20 Things to Do Before You Graduate

1. Buy a case. Get your backpack. Grab some brothers and friends. Late one night, visit King Library, the Seal, Upham Arch, Bishop Woods, FSB, Cook, et al; slam a Natty each stop. The Campus Crawl, everyone.
2. Slam a GDI. Some are quite good and come with the added bonus of not dealing with her nagging SO-RAWR-ITY sisters.
3. Piss on your rival fraternity’s house.
4. Get a VIP card to Brick.
5. Does CJ’s still have Hot Pockets? I haven’t had one in awhile. Whatever. If they do, get one (and free food poisoning, too!)
6. Play intramurals drunk.
7. Slam an old flame.
8. Invest in a water balloon launcher. Proceed.
9. Go to class drunk.
10. Steal a Brick from High St. While some might consider it cheesy, it’ll be a nice reminder of Oxford when you are slaving away in a 9 to 5 next year.
11. Punch a townie.
12. Get punched by a townie. Sue. Congratulations, you now own a pickup truck!
13. Sneak your way through FSB and onto Roger’s rooftop deck. Legendary.
14. Play a few rounds of campus golf. Aim for bottom-tiers and geeds.
15. Poo Dollar.
16. Get a Beer Tower. Just fucking kidding.
17. Slam your rival fraternity’s sweetheart.
18. Pizza Hut Lunch Buffet. Vastly underrated.
19. Slam a freshman.
20. Don’t graduate.

-Sandy Brofax. 

Word to the Wise: Why Women Love Assholes

          I grew up as one of those kids who always tried to be “the nice guy.” The one that talked to the pretty girls and, although always did well for himself, somehow failed to bat truly top-tier (hard to imagine that now, right?) I was that guy who would pick up the call from his smokeshow friend at any hour of the day and let her rant end-on-end about whatever asshole with which she was currently involved. I saw the tears, I heard the cries, but the next thing I knew, all was well with her and I was back to square one.

            This behavior continued for many years. Having manifested itself throughout the early stages of high school, it ended when I began dating a nice gal at the end of my junior year. She went to a different high school and was (still is, in fact) a lovely gal all-around.

            At the conclusion of our relationship, I found myself in an awkward spot. Here I was, freshly single, having been in a serious relationship for two-plus years. This is when I became an asshole.

            What is an asshole, you say? A term thrown around by a bunch of liberals. No, but in honesty, an asshole is a man. One who knows what he wants and plays by the rules—yet always wins (even though he occasionally bends them.) An asshole is the guy who will go up to a girl unprovoked and tell her he thinks she’s gorgeous. He’ll be the one who buys her drinks, generally operates like the cock of the walk, and is fully confident in every sense of the word. He’ll be blackout drunk one night and early for bunch the next morning. He operates under the true definition of YOLO, but fuck that phrase, because it sucks.

His detractors will call him arrogant. The asshole won’t mind. They’ll talk about his drinking. He’ll order a double. They’ll remark how he chases tail, and how he womanizes—nonsense; in the immortal words of Hank Moody, an asshole could never dislike women as he “has all their albums.”

So, men, be an asshole. Be up front. Be to the point. Fail to give a damn. Be a man. Go up to that girl at the bar, charm her, ask for her number, do what you will. Treat her well, but never doubt your manly instincts or the thrill of the chase. Drink. Hell, drink a lot. Enjoy your time. Walk into a room and cockily inquire which of the other guys is finishing second. Women fail to find pussyfooting and insecurity attractive, and the quicker you realize that, you’ll be walk-of-shaming in no time.

-Sandy Brofax 

Gem- Occupy Herbstreit

        Illustrious contributor Sandy Brofax just brought this wonderful, wonderful website to my attention. Just the definition of a gem. It's called "Occupy Herbstreit." If the whole "Occupy" movement wasn't enough of a punchline on it's own, this is just the icing on the proverbial cake (Thank you, Marie Antoinette). I mean, the whole idea is pure gold but each sign is better than the next. And I love the tribute to Wilson Wilson Jr.  Here are a few of my favorite ones, but you can check out the whole site HERE. 

Football's 1% 

Herbstreit's takin' over. 

Bill Cosby as a poster boy for the 1%? 

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You're Killin' Me Smalls/Style: No Homo - The All-Nighter

          The all-nighter. The ultimate broner shrinker. Let's face it: academics, unwisely, have taken a backseat. You've spent your weeks previous punishing your body with one too many Naturals, Netflixing endlessly, texting that blonde smokeshow from that one class, and generally not giving a damn. In a drunken stupor, you check your iCal--big mistake--and see that glaring project, that inescapable midterm. You're toast.

