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.