Peace & Blessings: Brogina George Says Goodbye

Well folks, it’s about that time. After 6 years of shenanigans and semi intentionally avoiding the professional world I’m taking the plunge and heading into the real world. As of December I’ll be a real person, or as real a person as possible. I’d like to thank our alcoholic followers and the rest of the Brohio staff for all of the facebook/groupme/twitter entertainment. Thank you to Brick Street for keeping my glass full and the starry knights extra starry. Thank you to Bagel and Deli for late night feeding my face. Thank you Krishna for Krishna Sundays and Diarrhea Mondays. Thank you to that random sushi place that’s open at like 3 am when I’m too stoned to make food at home. Thank you townies for reminding me of how pretty I am on a regular basis. It’s been real, it’s been, fun, but it hasn’t been real fun. Stay strapped and never forget Brogina George.

Peace and Blessings.

-Brogina George 

Gems - THAT BALL DON'T LIE

          God bless Rasheed Wallace. The Knicks are fun as fuck to watch this year (I know, that's something I never thought I'd say either) and Wallace is just one of the reasons.  Aside from Bart Scott's "feels great, can't wait," my favorite thing to work into casual conversation is "ball don't lie." You obviously know Austin Rivers left Duke (prematurely, in my obviously not humble opinion) to go pro and was drafted by the Hornets. Rasheed is just making sure Doc's son feels welcome and included in the NBA with his classic "ball don't lie!" taunt during this missed free throw. Skip to 00:24 for the shot. 

Cam Newton Has Bieber Fever

This week’s NFL champ is Auburn grad Cam Newton. 

Speaking of Auburn, I couldn’t be more proud of USA gold medalist Ryan Lochte and his decision to choose Auburn for a pretty ridiculous upset in the LSU vs. Texas A&M game on ESPN College GameDay. He gets confused when he’s dry. Stay hawt Lochte. 

Anyway, Cam Newton gets props this week because I’m hoping it sends him some good karma to stop the Panthers from playing like crap.

Fact, this quarterback actually started off his college career at the University of Florida. Better fact, he was arrested for stealing a laptop from another student. Even better in order to avoid being arrested he threw the laptop out of his dorm window when the cops showed up. Call up the FBI slick rick is making moves.

After Newton’s little run in with the law he transferred to good old Blinn College. Where’s Blinn College you ask? I have no fucking idea. Finally after some good old-fashioned football and keeping his record clean he ended up at Auburn before putting on his big boy pants, winning the 2010 Heisman Trophy, and heading to the NFL.

What’s Cam up to today? Just throwing around the old pigskin and wearing actual burlap sacks aaaaand jamming out to some Justin Bieber…

                         

-Brogina George 

Fall, Excuse Me...Autumn

         It’s time to say goodbye. Warm weather, we bid you farewell with heavy hearts. It’s time to let go of the sundresses, lax pinnies, day drinking on porches and everything that warm weather brings to our little oasis in Oxford. 
          This is a bittersweet goodbye, though. Saying bye to girls in white pants means welcoming girls in yoga pants. Saying adios to Corona and summer ales means cracking open Oktoberfests and Pumpkinheads. Girls go ape shit for fall, excuse me, Autumn, and making a chick’s day is easy (apple) pickins. Sure, we all have to put up with each other’s instagrams of dead leaves but I don’t care who you are, fall means pumpkin spice EVERYTHING and that’s good news. 
          Hard to find too much to complain about when football is in full swing, hockey is starting up (College hockey at least. Fuck you, Gary Bettman) and the number of guys wearing sandals is going down. Now I'm just waiting for someone to get injured because they thought jumping off a roof into a leaf pile was a good idea. "No, guys, I GOT THIS." -Don Vito Broleone

How many pictures EXACTLY like this will we see? Setting the over/under at 300

          Sup betches, Don Vito covered pretty much everything for the bros. However, ladies, we have a few extra things we unfortunately have to say goodbye to during the fucking freezing winter months. First, say goodbye to using summer as an excuse to have shameless and/or meaningless summer flings. Say hello to boyfriend season. For those of us that choose this route, snag a man who isn't gonna suck to be with through Green Beer Day. Say goodbye to wine wednesdays with your girls because we'll either all be stuck shotgunning with our boys (not exactly complaining...yet) or big spooning a bottle of jack after a night as a fifth wheel at piano man. 