          The all-nighter, much like drinking to excess and poor dining habits, is a collegiate classic. It is ingrained into our minds and our repertoire; we pout, we shout "Never again! I will not procrastinate!" but, like herpes, that shit always comes back.*

"Who says you can't do it all in one night?" Sounds like a challenge.

          As you head to King, you check your bag, stocked as if it's December 31, 1999. You have a can of Skoal, a pack of Camels, copious amounts of your favorite caffeinated sugar water, and a bloodstream so full of prescription stimulants that Charlie Sheen would blush. The big question, however, is how to dress for the occasion.

          I am positive many of you have heard the phrase "Dress well, test well" and, while the only thing you are testing is your ability to avoid Facebook and Twitter, you are nonetheless against greater odds. The thought of sleep. The painful hunger. The drowsiness. You need to be up to the challenge, and there is no better way to fight the good fight than a well-constructed outfit.

          Sure, there will be kids who argue for comfort. These kids are the ones to show up in ratty lax shorts, a three-day-old t-shirt, and a hat. My best advice? Avoid it. As I construct this, it is 6:45 AM and I have been awake for the greater part of a day and a half. I'm rocking loafers, chinos, and a button down. I am both confident and sound, complete with a certain attitude comparable to peacocking. The kid who showed up comfortably is drooling on his MacBook while I pound out problem sets and silly articles like this. I'm in for the kill with my eye in the sight and finger on the trigger.

          In essence, my advice is such: preparation is key and Lord knows a bro loves to dominate, hence the need to dress accordingly. Plus, if you get fucked, well, at least you looked good.


          -Sandy Brofax 

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*Sandy Brofax is STD free. Hey, ladies.




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Style: No Homo - Career Fair

          [Disclaimer: I, Don Vito Broleone, have been sitting on this post since he, Sandy Brofax, fucking wrote it on the Wednesday of career fair and am just now getting around to posting it. In the words of the illustrious Dwayne Michael Carter, sorry for the wait.]

          As I construct the following column, it is 7:30 PM on Wednesday evening. Today was our university’s illustrious Career Fair and, for some, the social event of the season. While I debated gracing those less-than-fortunate-to-be-employed souls with my presence, I figured already having an offer beat a boatload of free pens and acting as if I cared. Hey, I’m graduating.

            Regardless, this evening was spent dining with my father and sister at one of our uptown eateries. As we departed, I could not help but notice the overwhelming number of dudes dressed in what they considered to be their finest threads. A sartorial aficionado, it took every bit of willpower (again, I have little—I’m graduating) to not point and laugh.

            If you were one of the lucky enough souls to have somehow impressed a recruiter enough to score an interview, please heed the following pieces of advice as they may very well be the difference between a shitty studio apartment in Brooklyn versus a shitty studio apartment in your parents’ basement.

Know how to look like a partner at a law firm, not the fresh-out-of-law-school kid
who has two suits and no sense of how to impress. 

1. Black shoes, black belt. Brown shoes, brown belt. I subscribe to only wearing black shoes in weddings, funerals, or in our court systems, but if black is your only option, please get it right.
2. Gentlemen, Sperry Top Siders are wonderful. I wear them religiously even though 95% of my experiences on boats involve those of the motor variety and a keg or six. Sperry Top Siders are not, however, business professional. Bro shoes, yes, but bros also know how to seamlessly fit in.
3. Building off the previous point: shoes. If you own any shoes with a squared off toe, discard immediately; they are, without a doubt, the most heinous shit in menswear.
4. I love Vineyard Vines. I really do; they made my high school’s tie and I am damn near positive I am somehow related to Baby Beluga with the amount of product I own. With that being said, your critter gear is not professional. Again, bro status, but bros know when and where to wear.
5. The most classic shirt you can wear is either a white or blue oxford cloth shirt with either a spread/cutaway collar or a button down. If you wear a suit, opt for the former; a blazer and chinos, the latter. 
6. If you plan to dress up at any point in your life, I swear to God, get that shit tailored. Nothing will make you look more like a child wearing dad’s clothes than ill-fitting threads. Spend good money on a good tailor—it ain’t cheap.
7. For the love of God, polish your shoes.
8. You need to know two tie knots: the four-in-hand and the half-Windsor. These two knots will be the key to your existence.
9. When wearing a tie, do not unbutton the button securing your collar, lest you run the risk of looking as if you just finished swigging Olde English 800 in a bus station bathroom.
10. Your tie should hit the center of your belt buckle. Nothing more, nothing less.
11. Your pants should be tailored or worn to the point of a single break on the top of the shoe. This fit is comparable to the leg “touching” the shoe and the point is so that you do not look as if you are wearing MC Hammer pants.
12. Iron your shirt.
13. You want to differentiate and add a pocket square? Awesome. Make it crisp, clean, and white.
14. Wear a watch. Your iPhone is not an appropriate substitute.
15. Pleats are a no-no.
16. I am morally opposed to socks, yet they are undoubtedly necessary from time to time. With lighter shades, use navy, and use black with black. If I see you wearing athletic socks, well, I hope you’ve stretched ‘cause it’s time to take a lap.
17. You should know your neck size and arm length. You are a college student, so go ahead and abandon the S-M-L sizings for casual wear. Or for never.
18. Ties should be of a solid color, of a repp or regimental variety, or of a specifc club of which you are a member.
19. Your contrast collar shirt makes you look like you should be an extra in “Wall Street.” Do you really want that?
20. If all else fails, wear a lax pinnie—you’ll be good to bro. Er, go. Whatever, fuck it.

