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.