         But don't cry into your pumpkin spice latte just yet because you have a fucking pumpkin spice latte and that is nothing to ugly cry about. I won't even complain about the endless stream of Starbucks cups on my instagram feed because I am just as excited for those empty liquid calories. I don't wanna hear any of you bros complain about broads' overwhelming enthusiasm for autumn because you are all reaping the delicious benefits of our pumpkin and apple cider-centric baking compulsions. 

          My last complaint is about how the fuck to dress in this weather. I wake up with chattering teeth and bundle up like I'm a god damn eskimo and by the afternoon I've shed like three layers. My Tory Burch riding boots, Burberry scarf and J.Crew quilted vest were totes great decisions at 9 in the morning, but if it gets warmer during the day, there is def not enough room in my Vineyard Vines tote to lug that shit around (and I REFUSE to be "that bitch" who knocks into everyone in Dividends with her obnoxiously over-stuffed bag).

          But whatever, I'm stoked for fall and all of it's bullshit. Summer, you will be missed but I have to move on. So farewell, bikinis. So long, slip’n’slides. Hello, Halloween. Bring on the beer jackets. -Lindsay Brohan 

GEMS: To The Face

          My intent is to highlight an NFL player of the week each post however this couldn’t be ignored. Ian Rapoport deserves a little attention ladies and gents. This is good old Ian’s first season with the NFL network, and I have to say I’m impressed. After getting bopped in the face with a football on live television he handles himself like a total pro..

Did we just see that football Ian? Yes. We saw it. 

          I told you to check out the Texans vs. Packers. Betch don’t lie. Anyway on a lighter note here are some ridiculous NFL moments to make Monday feel a little less like a semi-invasive procedure. 

Peace and Blessings.

-Brogina George 

J.J. Watt: Buck as F#*$

         If you have a wiener and own a television chances are you’ve been tuning in to all the NFL action this season. (Especially with this NHL lockout going on…don’t even get me started.) More importantly you’ve probably noticed stud J.J. Watt absolutely tearing it up on the Texans. 

         As a lover of the New York Jets I love to hate this giant piece of man meat after he single handedly delivered us a loss, but that’s not all J.J. delivers. Apparently back in the day he used to be a pizza delivery boy. Saucy. 

         This Wisconsin boy born and raised is the real deal folks. This 6 ft 6in NFL Frankenstein weighs in at about 295 lbs. What else you might ask? This first round pick has mad ups…

         Fucked up right? This cyborg is a fuggin gem. Check out J.J. Watt and the Texans this Sunday at 8:20 PM ET when they take on the goddamn Packers. (Nothing grinds my gears more than those stupid effing foam cheese hats.) 

Peace and blessing sluts.

-Brogina George 

An Open Letter to ESPN

Dear ESPN,

            I think we should see other people. It’s not me, it’s you. I stayed faithful despite your ignorance of hockey. I still tuned in even when your one-track mind obsessed over Brett Favre and Tim Tebow. Fuck, I stayed even when you manufactured reasons to still talk about Tebow. I could honestly go on for days about what’s wrong with you (Rachel Nichols, cough) but I’ll spare you. 

          Now, however, you’ve gone too far. You've hired Frank fucking Caliendo to Sunday Countdown. That has to be a joke, right? Wrong. ESPN hired a goddamn COMEDIAN to an analysis/coverage show. When Caliendo is inevitably horrible at his new job, no one should be surprised because he sucked at his old gig too. I’d rather watch the creepy blue suit, bearded fantasy football guy’s commercials on loop than see Caliendo take bad twitter-esque (bad jokes in bad taste) commentary behind an ESPN desk.

