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 

Word to the Wise - The Brof Hits You With Some Knowledge

Do I love country? Sadly, no. I'm too Northern for that. However, I do love Darius Rucker and all that is Hootie. If you don't, you're most likely a terrorist. Anyways, in one of his songs, Darius is explaining to "Be wary of a woman...". Thus, a few brief characteristics and nuances to watch out for in the female population while in college or if you're recently graduated:

-If you've been dating for only a month or so, and she starts talking about marriage or rings: BAIL.

-If all she watches is Disney movies and [cheesy] chick flicks. She will undoubtedly have: A. False pretenses about relationships B. Delusional standards for the male population. 3. Shitty taste in movies. (I'm all about Lion King, don't get me wrong. Shit was raw as a kid.)

-If she always says/posts shit like "I'm soooo fat" "Omg I should lay off the junk food" "Guys just never treat me right". She probably has confidence issues, attention whoring/compliment fishing issues,or a shitty attitude. Or some freakish chimera of all three.

-She has you pay for everything, all the time, every time. This is traversing past chivalry, and bounding into "she's using you, bro" territory.

-She has mostly guy friends, and not many girl friends at all. This most likely means she's a bitch, in some form or another. Or a sloot. (bitchy sloot?)

-She bounces from relationship to relationship frequently; always has a boyfriend. Sounds like commitment issues to me. Or she's a sloot.

-She has an awful laugh that resembles an adolescent seal being clubbed to death. She's hot? Whatever. Imagine listening to that seal dying every time you say something witty.

-There are three kinds of girls in one aspect: Girls who don't like sports, girls who pretend to like sports, and girls who like sports. Stray away from the first, gravitate towards the latter two. Preferably the last one. 

-She only watches shows like 'Real Housewives', 'The Bachelor', and shows about dresses or whatever the fuck. She obviously has poor taste in television, and you'd probably want to commit suicide if you had to sit through that garbage on a regular basis.

-She doesn't drink beer. Get ready for Sloppy Susie. And higher than average bar tabs.

-If she's obsessed with Hello Kitty. Girl, you aren't an Asian twelve year old.

Brof, out.

Gems - Ovi, The Next Gr8 Rapper?

          Now we know why Ovi has been having a relatively subpar season, he's been perfecting his rap game. The man lives with his mother, is one of the greatest players the NHL has ever seen AND just drops verses in Russian rap videos? The man does it all. He lays out his verse at 2:55 but check the 1:21 mark for some rhythmic gymnastics, 2:19 for something I can only call, "Happy Ovi" and 2:49 for some mini Russian making a face that deserves to be shared with the world. Cheers

          (And just for kicks, here's an old french hip-hop song whose chorus is literally translated to, "put on your hood." Fucking Frenchies.)

You're Killin' Me Smalls - The Holiday Hangover

There's few feelings that compare to getting to come home for Christmas break after a week of finals fucking your shit up. You're excited to see friends, family, possibly a 30 pound cat who snores so loud he keeps you up at night. Whatever, to each his own. On the way home you realize there are home cooked meals and a giant cozy bed in the near future that can just make a person down right giddy, but once December 25th hits shit tends to go south. 

Spreadin' that holiday cheer

We all get "the holiday hangover." (Props to my main bitch for coming up with that one.) You know that feeling come Christmas day after 2pm once all four of your stupid adult presents are opened and the spirit of Christmas has decided to peace the fuck out. Your family is no longer that sweet, loving, funny group of people you missed so dearly but those inconsiderate fools who keep demanding you not come home stoned out of your mind and eat all their food. Suddenly having the ability to not curse after every other word because seemingly impossible. Then mom and/or dad feels the need to comment every day about how you curse like a sailor, I mean c'mon cut me a fucking break.

Part two of this horrendous holiday switch-a-roo is when your "friends" from high school also become strange and less exciting. I put the word friends in quotes just to clarify that we all see those people from high school we have absolutely zero interest in communicating with and yet are completely fascinated with them because you've been Facebook stalking them all year watching their weight gain progress until they've hit the point of no return, the bad part is everyone has this notion that after high school you're all bff's. False. Back your shit up Shamu, I have enough friends I can't stand I don't need your fat ass taking up more of my newsfeed.

