Hiatus

Dear loyal reader,

I write to you in the oh-so-enjoyable state of waking up in the morning still drunk (side note: I hear Andy vomiting for about the 4th time this morning - is this amateur hour?). Anyways, I will refrain from detailing the really questionable decisions I made last night, for I have important news to relate.

I know that we have flocks of daily readers, and I have some bad news for you. For the next 7 days, the authors of this acclaimed blog will be off on spring break that the University of Michigan decides to coincide with absolutely no other schools. This particular author, along with several other authors of this blog, will be venturing to the land of Dixie to frat some faces off for 7 strait days. Therefore, there will be a week you will have to endure without blog posts. I know, sad.

I hope you can endure this week-long stretch. If you can, I promise you that there will be posts of ungodliness, debauchery, and poor-decisions post-spring break. That is . . . if we all survive.

In the next 7 days I plan to spend about 7 hours sober, approximately one hour per day. I plan to consume about 4 half gallons myself. I plan to take at least 1 year off of my already shortened life. I plan to make some of the most questionable decisions of my life. My only goal is to avoid what I did last spring break, hooking up with this:




Anyways, I hope I can return alive to you, although there is probably a good chance that I black out and get eaten by a shark or jellyfish. I'll leave you with something that should satisfy you for seven days, courtesy of the one and only:

"Well ask me why I'm drunk alla' time,
It levels my head and eases my mind.
I just walk along and stroll and sing,
I see better days and do better things." - Robert Zimmerman



I'm off to erase seven days of my life,

Love,

Brickstreet

One of the housemates got laid last night.... I hope it went like this.

Perhaps I Should Reconsider My Game?

As anyone who has ever dwelled in this poor excuse for living quarters knows, no act of bringing a female back to the home ever goes unnoticed (thanks to paper-thin walls and the fact that there is only one escape route).

Last evening I awoke from my slumber only to hear a loud ruckus coming from one of my roommates (who will remain nameless) and a female companion arriving home from the bars at about 2 a.m. After spitting game about Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, bragging about blogging, and being told by this female "Don't blog now, you can blog about it tomorrow," I was certain that my roommate had totally blown this miserable attempt at getting this girl into bed with him. To my great surprise, though, these tactics apparently worked, and the aforementioned roommate somehow managed to seal the deal with this broadstreet (I kid you not, this is exactly how it went down).

After a brief silence, assuming that the two had passed out, I attempted to return to my slumber. Shortly thereafter, though, I was startled by a scream from said roommate: "FINISHED! I'M THE MAN!" After what I would presume to be a confused silence by the woman-friend, I could only chuckle to myself about what just occured. I dare say BOX house was close to its first Bill Nye the Science Guy Experience.


I'm sorry for bringing this event to your attention, but I felt obligated to historicize this great conquest.

Two Alcoholics Meet

This is what happens when two people meet who don't expect to see the other person's birthday. REALLY!

We Don't Just Blackout. . .

A brief interaction that happened between myself and my cousin, in which he shares his opinion of what the levels of inebriation are at BOX. I found it quite humorous, probably because it is true.

Frank: "I want to get 'BOX' drunk tonight".
Brick: "So you mean blackout?"
Frank: "No. I've been blackout before, and I've been to BOX before. BOX is more of a near-death experience."

Beyond FLASB09

While Florida Spring Break 2009, FLASB09 looms only a week away, the prospects for March and remainder of the semester hold a great deal of hope.

St. Patty's Day: Last year I awoke at the early morning hour of 5am with a few other good friends and drank Guinness and other beer for several hours until hitting the street around 9am. Much to my surprise, the entire campus was out and about. In fact, this is the singular day during the second semester where the whole campus is out in similar fashion to a big tailgate. It is a difficult task to blackout twice in a single day, but I accomplished this goal along with several other BOX members and good friends. This day will be full of outrageous events that will certainly fill the blog with stories of the strangest and most absurd nature.

Brick's Birthday March 24: The drinking legend that is Brick, turns the coveted age of 21 and well needless to say "Shit is going to get Real Weird!" I expect to see him in a state that rivals the most reckless of drunks.

Beer Parade: While I am only an infantile member to this establishment, the legend of Beer Parade and the ensuing party has been made evidently clear. It entails a parade in the morning hours to all of our dearest friends' houses and ends at BOX with literally all-day drinking festivities and games-followed by a party in the night time hours.

Maize vs Blue Tailgate: In preparation for the 2009 football season BOX will be hosting probably the only tailgate for the preseason Maize vs Blue Game. While attendance for this event will certainly not rival an actual tailgate, there has been rumor of a keg race between a Maize keg and a Blue keg. Also, what is more novel than tailgating for a game in which Michigan can beat itself. Yours truly is currently undecided as to who he will be rooting for. Maize or Blue?

Hash Bash: While I normally abstain from such activities the event is widely anticipated and attended from not only U of M students, but from people across the nation. Surely, hippies and other people will offer enough entertainment for laughs.

I hope to see some of my dear followers at least a few of the following events, but for now I will simply say that if FLASB09 is survived by all those who are attending these events will surely be of the utmost flamboyant shows of terrible manners and crude revelry.

I'm Hulk Hogan Bitch

You may be asking yourself, why is Brick posting a picture of a flying wrestling move?

Reader, usually I do crazy shit all the time and I wake up the next morning and shrug it off to the fact that I'm always doing stupid things while intoxicated. Not this time. This morning is one of the rare mornings when I wake up and I am actually impressed with the feats I have pulled off from the previous eve. It's a morning when I want to make myself a hangover-killer and drink to myself.

