list we have to look forward to and uncork a new year with:

1. Aug. 13: The Old Crow Challenge (II). Last year, a fledgling tradition was born when three members of BOX embarked on a mission to finish 4(.5) gallons of bourbon whiskey in as many nights. Ever since the end of the challenge last August, BOX members have been yearning for this event like kids waiting for Christmas.

Unlike last year, there is no predetermined goal in mind. However, the general idea is that one should push the limit as to how much bourbon he can drink, and I truly mean push the limit as to how much one's body can physically take. Over the course of 4 days, a man is expected to spend very little time sober, as all of the guidelines of a bender pertain to this event. The hard-core participants will sleep very little, get excessively drunk twice in a day, and probably take a year or so off of their lives. Personally, I'm setting a bar for myself at 2 half gallons, which roughly comes out to a fifth a day... but we'll probably just see where it goes from there. I'm confident that the Friendly Neighborhood Drunk could probably polish off 3 handles in the four day timeslot.

2. Welcome Week(s). BOX members historically have taken the traditional college "welcome week" and turned it into a "welcome month". I remember last fall NotoriousPLC and I had a calendar and one day woke up to realize we had drank something like 17 days in a row; the winter semester ended up being like 30 out of 33 nights in a row drunk. Obviously the traditional welcome week is great for all of the parties, but somehow the drunkenness seems to keep playing out long after most students have settled into reality. As a general rule, I think most BOX members tend to live in a drunken haze until the last possible moment before something significant is actually due for classes. I expect this year to be no different, as many of us are seniors, and now can drink at the bars instead of by ourselves on those lonely Monday nights when everyone else on campus has started studying and you start feeling like a real alcoholic. Additionally, with a new group of drunks living right next door to us, and drunken DKE friends living 2 doors down, it certainly won't be hard to find someone to drink with this year, although most of us have proven that drinking by our lonesome is no strange occurrence.

3. (obviously) Tailgate season. If I was asked to paint a picture of my ideal heaven, it would be almost identical to Ann Arbor on a fall Saturday morning. Waking up at the crack of dawn to a glass of bourbon, drunken tailgates, thousands of maize-clad people walking by, the Wolverines running out of the tunnel at the Big House. I can honestly say that each and every football Saturday I've experienced in college will go down as one of the best days of my life. Ever. Nothing in the world compares to it. When I think about how much money I've spent to go here, and wonder how much I could've saved by going somewhere shittier, I think about football Saturday's. I would pay full tuition for the memories of football Saturday's alone. Hands down.

It really seems like only last fall that I was a freshman walking down State Street for my first game. As I went from frat to frat, and on to the stadium, I realized that my two favorite things in the world - Binge drinking and Michigan football - had been mixed to create an unrivaled atmosphere. Somehow, three years have come and gone in the blink of an eye, and I'm left with only one season left of these heavenly days. Let's make a few more memories, because I know in a couple of years we'll all be longing for these days... if we can remember any of it.