The good news for all you bitches is New Years Eve is on it's way and who doesn't love an excuse to make some horrendous decisions? Especially when drunken debauchery is followed by a list of absolutely ridiculous resolutions about how you're going to be a better person and stop fucking that person who's name you still can't remember. Don't be dumb. You're still a total dick, and chances are when we all crawl back to Oxford you'll dial up whats their name and fuck em like it's 2012.

Peace bitches.

The Best Thing About The NBA Being Back? THIS.

This is a GEM of a commercial for the return on the NBA aired by TNT. Chills for days. 

Gems - Miami Girls, All 8 of Them

"OMG guys, you have to read this book.
It, like, changed my life." 

Miami: Home to a generally good looking student population, emphasis on the female side. It was one of the contributing factors to chose Miami as my institution, (just kidding. But seriously.) All you hear about is how Miami is home to preppy ladies, however, not all of the chicks in Oxford are the same. Here is a list of the types of girls you will meet at our great school:

1. The Geed:

She's not into the Greek scene. She scoffs at everything "frat" and usually all that is preppy. If you're wearing your letters, she commonly will look down on you. She won't laugh at your jokes (even if they are genuinely funny) and don't bother trying to explain something to her. She loves to wear her 'trendy' non-prep clothing and hang out in the Art building or Architecture studio. She avoids bars such as Brick, and loves to hang out at Skipper's. An anecdote: I once met a friend of a friend while uptown. I asked if she was in a sorority and she replied "No" with a bit of a condescending laugh, then asked if I was in a "frat". I replied yeah, and she gave me a scrunched up face. Even in my drunken state I noticed and asked if there was a problem. Actual quote: "Well, you're probably a douchebag. Frat guys are douchebags". Bitch, just because I'm in fraternity and have confidence does not make me a douche. 

2. The Geed who thinks she's in Sorority:

This one can be normal, but can also be annoying. She wears Sperry's, Lily, Patagonia. She's got Daddy dough. However, she is not in a Sorority. She is only in a "professional fraternity" or one of the other letter-clubs. She talks like rush and pledging are the same as real deal. She may or may not try to make her fraternity seem more legit than your 'social' fraternity. Look, don't get me wrong, I knew a lot of people in professional fraternity's, but they didn't try to make it equal to or greater than being in a 'social' fraternity or sorority. A lot of people are in both. Although, I did know a girl from one of my groups who would not shut the fuck up about "D-Sig's" parties. If I wanted to rage like that, I'd get my drank on in business casual. Oh wait, I did that plenty.

3. The Sorority girl: usual preppy attire, always carrying a Vineyard Vines tote with her letters/insignia on it, chatting about who she will take to the date party/social/semi/formal  Her sub groups:

3a .-The Top Tier Sorority girl: She typically can have a nose up in the air demeanor. Usually very good looking. However there are some duffs or mulligans that got in because they are a legacy, wealthy, or they have the 'attitude'. "I only party with top tier fraternities". Wearing your letters is a conversation starter, and frequently a deal breaker in her eyes. Doesn't expect to pay for many drinks when she's uptown. She's trying to get her Mrs degree.

3b. -Middle/Not Top Tier Girl: Her looks can range from Plan D to Smokeshow. Fella's: There is always at least 1 or 2 babes in each sorority. Trust me. These girls can be smug to those who are "Top Tier" (male or female), and are aware of how they stack up to the other Sororities. Oppositely, they can be naive or just don't care about how they, for lack of better words, 'measure up' to the other sororities. They can be a lot nicer and more real than the other girls. They are humble, fun to rage with, and aren't complete skanks. 

4. Daddy's Hedgefund Baby:

She wears everything that is 'prep'; 'Vines, 20 pairs of Sperry's, pearls, Norts on Norts on Norts. Drives a Range Rover. Doesn't care if guys buy her drinks because she's already started a frat-tab. Some of these girls are absurdly wealthy, and they know it. Anything goes wrong, she's on the phone with her father. Refuses to venture into Walmart. Always drinking a Fiji water. Others are much more low key about their bank account.