            How can ESPN get away with this bullshit? They’re the only ones in the business. ESPN is king in the sports world. NBC is trying to horn in on the action with the NBC Sports Network but unless you love hockey and cycling exclusively, then you’ll be flipping to ESPN eventually. So who am I kidding? I will inevitably come crawling back to Scott Van Pelt (One of the few ESPN guys who I legitimately respect and enjoy) and Sage Steele. I will undoubtedly check Adam Schefter’s twitter feed for breaking football news and I will still turn on Sports Center every morning (because everyone knows that blue Powerade and Sports Center is the best hangover cure). Even though every major sports league’s television network does an infinitely better job, I will stay faithful to ESPN because I am a college student (re: baller on a budget). 

          So I’ll cling to your 30 for 30’s and your “This is Sports Center” ads and remember the good old days. I’ll hold on to the web gems and memories of Erin Andrews on the sidelines every fall Saturday. I’m ashamed of what you’ve turned me into, of how you treat me. So I’ll see you tonight, ESPN, probably after midnight when you are my only option. Please be gentle. 

-Don Vito Broleone 

Broner Jams - What Brohio Is Listening To

What Brohio Is Currently Listening To Right Meow

         So if you’re as sick as I am of hearing “Call Me Maybe,” and you’d like to branch out from listening to that Canadian she-devil, here are a few songs to update your music collection and get the party raging.

Macklemore - Thrift Shop

 

         If you’re not familiar with Macklemore, there’s your first mistake. But if you’re new to him, check out his stuff. He and Ryan Lewis are a fucking dream team. This is how hip-hop should be. His first full length album comes out October 9th. 

Kid Cudi - Just What I Am (featuring King Chip)

 

          The old Cudi is back, and I’m pumped. Let’s hope the rest of his new stuff is this great. And yes, Chip tha Ripper changed his name to King Chip.

Calvin Harris - Sweet Nothing (featuring Florence Welch)

 

         This man can’t make a song that doesn’t make you want to party. The video is a little strange, but the song is amazing nonetheless.

The Royal Concept - Gimme Twice

 

        Are these guys a huge ripoff of Phoenix? You better believe it. Do I care? Not really because this song is fucking amazing and it’s been a while since Phoenix came out with anything new. 

Kanye West - Clique (featuring Big Sean and Jay-Z)

        Kanye makes yet another song that is sure to get a lot of plays at the bar, and I don’t hate that at all. Ain’t nobody fuckin’ with my clique. clique. clique. clique. clique.

Dimitri Vegas, Moguai & Like Mike - Mammoth

         This song technically isn’t out yet, but the 1:30 of it that is out is fucking unreal. I’m hoping to hear part of this at Barstool Blackout coming up. Keep an eye out for the full version.

Martin Sloevig - The Night Out

         I feel like this song was insanely overlooked. I really wouldn’t mind seeing it get some play in the bars. Cough cough. PLAY THIS IN THE BARS, BARS! And the ass shaking at 2:07 is how you hypnotize men, ladies.

J Cole - I’m a Fool

          J Cole comes back from his short hiatus with a solid song featuring Ceelo Green. Can’t wait to hear some more new stuff from J Cole though.

Big Sean - How it Feel

          Big Sean came out with his new mixtape Detroit and this is by far his strongest song out of the new stuff.

Rihanna - Cockiness Remix ft. A$AP ROCKY

          This song is a giant innuendo, but A$AP’s short verse on this song makes it. Plus, bitches love Rihanna.

          Have fun raging to these songs and I’ll get back to you with some more soon.

--The Big Lebroski.

Real Bros Go Deeper Than Just the Tip

          Every time you read a brotip, a full beer gets spilled. These useless “tips” are just shit a real bro would already know but they slap a number on it and call it wisdom. Their pathetic excuses for advice are a waste of your time. Brotips are basically like fortune cookies; instead of saying ‘in bed’ after them, just add, ‘no shit, dude.’ 

         I’ll try not to be as redundant as they are so here are some of my personal favorites: 

Wow. I feel fucking inspired. Do you feel inspired? 

I'm pretty sure no one has ever let a single grade define them.
(Just kidding, read Angelina Brolie's post about Asians.)

Gems: Greatest Sports Center Ad Ever?

