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 

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.


          

Slut Scavenger Hunt: A Checklist

          All Hallows Eve is by far my favorite holiday; you get to dress slutty, eat candy, and sleep around with no judgment. It’s actually encouraged to go drink and not spend any time bonding with your family. I’d like to see that encouraged on Easter Sunday. To make Halloween last as long as possible I put together a little scavenger hunt. This should be an entertaining game as you gaze out your window hung over as fuck this weekend. It’s easy to spot these girls from a mile away;  it’s as if a Ke$ha and Michael Jackson are shooting a music video on your street. They are the display of glitter, TV stars, and lady Gagas taking the walk of shame. You’ve been waiting for this all month, every girl you know has Halloweenorexia and every guy’s planning Halloweenigans. Best of all, the amount of walkers quadruples, who didn’t go home with some slut in a fairy costume last night? Here’s a short list of what you should be on the lookout for. Hell, let’s turn it into a drinking game and rally our hearts out, Oxford.

1. Superwoman- Growing popularity in tight, spandex, whortastic superhero costumes ensures you’ll see all the marvel heroes you whacked the ham to in sixth grade. Check it off early and take a shot.


2. Loud, obnoxious male costumes. These guys are the ones that strike out at the bar every week. They think dressing as a gynecologist or giant boob is hilarious and the key to going home with the unsuspecting blacked out girl from their history class. Don’t drink to this, just throw something at him and call him a GDI.


3. Token ugly chick. The girl who wore so much make-up and a costume fitted to all the right places to finally get laid by someone decently attractive. Morning come the dude sobered up and kicked her the fuck out. Take two shots for this one, one for you and one for that poor schmuck.


4. Alumni, its homecoming after all. It has to be clear this is a walk of shame. Leaving a dorm or house disheveled removes all doubt. If you happen to see an alumni in costume twitpic it to us and we’ll give you a shot. Not really, but we’d still like to see it.


5. The hot chick that you aren’t really sure if it’s a costume or she just dresses like a slut. She’s attractive, wearing a trendy, flattering outfit, and clearly on the walk of shame. She keeps her head high like the seasoned veteran that she is. Take a shot if you’ve bagged her, otherwise let her pass like a champ. 


6. The creative costume. God help you if these people got laid and you didn’t. They are wearing some outrageously bulky “clever” outfit that usually involves a lot of cardboard. You have no clue how they maneuvered around a party or bar without getting the shit beaten out of them let alone finding someone who’d bang them. Seriously, how did they pee in that monstrosity? More importantly, how’d you end up alone if they still scored?  Take a shot out of disgrace if this one applies to you. 


7. Me, you’d better believe I’m not going home alone. If I see you taking a shot, I’ll wave and think you’re a sterile geriatric fuck who failed to complete the sole task of every male celebrating Halloween. Better luck next year.

You both look terrible. You were made for each other. 

Happy Hunting Bitches!

-Lindsay Brohan 

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The Art of Jersey Chasing

          With each new academic year, fresh jersey chasers (for you freshmen that don't know anything: sports groupies) come creeping out of their "modest" framework. With a diverse array of sports here at Miami there is a jersey for every lonely sorority girl out there, but for those new to this fast paced game here’s a look into the art of jersey chasing.

          There are three levels, just like any other sport here, varsity, club, and intramural. The “field” is any party or local bar, the "players" are the ladies (ironic, huh?), and the score is pretty self explanatory.

Kris Humphries, Brett Locker, Reggie Bush, etc.
kim's the captain of the Varsity team.

Varsity: These chicks are pros. They know the sport, jersey number, and frequented locations of the target. They know the hook-up is meaningless and just another notch on their hockey stick. No feelings=no problem. The team member in question has probably already heard of her and her past athletic conquests.  Unabashed flirting, excessive alcohol, perfectly placed compliments and “that’s SO impressive!” face and the score comes easier than the members of Lonely Island.  

Note: Varsity level takes serious practice, stretching, commitment, and being at least an 8 out of 10. Brohan and the rest of the Brohio staff cannot be held responsible for any injuries resulting in the pursuit of this status.

Club: For the jersey chasers that have a competitive edge but lack the full resources to go pro. These girls are usually 6-7s and attend the clubs games hoping to scope out possible hook-ups. They’re casual, flirty, and get wasted so they can shamelessly attack the club lacrosse players. Why does this work? Club sports players love getting recognition for their hard work on the field and in the sack, making them a fairly easy target to practice your skills on.

Intramural: Consider these lovely ladies the wildcard of the chaser breed. They can go for any level of athlete and their looks can range from 6s to solid dimes. What differentiates these girls is the fact that they will deny any jersey chasing motives till kingdom come. They are simply interested in “that type of guy” not what sport they play or how impressive their record is. Hence the "I don’t care what level I am I just want to play" mentality. They also don’t do any field research before the pounce. They catch a glimpse at a bar or party and immediately open the game with the “I had no idea you were on the team, that’s so cool tell me all about it; I don’t understand the rules at all” card.

          That pretty much covers the bases on the absurd new sport that is Jersey Chasing. Interested in going pro? Find a varsity level player, suck up for tips, and wear something low cut. Obviously attend as many sports events as possible and show your fucking support for the Redhawks. No matter whom you are or what your experience is you are only a hop skip and a jump from being a key player on Miami’s team of athlete hunting harlots. Well, if you are decently attractive that is.

          Good luck to the newbies and I’ll see you on the field.

-Lindsay Brohan