5. The Female Frat-Star (hooks a lot of dudes, talks like a bro, drinks nothing but light beer and whiskey, neon, pinnies, bonging, wayfarers)

She's at every fraternity party, she's in the frat-castle more than you are (fratrat), she started day drinking before you. Neon snapback, wayfarers, pinnie, red solo cup in hand. This girl's goal is to drink like the boys. Always the one asking if you want to bong or shotgun a beer, and will promptly call you a pussy if you don't. She likes to call you "dude" and "Bro". Really fun to party with. Usually not one you'd like to be in a relationship with due to their attributes and habits paralleling a dudes. At night, she's on the hunt for a dance floor makeout or a hookup. 

6. Blackout Betty:

She doesn't drink to have fun. She already is having fun. She drinks to rage, and her goal is blackout. She "doesn't drink beer", only liquor. She's the girl falling over and lying in the grass during the day drinking parties.She drank half a bottle of vodka by herself during the late afternoon pregame and got dressed hammered, resulting in some hotmess/slutty mashup. She already has her heels off to walk uptown. She insists on going to Brick and nowhere else will suffice. She is screaming every lyric to every top 40 song. She insists she's not drunk as she struggles to look you in the eye with her own glazed over and wandering eyes. She's already ordering another round of shots after everyone just took one. Rude to the bartenders. Making out with some rando as she's falling off her barstool. Adversly, if she's not getting any, no one else is; the worst cockblock. This also coincides with how she usually has to go home early because she's in close proximity of blackout, and she's taking everyone of the girlfriends with her. 

7. The Athlete

She's in good shape. Maybe even in better shape than you. She could be a 6'2" baller or a 5'3" field hockey chick. Miami gear on most days; Varsity jackets, warmups, sweats, athletic kicks. Some don't seem entirely interested in the male species. Depending on the season, she may be non-existent in the class you have with her. Probably won't see her uptown all that often, and if they are, odds are they'll be borderline sober.

8. The Exchange Student

Miami has been trying to expand its diversity over the past decade or so. As a result, there are a small subculture of foreign kids in Oxford. How they can be spotted: never speaking up in class, accents so thick you thought they are speaking jibberish, umbrellas in sunny weather, engaging in an awkward hybrid of walking and jogging to make it to class or catch the bus, hanging out in large groups, frequent residents of King (even on the weekend). Some are very friendly, others not so much. Another anecdote: I had a marketing class with a handful of french kids. One girl always dressed like a straight up hipster, and she acted like she was better than the American students. French stereotype much? One day in class, I answered a non-yes/no question (pretty well, I might add), and this bitch had the audacity to address me specifically and bluntly say "No, you are wrong." This is about the time I wanted to beat her with a baguette. So I simply replied "No, I am correct, Mademoiselle". Don't take shit from those snooty foreigners. Befriend the smart ones in difficult classes.

-Brofessor PostGrad

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Gems - Blaming It On The A-A-A-Adderall

[Disclaimer: We at Miami of Brohio do not condone or encourage....fuck it, party on.]  

There's nothing better than the feeling of a new prescription in your hands after what feels like an extremely long, never ending wait. Personally, I rush to the nearest pharmacy like a little kid at a candy store and pop that script straight in their face with a sparkle in my eye and hope in my heart. 

(Just a side note I used to get mine filled at the Miami U pharmacy but that knew me on a first name basis and I felt like it was time we went our separate ways. It wasn't her, it was me. I miss that cheery eyed broad every day of my life, no one filled that pill bottle like she could. Goddamnit.) 

Walking around with a brand new bottle of adderall in your backpack is like walking around with a pot of gold, I'd imagine. Actually lugging around a pot of gold would be fucking terrible so scratch that comparison and just leave it at this; it feels really really fucking good. Like first date sex good. All of you adderall takers, buyers, and sellers know what I'm referring to and for everyone else you're probably a woman's studies major. Ya I just went there and took you with me. Adderall is taken for a plethora of reasons, one of those reasons is NOT sex. Guys and gals if you're looking to bang bang I recommend you stay far away from this shit. Girls generally don't want anyone speaking to them let alone touching them and it seems to be the dick's kryptonite. 