ESPN may worship Tebow more than Timmy loves Jesus and ignore the entire sport of hockey but there is one thing they've always done right; their ads. This one is pure gold. This is John fucking Clayton. This is Sports Center. 

An Open Letter to Ronnie Baker

          (All you need to know is this is his business card and the back had a lovely HANDWRITTEN note: “From your 2012 Valentine”)

          Dearest Ronnie,


          I'm sure you don’t remember me, but I would like to extend my thanks for what could be the greatest gem I acquired second semester last year. While cleaning out the handbags I regularly black out with I found the beauty that is your business card. The details are quite hazy, but I remember you ever so sweetly handing these out to me and my friends at a certain fraternity house. I understand you were not a member of said house, in fact, you were a GDI looking to party and get dome. Until this moment I am not entirely sure you meant this as a joke, since honestly you seemed like a raging tool.

         That being said, I have some things I’d like to clear up. While I love the Anchorman quote, this shit has to actually work every time right?! My friend was more than happy to casually make out with you on the sole basis you had this fucking card. If she hadn't stepped up I would’ve given you some groping privileges just for the effort. How much did you pay for these? Are the girls that go for this straight 10s? You have to have been kicked out of numerous frats for going in and taking their slams, right? Questions will become answers.

        Make no mistake, I commend the fuck out of you and your ample balls. I mean look at this fucking thing, a pug over your junk is absolute gold. Using your real face on a chiseled piece of man meat? You, Ronnie Baker, are in-fucking-deed a gentleman and a scholar. Let us not forget to mention the fact that you were clearly there to strictly pick up girls, this was made more than obvious when you decided to BYOB, which if I remember correctly was a half consumed case of warm keystone. 


          Am I wrong in assuming this kid is going knuckles deep in poon every weekend?! Am I the only girl that would drunkenly think this kid is the next Ryan Reynolds for using a ploy like this? Its bloody brilliant and GDItastic. Don’t have a frat to get you chicks? Crash parties, throw a pug over man junk and superimpose your face onto a Chippendale’s stripper (and bring your own lukewarm crushed case of stones). Sure it may not get him his first choice in a hook up. Hell, maybe it gets his absolute last choice and the girl is barely a 6, but cumming in last is better than not at all.

          If you aren’t adding this kid on facebook and putting him in your phone to drunk dial 4 nights a week begging for dick then this post isn’t doing what I intended––getting Ronnie Baker the attention and love that he rightly deserves. 


         You deserve 72 virgins and a gold star for shamelessly rolling into frats you aren’t a part of and handing out this pussy hooking card with what I believe to be your real name, number, and facebook. You even took the time to handwrite notes on the back for fucks sake! I have no idea how old you are, but I’m praying for the sake of every drunk, lonely girl on campus you have yet to graduate. Keep on Keeping on Ronnie.

         Love,

         Lindsay Brohan

p.s. The pug and handwritten note were just the right amount of input before hitting the trying too hard threshold. Kudos.

p.p.s. the fact that your facebook tag truly is “yourpops” is not only admirable, but so fittingly douchey.


          

Rage-ology 101

          ATTENTION FRESHMEN! Here are two drinking games to play when boredom or procrastination strikes and to keep our great institution in the top 10 party schools in the nation. We’ll be bringing you a couple drinking games every week along with a drink or two to try when you hit the bars. Work hard, play harder.

Drinking Games of the Week

1) Thumper

          Start by gathering around a table that will fit you and all your friends. The sturdier the table, the better. You’re all about to pound on the table, so you don’t want your drink to fall off or spill everywhere. If you can’t find a table that doesn’t shake a lot and isn’t structurally horrible, you can just keep your drink on the floor, under the table, or behind you so you don’t kick anyone’s drink over. We all know there’s a special place in hell for people that waste alcohol.
         Everyone needs to come up with a good hand or body motion. The funnier, the better. A good pelvic thrust with a look of constipation on your face? Perfect. Rubbing your nipples while your tongue is hanging out? Even better. The goal of the game is to get someone to mess up while recreating your motion or trying to , causing them to drink.
         Ok, so now that you’ve come up with your motion, go around the table (doesn’t matter what direction) and show everyone your motion. Make sure you’re not just laughing at everyone’s motion and try to remember at least a handful of them, you’ll need to know at least one person’s so you don’t have to drink.
         Now the game begins, someone volunteers to begin and utters the magical Thumper words while everyone pounds on the table with their hands. The phrase is as follows:

Person starting: “WHAT’S THE NAME OF THE GAME?!" 