-Sandy Brofax

Style: No Homo - How to Deal with the Fucking Rain

Bros,

            As you read this article, it is either Monday or Tuesday; regardless, another wonderful weekend full of aggressive drinking and the occasional cracking of a textbook has turned into the first days of another sluggish week.

            This week has been made even more sluggish by the rain and wind prevalent around our lovely Oxford. While moseying to class today, I was repeatedly taken aback by the sheer number of bros sporting improper footwear on such a blustery day. We, as bros, are some of society’s finest specimens; we pride ourselves on our ability to excel in any situation while also being noticed.

            The one thing I noticed, however, was not over-the-top peacocking and all around awesomeness, yet soggy dogs—a lot of them. Bros and broettes walked past me in squishy Sperrys and turgid tennis shoes. Each situation is hardly ideal.

            With that being said, naturally, Sandy Brofax would make a good recommendation as to the perfect fall shoe … aaaaand, here I am! Your answer? The L.L. Bean Bean Boot Moccasin. An American classic, the Bean Boot Moc is appropriate for those cloudy fall days, that messy tailgate, that trip to CJ’s. A combination of a rubber bottom and leather upper, they give you the brilliance of boots with the appearance of sweet kicks. While bros primarily opt for the standard original Bean Boot, mocs are a good choice, especially in this fickle weather.

            So, retire the Sperrys for the sunny day; wear your tennis shoes when you get swole at the Rec. Bean Mocs ‘til death.

-Sandy Brofax 

If L.L.Bean is good enough for the MLB, it is good enough for you, bro. 

You're Killin' Me Smalls - Freshmen

Dear Freshmen,

Hello and welcome to Oxford, OH, home of our illustrious Miami University. Over the next four to six years (victory lap, anyone?) you will quickly grow to love our sleepy town in which Natural Light flows like wine and the dimes flock like the salmon of Capistrano.

With that being said, as I am now a senior, I cannot help but reflect on my freshman year. Did I wear cargo shorts? Did I fumble and stumble awkwardly around older students? Did I ever look so painfully clueless? The answer to each of these is a resounding no … hence the reason I write for this fine establishment of bright minds, Miami of Brohio.

Triple-A Sect: Defined. 

Regardless, in that aforementioned moment of reflection, I thought of constructing a list for the budding bros and dimes of our fine university—to inspire, to guide, to mold. People and things can always be improved, so hopefully one of the following points will help you grow from a doe-eyed plebe to a stone cold bro.

1. Wardrobe items to immediately eliminate from your wardrobe: flip-flops; cargo shorts; graphic t-shirts; any apparel from the Triple-A sect (Abercrombie, American Eagle, Aeropostale); stupid necklaces; messenger bags; high school apparel.
2. As a note on the last item, a high school shirt is fine; your varsity letter jacket is not. You think anyone, especially that gorgeous brunette you’re currently slurring at, cares you were quarterback? I know I don’t.
3. This deserves a note in and of itself: take your lanyard and throw it in the trash. Or make a noose.
4. Do not travel 35 people deep uptown on a Thursday night. You will get yelled at and you will deserve it.
5. Oh, and regarding getting places: Miami Metro? Are you serious? Suck it up and walk. Bros love to walk—it gives us a chance to see our fellow bros, our ladyfriends, and to just generally peacock.
6. Do not come to my off-campus party. Unless one of my bros directly invited you, you are not welcome. I will kick you out.
7. If you hold cash out at a bar, I know two things: one, this is your first time with a wristband; two, you are an asshole. Learn how to order a drink properly, lest I take your money out of your hand.
8. Quantity over quality. Only a freshman would prefer a nice six pack to a stone cold 30 rack.
9. The doors of King Library close at 11:00 PM. Expect to hear many laughs as you somehow ignore this rule.
10. Until you rush and you pledge, you are still a GDI. Tone down the frattiness, alright?

Cheers,

Sandy Brofax