(Another side note..any girl who gets legit mad at her boyfriend, fuck buddy, etc. for not getting that sail at full mast after popping some adderall should be kicked straight in the baby maker. That's just how I feel about that.)

Partying on this magical, mystical drug allows for hours of endless fun followed by the most extreme and horrifying hang over of your life. Once taken give adderall about 20 minutes, unleash what will ultimately be the biggest dump of your life, and finalize the process by pounding beers. You'll feel like goddamn Ke$ha and there's fucking glitter on the floor or whatever that bitch rambles about. The inevitable is a black out, chances are you will remember absolutely nothing and once you do wake up with a dragon of a hangover you'll get to enjoy a fun game of Nancy Drew. Where am I? Who are you? Where are my clothes? Why are my shoes covered in mud? I went to what bar? I texted them WHAT? It really just progressively gets more fun, and by fun I mean horrifying and shameful. 

Am I saying I'm addicted to adderall? No, I'm merely saying I'm a hug fan of it. HUGE fan. Besides the sweating, irritability, constant bowel movements, and inability to eat anything without gagging it's a gem. Let's just get real kiddos it's time we started blaming it on the A-A-A-Adderall. 

peace out bitches. 

-Brogina George

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Give Those Bros a Beer - Tyler Biggs, Matt Tomassoni and Curtis McKenzie

Freshman forward Tyler Biggs was named Gongshow Gear CCHA Rookie of the Week last week after the hockey team’s sweep of Alaska; some solid momentum for the team going into this weekend’s big series vs. Michigan at home. Check out Gongshow Gear on twitter, @GongshowGear, for quality hockey lifestyle gear and some funny fucking tweets. Throw a follow the Toronto Maple Leafs prospect’s way (although he’s already got 4k superfans hanging on his every word), @Tyler_Biggs. HERE'S the link to the story on CCHA.com. So even though he’s clearly doing just fine in his first year here, give this freshman a beer. 
          The other bros are growing mustaches for Movember. You've all heard of No Shave November but Movember takes the tradition a step further. Movember is a worldwide movement to raise awareness for men's health, specifically prostate cancer and and other cancers that affect men. You can donate to Matt Tomassoni (@MattDingo27) and Curtis McKenzie's (@MuckBro16) Movember page HERE. So throw them a donation and give those bros a beer (And make sure you get to the Goggin Friday and Saturday for what are guaranteed to be two great games). 


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Gems - Take Care

Usually I’d hand off music stuff to Notorious B.R.O but I’m calling dibs on this one. Drake’s album Take Care is probably all you’re hearing about. Every tweet, every status update seems to be lyrics from Take Care and I am not complaining. This is B.o.B’s “Airplanes” all over again but with good music. I haven’t stopped listening to it yet and it just keeps growing on me. Now, some people have been calling it soft or whatever but fuck that. Andre 3000 kills it. Rihanna is decent on her track. Plus, I feel like everyone can relate to every fucking song like we’re all middle school chicks acting like “he totally wrote that song, like, FOR ME.” If you say you HAVE stopped listening, you're lying. But I’ll hop off Drake’s dick and let you decide whether its good or not. But if you say that it isn’t, you’re wrong. 


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"Don Vito Goes America on Everyone's Asses"

5:28 p.m. On a Tuesday. Scene opens on a near empty Brick Street, save a few loyalists and a small pack of wild townies. I've been in this scene more often than I've been behind a computer screen entertaining you and for that, I will not apologize. I’ve been slacking in a major way when it comes to writing and tweeting. Whatever, cry about it (Some of you have been via Twitter and no, it's not endearing). But this attitude has applied to everything in my life recently. I’ve definitely reached that point in the semester where I just don’t give a fuck. I actually feel sorry for you guys because some funny shit has happened around campus and around, ya know, the world that I could’ve blogged about and you all missed out. Sucks. But this is my promise to continue to be as dysfunctional as the "It's Always Sunny" gang and not give a fuck. And the Brotege will continue to do all the Charlie Work. You’re welcome, Miami. 