Everyone else: “THUMPER!” 

Person starting: “WHY DO WE PLAY IT?!" 

Everyone else: “TO GET FUCKED UP!” 

Person starting: “HOW FUCKED UP?!” 

Everyone else: “REAL FUCKED UP!”

         Now that that’s over, the person starting does his motion, followed by someone else’s, thus passing the motion to someone else. This person now has to do their motion, followed by someone else’s. If they fuck up, then they drink. It’s as simple as that. Keep going around the circle till someone messes up, and enjoy getting “REAL FUCKED UP!”

If you’re more of a visual learner, here’s a PG rated YouTube video of the game. I highly encourage the use of my Thumper chant though.

2) Bet Your Liver

         Feeling lucky? Try out Bet Your Liver. You’ll need a deck of cards and the biggest cup or pitcher you can find.
        Grab the biggest beer stein or pitcher you have, the bigger the better. Place the pitcher or whatever you chose in the middle of the table where you and all your friends are sitting. Next, take the deck of cards and spread them around the pitcher. Each person takes turn going around the table, betting an amount of beer by pouring the beer into the pitcher. After the person places their bet, they will either choose “Red” or “Black”. If the card is “Red” and they chose “Red” then they don’t have to drink and play moves to the next person. If they bet wrong though, they have to drink all the beer that’s in the pitcher. Play continues until someone bets wrong, and bets continue till the pitcher fills up. That’s why you want to have the biggest pitcher you can get a hold of.

         This game’s pretty easy to play and you can even play it at beat the clock as long as someone has a deck of cards and an empty pitcher. The empty pitcher should be the easiest part to find though.

Drinks of the Week

          We’ll give you guys a drink every week to branch out and try at any of the local watering holes.

Old Fashioned

         We’re starting off with a proper gentleman’s drink. This is the drink that a man like Don Draper would (and does) drink. Is it a little tedious to drink? Yeah. But does it taste delicious when you make the perfect one? You better fucking believe it. I’ve been on a mission to find the perfect one since I’ve been able to bar hop. Let me tell you folks, a good Old Fashioned is not something that is easy to find. If you’re feeling ballsy and want to try and make one for yourself, here’s a recipe to get you started. Feel free to modify it to taste, of course.

• 2 oz Bourbon: Use whatever you find tastes best.
• 2 dashes bitters
• 1 splash water
• 1 sugar cube
• 1 maraschino cherry
• 1 orange wedge

         Mix sugar, water and angostura bitters in an old-fashioned glass. Drop in a cherry and an orange wedge. Muddle into a paste using a muddler or the back end of a spoon. Pour in bourbon, fill with ice cubes, and stir.




Until Next Week,
The Big Lebroski

New Beer Mile World Record

Learn this name: Nick Symmonds.

He's no Steve Prefontaine but he is a bro you need to fucking know. He represented the United States in the Olympics this summer, but more importantly, he just set the world record for the beer mile. He ran it in five minutes and nineteen seconds. What exactly is a beer mile? Simple enough, run a mile, but put down an entire beer between each lap..and keep em down. 5:19  is an impressive mile time...if you're a high school girl, but add chugging 4 beers into the mix and it's actually insane. The kid doesn't throw up either. He downs the first brewski in 8 seconds and the next three cans don't take him much longer. I wish they recorded his splits because I guarantee that his lap times are crazyfuckingfast. I wanna see Miami Track & Field do this. Shit, I wanna see an entire drunken track meet. How dope would a beer 4X100 be? The answer is DOPE. Make it happen, bros. 

Don't know why TMZ is covering this but here's the video. 

Kate Upton Fridays: The Original

Happy Kate Upton Friday bros.

Here's footage from Upton's first photoshoot with SI that launched her into all of our dreams.