Back to the image. A few fortunate souls were lucky enough to be walking past our house last night when the flying Brick leg drop occurred. We've had this new beer pong table for about 2 weeks now, and ever since its creation there had always been a thought in the back of my mind that it would be really fun to jump off our porch balcony on to this wooden surface. My brilliant self decided that last night the beer pong table had to die. So, for a brief moment, I stopped as many passers-by as I could and informed them that they were going to witness the famous Hulk Hogan in action. I then proceeded to climb our porch balcony, make an attempt at shouting Hulk Hogan-esque ravings, then flew through the air with a flying leg drop, only to come crashing down through our beer pong table and onto the hard surface. I believe I layed in that position for quite some time. My back does not feel good this morn.


I believe I owe the house one beer pong table.

Brick: 1
Beer Pong Table: 0

Times in a Man's Life

There comes a time in every man's life when he must stare adversity in the face and overcome against all odds. In history, athletes have had this feeling before the biggest games of their careers, soldiers share the feeling on the eve of great battle. I, your author will in approximately 1 hour attempt such a feat. 3 CSI's will be my foe and I will allocate only 4 hours to defeat them. I know my reader may be saying to him or herself: "No, don't do it. You have so much to live for." But I intend to defeat my adversary and vanquish all three in that brief time span. Good bye, your luck will be needed.

Things that Can be Found during BOX Cleaning

After a long weekend of heavy drinking and poor-decision making, it is comforting to come home to a nice, clean, fresh-smelling house where you calm yourself and try and forget the regrettable fact that you have missed all three of your Monday classes. Unfortunately for those of us living in this resort -- which probably doesn't meet the sanitary standards of the pig pen at the Detroit Zoo -- we are not blessed with luxuries of that sort.

So today I put my cleaning hand to the task. This endeavor is no easy task. I am in no way exaggerating when I say that you can find a beer can in literally every possible place a beer can could fit. Nor am I exaggerating when I say that I would rather have cooking utensils that were washed with Boo Weekley's tobacco spit than I would utensils that were washed in our cesspool that is supposedly a sink. Perhaps worst of all is that every day our tiled floor begins to look more and more like the dirt-covered terrain of the Michigan northwoods. Perhaps this is because our mop is out of use because our mop bucket is filled with beer, urine, hot dogs, and who knows what else. No, cleaning and/or living at the BOX during sober periods is no stroll in the park.

However, while I was cleaning this evening I was suddenly struck with pride in my abode. As I was cleaning out the garbage from the second floor, I discovered a mysterious unopened DVD. A smile came to my face when I saw that said DVD was in fact "White Butt's Outdoors" (6 straight hours of anal penetration). Only in this abode could I find such an incredible artifact from who knows when.

So if you are a pornography fan of the anal or outdoor variety, be sure to stop on by. Because "White Butt's Outdoors" is now available at any time here in our pigpen.

Super Bowl gets Super Drunk

Lounging around all day yesterday nursing a hangover, a peculiar occurrence happened. I had been reluctant to drink and Brick was left as the lone soldier parading toward debauchery during the game. It was halfway through the third quarter when I got a mysterious phone call from a good friend. David Axelson sent his regards and wanted to know if BOX could assist in a troublesome pony-keg that needed to be consumed that night. The news of this happening lifted my spirits and my hangover. I asked the roomies, but unfortunately the previous nights blackout of literally every house member left few willing souls to assist in the annihilation of a pony.

I called Brick over from the neighbors' house and asked if he would wander down a road of tomfoolery with me. Of course, he could be trusted to assist in this venture. I found Brick a bit toasted, but not bad with everything considered. We dressed up into silly outfits of dress jackets, bow ties and sunhats. Upon entering the humble abode, we were greeted with about a dozen people of varying levels of drunkenness and a series of giggles due to our strange appearance. Knowing that I was well behind I charged at the pony with a strong effort. Within an hour I had made considerable progress on my own status and caused significant damage to the pony.

Needless to say immediately after the conclusion of the game, further debauchery and drinking games ensued. BOX house has never been known for its beer pong skills and your author himself is one of the most miserable players; however, this does not stop BOX from dabbling in a pong game or two. 4 hours, the departure of all guests with the exception of Brick and your author, several gargoyles (a form of keg stand), consistent BOX defeats in pong and several shows of dancing hilarity later the night ended. This dancing hilarity included, but was not limited to the fisherman/fish hook, lawn mowers, Irish jigs and some strange marching dance that Dave and I created. When the night concluded the scene was as follows: Dave and Brick were unconscious casualties of the pony, Ting poured the last cup of it and I was seeing two of just about everything in the room.

Buttraped again

So this morning I woke up from a long night of drinking and marveled at the many stamps on my hands from the lovely bars at Michigan. This was all well and good until I went to pee, and noticed a brown jug stamp on my inner thigh, right next to master p. How did I get this stamp there you ask? This is quite the conundrum, and I am utterly clueless. Usually this would be a good thing, hey, some girl fellashed me and stamped her territory, schwing. Unfortunately, the people that have said stamps are large bouncers... none of them being women. Dammit. At least my butt is alright.

Shibber Me Timbers

12:30. The decision has been made to drink while doing my Stats homework.

First shot:

47. At 1:28 p.m. Thank God I'm a country boy.

5:09 p.m. I have undoubtedly failed at life.

Lost count of shots.

perhaps # 50. To boss attack, the girl that i'm marrying.