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Post-Grad Homecoming

It's Tuesday morning. I just slid into my chair at my desk at work. Still a little out of it from the weekend, but I still have a shit eating grin on my face. As you all know, this weekend was Homecoming at good ole Miami. Being a recent Alum, I obviously had to venture back to the Oxford bubble for some celebrating and questionable decisions.

     Friday during work was an absolute crawl. Time moved slower than a high turtle. I battled this by downloading 3LAU's rage mixtape "Dance Floor Filth", and partied in my head for the majority of the day. I got anxious about missing festive drinking, and got the nod to duck out half an hour early. I'm considerably lucky to not have crossed paths with Johnny Law on my drive, due to my speed fluctuating between 80 and 90mph. Sadly I arrived too late to participate in beat the clock. Refusing to be downtrodden about this, I raised my chin, grabbed a two liter of coke, a trusty handle of Maker's Mark, and set forth to catch up with my bro's and hoes. Playing catch up actually turned into the equivalent of getting a golden mushroom in Mario Kart, because I blew past my friends. My girlfriend and I hadn't planned on dressing up, but in my drunken state, I suddenly became insistent on putting a costume together. The result: Marty McFly from Back to the fucking Future. To me, I looked awesome. Not sure what other people thought... Anyways, we ventured back uptown. I saw a kid dressed as Santa with a hawaiian shirt on, and felt the need to harass him. Drunken stroke of genius/not exactly clever: "Go back to delivering presents in Hawaii you fuck!". Wen't to my Fraternity's halloween party. I asked a younger brother to snag me a couple brews, but he said "Dude, we already ran out" (I wasn't too surprised, it was way too crowded). Although, he then said "But I have this-" and held up a handle of vodka and a 2 liter of Sprite. Thus, vodka to the face commenced. Repeatedly. 

     Sometime later: Uptown. Brick's line: #ThingsLongerThanKimsMarriage (how pop-culturally relevant of me). 45 was next choice. Bar was a zoo. Bartender saw me, Yelled "Marty McFly?" to which I drunkenly gave him a thumbs up. His reply "One of my favorite movies, man. First rounds on me". Success. Lost track of time. Brick followed, and didn't last long. I ran into my grandbig, and bought him, my girlfriend, and myself shots of straight whiskey. I'm pretty sure I told her Jim or Makers. We threw back the shots and I instantly knew something was wrong. 1. The shot was neither Makers, Jim, or even Jack. It was fucking Old Crow. The bitch swindled me. That shot went down rougher than a sandpaper handjob. 2. My stomach was not feeling that shot. My girlfriend took one look at me and said "We need to go". I agreed, I felt like shit and it was almost closing time. On our way out of Skybox, the girlfriend stops abruptly and says "Hold on one sec", turns, and proceeds to throw up in the corner. This took me by surprise, and I said "What the fuck" and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. I turned to check back on her and she went boof round two. At this point my stomach tapped out of the battle, and I followed suit. Couples vomming. How romantic. After this, the show wen't black.

     Saturday morning. I wake up and see an empty Gatorade bottle and a bottle of advil. I felt great. My girlfriend must have went into caring shacker mode, and I was feeling the benefits. We all decided to head to brick to watch some college ball and put down some trashcans of the alcoholic variety. As you can imagine, this went swimmingly. Intoxicated conversations: with friends about post-grad life. With people I've had group projects with. With people I'd only met once before. Acting like best friends with mere acquaintances. Enter extreme hunger. The resolve: Bagel & Deli. Standard. Not so standard: taking said bagels back to Brick and eating at the bar whilst drinking a trashcan. Why had I never done this before? 