NEW VIDEO: Kate Upton's Many Talents

We know that it's not Friday, but this video couldn't wait until the end of the week. Happy Wednesday bros.

Airport People Watching

I’m sitting at Gate C3 for a flight that was supposed to take off nearly three hours ago. After realizing that I would be spending a good portion of my day here, I wasn’t going to pass up this great opportunity to people watch. International airports are by far the primo venue for people watching, with Wal-Mart as the only other contender.  

After sitting in this same seat for hours now, I’ve managed to catalogue some of the types of people that you will encounter on your next trip to the airport.

The Confused Asian Family

They can’t seem to find their way out of a paper bag. Donning large multi-colored visors and fanny-packs, both mother and father try to navigate their way through the concourse with large maps as their children follow 15 feet behind them. Judging by the tone of the father’s Mandarin, (or maybe Japanese. Or Korean. Fuck if I know the difference) he’s yelling at his wife, probably because she gave him shitty directions in the first place. I can only assume they found their gate…or the Panda Express.

Black Guy Wearing a Bluetooth

This guy must be having the best conversation of his life with his friend Trayvon because he is laughing his ass off, giving zero fucks about the people around him. Faithful Bluetooth users like this guy are often mistaken as schizophrenics when people-watchers, like myself, don’t notice the small flashing blue light coming from their ear. When I first saw this guy I said to myself, “Oh shit. Another crazy black dude having a full fledged conversation with himself.” (Which is not that unusual considering that this is the Cleveland International Airport). If you ever end up sitting next to this guy waiting at your gate, avoid all conversation. You never know if he’s talking to you or Trayvon.

Creepy Guy Wearing a Fedora

No one really knows how this dude got through security but he managed to scrape by looking creepy as all hell with his fedora and his Harry Carey glasses. I can understand if this description was for a really old dude who just wants to die in peace. But this creeper is barely 40 and looks like one of those sex offenders you see sitting in a kitchen with Chris Hansen. Try to have your escape route planned if he attempts to sit within 10 feet of you.

The Businessman

He’s the master of all air travel with platinum status and a perfectly packed rolling carry-on. He’s constantly on his iPhone and doesn’t give two shits if he accidently knocks over your $6 cup of coffee (which the fucker did to me. He didn’t apologize either. He just casually said, “That’ll be a tough cleanup.”) Fuck this guy.

White Couple With Too Many Children

Birth control was never an option for these fools. Carting around 5 children under the age of 6 to a fucking airport is a trip straight from hell in my eyes. Their snot nosed children run around the gate like it’s a goddamn Chuckie Cheese while mom is busy feeding the youngest and father-of-the-year over here is playing Angry Birds on his iPhone. If you’re lucky enough to be on the flight with this family you better have the valume on standby.

The Couple That Look Like They’re On The Amazing Race

Unless you’re on a month long journey though the Appalachian Mountains, there is essentially no need to have all of your belongings in huge hiking backpacks at a fucking airport. Just like our confused Asian family, they too have maps out and checking their surroundings, probably looking for their next clue or to find the nearest Whole Foods to stock up on some kale.

The Overly Authoritative TSA Officer

Going through airport security is already the biggest pain in the ass of your trip, and this guy is out there to make it even worse. This police academy failure most likely ended up here after his Mom kicked him out of her basement after he was fired from being a mall cop. He’s the dude that gives everyone dirty looks no matter their gender, age, size or color. Forgot to take off your belt before you went in the scanner? Well your fucked, because this guy over here is trained to believe you’re a terrorist and is about to cavity search your ass.

Terrorist hunting 101.

Next time you head to the airport you might want to pause the iPod and people watch. It’s a very culturally liberating experience. But take my advice: do it at a distance. You don’t want to attract any of these fuckers who may have a question regarding directions or just wanting to talk to you.

I hope they serve scotch on the plane.

-Ron Brogundy

Introducing: Kate Upton Fridays

          We're happy to welcome you to our newest weekly feature: Kate Upton Friday. I'm not gonna waste your time, here's the infamous cat daddy vid. Enjoy. We know we did. 

Call me maybe. 

Respect the Cinco

“Twas the night before Cinco de Mayo, and all through the cabana,

No music was playing, not even Santana.

All three of our families all slept in one bed,

While visions of citizenship danced in our heads.”

The first weekend in May has always been one of my favorite American holidays. Yes, I said an American holiday. To much of the world’s confusion, Cinco De Mayo is celebrated more in the great USA than it is to our brownish neighbors in Mexico.

Yes, I actually took the time to research this shit. Well, by research, I mean Wikipedia-ing the term “Cinco-De-Mayo”. Turns out, 4,000 Mexican troops kicked the shit out of 8,000 French fag soldiers on May the 5th in 1800-something in a small town near Cancun. So basically, this holiday is celebrating the defeat of the French, which I am more than happy to drink to.

But why is this holiday even celebrated in America when our asses weren’t even there fighting? Well, fuck if I know and neither does Wikipedia. They said it was something “cultural”. Yeah, cultural in the sense that millions of them are now living here and most likely mowing my lawn as I type this. But this holiday did bring something great to shitty convenient stores near you: the new Bud Light Lime-a-Rita.

Did you think the BL Plats were a game changer? Well here’s their Mexican cousin

Budweiser has had an amazing year when it comes to mixing up the beer game. The BL Platinums are in all honesty the biggest game changer of 2012. Their newest concoction is not beer, yet does not contain any tequila. It falls under that semi-retarded category that Four Loko’s are considered, which is more commonly known as malt liquor.

The label says “served best over ice”. Yeah, so is premium scotch. Would you drink your Four Loko out of wine glass? That’s what I thought. So I decided to crack it open and chug. My first thoughts were not that bad. The 8% alcohol by volume is kept under control by the sweet marg flavor. And I couldn’t really taste any beer. The thing that caught me most off guard was the size. It’s an 8oz. can, similar to the size of the tomato juice your grandma is forced to drink in her nursing home. Not exactly sure what Bud was thinking when they put it in this miniature can. Easy storage/transportation/shotgunning? Or maybe for grandma? Again, fuck if I know.

The size comparison. I switched to the Patrón after I finished my BL Ritas

Well, I’m already five BL Ritas deep as I’m writing this article, and they’re getting the job done. That Patrón though is staring at me… Here’s my final take on Bud’s newest creation: Bros, only drink them on the Cinco. Other than this upcoming fiesta, make sure to leave the BL Ritas for the slams.

-Ron Brogundy

Shit Asians Do and why we Love Them For It (…sort of)

Disclaimer: This is not meant to be discriminatory or malicious in any way shape or form. It is simply paying homage to the oddities of the hardest workers at Miami University, and quite possibly the world. Side note: I hooked up with an asian once (1/2 asian.. but it still counts, right?)

Running Everywhere

For reasons unknown, Asians always seem to be in a hurry. It might be because they don’t like to waste time because their 26 credit hours are catching up to them, or maybe it’s a conditioned response ever since Godzilla hit Tokyo circa 1998, who knows. Regardless, no one can deny the fact that their size 5 feet are 95% of the time most likely in a dead sprint. Normally this wouldn’t bother me, because I’m all for running and being active (…..lol jk)  but the way they run, in particular the 80 pound girls, is a sight in and of itself. Whether it’s on the track in their pocketless Apple Bottom jeans, or from the printer to their 4 computers in Club King, their arms have this strange anomaly that make them unable to move from their sides. Getting tunnel vision must also be a side effect, because I swear I’ve almost been run over by them at least 10 times. Moral of the story: if a small Asian man seems to be headed in your direction, move out of the fucking way because Su Chong’s on a mission.

Umbrellas in every kind of weather

The epitome of just how many fucks Asians give can be seen in their blatant disregard for the correct use of an umbrella. Sure, they bust their hello kitty or panda umbrellas with ears when it’s raining out just like the rest of us, but the fun doesn’t stop there. I may be able to look past the fact that I’ve seen a few carrying them around when its snowing, but while every Miami girl is laying out in central quad and rocking shorts and a tank top as soon as the sun comes out, Asians can be seen walking around with umbrellas hiding from it. Rumor has it that in Asia tan skin equates you to a lower class in society… but hello, it’s the 2000’s and you’re in America now. Give it up already.  We’ve got sunscreen for that shit.

Ruining the curve

Quite possibly the main reason all university students secretly hate Asians. Nevermind the fact that I can’t do 10 minutes worth of studying without mass texting all the people I know with adderall… but Asians take studying to a new extreme. When they’re not sleeping in the library, breaking a sweat in their intense ping pong or badminton tournaments, or smoking outside every public building they see, they’re tearing shit up on every test they take and raping the educational system in the ass. How they have perfected the art of getting straight A’s without going to class while simultaneously fucking the rest of us normal kids out of a good curve is something I will never understand. Well played you sick fucks, well played.

-Angelina Brolie

He's Ron Brogundy? A Rookie's Debut.

Ahhh, it’s the last week in Oxford. Everyone has summer on their minds. Freedom, maybe a source of income, but mostly planning trips to friends’ beach houses where heavy drinking and other shenanigans will take place. But there is one giant cock block preventing you from truly enjoying these glorious summer days. FINALS.

That heavy procrastination period after Spring break and the Tuesday through Saturday binge drinking sessions with your bros are starting to catch up to you. A slight panic attack ensues when you realize that your inventory of adderall is starting to diminish.

The thought of actually sitting down and studying without the assistance of modern chemistry is eating you from the inside. To your surprise, you find that your reserves are in the black and decide to head to King for your 12-hour study session that you hope will be almost comparable to that of an Asian bio-medical-engineering student.

The exam that you will be sexually assaulting in the morning won’t even know what’s coming. But for the rest of the week, you need some serious planning. How will you use the rest of your XR reserves? Will you hit up the bars and celebrate your conquering of the dreaded exams? Well it’s only Wednesday fuckers. Here’s my mid-week guide to help all of you enjoy your last week in the OxBox, and how to not fuck up your life with exams.

1. If you’ve already left Oxford, fuck you. Yes, we all understand that you only had 2 exams and they both happened to be on Monday. We get it because you told everyone you fucking know, making everyone around jealous on the outside. On the inside we’re all thinking, “Wow, you get to go home early and hang out with your cool ass community college friends for three to six more weeks until all of your real friends who actually go to college come home. I’m really, really jealous.”

2. Snag a table at King Café to get your shit done. The solitary confinement of the third floor is reserved for the previously mentioned token Asian kid. You’ve got one more week with your bros. Study together.

3. Don’t go to Kofenya. Unless you want to be surrounded by liberals, geeds, hipsters and the art history majors.

(If you decide to go there, do me a favor: tell the long-haired-tattooed hippie behind the counter that Japanese poetry sucks dick and that we won the war.)

 4. Sell your goddamm textbooks. I listened in to a conversation between two geeds in line at Dividends a couple of days ago. This is what I recall:

 Geed 1: “You know, I really think I should save my Accounting book. I mean, it could come in handy in the future.”

Geed 2: “Yeah that’s a good idea. So much better than selling it to some, like, corporation.”

  Selling your textbooks, after buying them at the beginning of the semester and maybe using them twice, is a genius, almost magical concept. Early in the day you have a 300 page worthless hunk of tree, filled with equations that resemble something only the previously mentioned token Asian kid would understand, and it has the potential to be transformed into 20+ shots waiting to be ripped at Brick.

Long story short, don’t keep your books; sell them for booze.

5. Stay in Oxford even if you’re in the same boat as the bitch in number 1. The perks of going home early at this point outweigh your last week of raging. Savor your last week with your bros, get shitfaced at as many bars as possible, maybe meet some new slams, eat at one of the nicer establishments, and try new things. You’ll be away from this place for almost 4 months. Leave your mark. A Sunday afternoon departure never hurt anyone.

All of this daydreaming sounds nice on this word document and in my brain. But really, get your shit done. Daddy’s connections only go so far when you’re looking for job in the real world. Get some level of a GPA that, if the decimal place were moved, would be a kickass BAC.

-Ron Brogundy