     We left Brick to go watch the OSU game at my buddy's girlfriend's. We played pong, (I'm not gonna lie and say I was running train like some douche. I'll say I was drunkenly playing like shit, but winning barely). My buddy knocked over a cup and spilled beer all over the wooden floor. I kind of just stood there are stared at the pool of brew. All of a sudden, Pocohontas came running out of one of the bedrooms. The equation in my head: Running drunk Pocohontas + Unnoticed spilled beer puddle = Pocohontas eating shit. What happened: Same equation, but the feather haired girl ate shit and also fell into the beer pong table. Every cup was overturned, including my Bourbon and Coke side-cup. I yelled "Aw shit, the alcohol!" and checked all the cups for remnants. This is about the time I realized I'm an asshole, because she was on the floor, damp with beer and apparently crying. Woops. She ran back into her room. I felt bad, until she went drama queen mode and was even quoted saying "It's the end of the world". Aw Shiieet, Girl. Buckeyes upset the Badgers, we went nuts, mass alcohol consumption followed. Luckily swooped a ride uptown from a sober friend. Too many people were there for the whip, so one brave Bro rode trunk. Brick Street again. Nothing interesting that I can remember or what my friends told me happened here. We left because my girlfriend said, and I quote, "I don't feel so good. The bass is so loud. The bass is making my stomach hurt." Jesus, Woman. I remember 3 things after. 1. Leaving the doors of Brick. 2. Peeing in clear view of some skankily-clad chicks. 3. Eating chicken strips with honey and bbq. Lots and lots of honey and bbq.

Briefly, Things I Missed (and You probably will too): 

-Daydrinking. It's a lot harder to participate in mass day drinking activities out of college.

-Everyone dressing well

-Trashcans

-Being able to walk everywhere within reasonable distance while drunk

Briefly, Things I Didn't Miss Terribly: 

-How crowded Brick gets on the weekends/the line of Brick on the weekends

-When girls barge in on you when you're in one of the Skybox bathrooms

-Bumping into ex's everywhere

I need some more coffee.

-Brof.


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Halloween Hangover

I have it. Still. 


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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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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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Ding Dong the Bitch is Back.

          I know I've been fairly off the radar since heading off to Ireland to be a professional at life but worry not my little skanks, the bitch is back. After trudging drunkenly through Ginger Island for the last three months I've realized how much I miss the land of the brave and more specifically Oxvegas. What have I been missing specifically you ask? (If you didn't ask quite frankly I don't give a fuck you're going to read what I have to say and you're going to like it.)

Ding, Dong, the Bitch is Back. 

1. Townies: Having a population of toothless individuals to boost your self confidence on a regular basis is a gift. I've learned to truly appreciate our creepy little townie community, plus they're slightly less aggressive than Ireland townies also referred to as gypsies..they're real, and they're horrifying. Fun fact, there is a real life gypsy king and unfortunately he wouldn't lend me his tears. 

2. Shenanigans: I rely quite heavily on the idiocy of my peers at Miami to keep me entertained. Going throughout life for the last ninety days without a Police Beat has been northing short of traumatic. 

3. McCullough-Hyde aka Mc Kill em and Hide em: Maybe this is just me, but I miss the hospitable staff of McCullough-Hide hospital. I would imagine since I provide them with drunken entertainment at least once every three months the nurses are probably assuming I've gone and drank myself to death..or something less depressing. Luckily Halloween is coming up so there's still time for me to make an appearance. Stumbling into the hospy dressed up in some sort of whore-like attire should probably do the trick. 

4. King Lib: Ohhh yes, I miss this place. I can't wait to frequent King Library strictly for socializing purposes. I can't tell you the last time I actually did work in this place but fuck serve me up a 500 calorie Starbucks mocha (Ya..they are actually 500 calories in those so remember that ladies next time you're guzzling one down and thinking "oh my goddd i like totes can't lose any weight" It's because you're basically drinking lard) and I'll sit there all damn day pretending to do work.

          Heed my warning..be careful bitches because I'm coming back, and I'm ready to rant my ass off. So next time you decide to take a drunken tumble down the stairs at brick street and cry about it just remember..I'm probably 1. at the bar taking a starry night shot, laughing at you, and judging you mercilessly and 2. going to write about it and make you sound about a thousand times worse than actuality. So stay pretty Miami.

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

Gems - Mustache Rides, Anyone?

          Don't mess with Texas. Derek Holland's mustache was clearly the star of the game last night. Forget his superior skills on the mound, the mustache is the source of all his talent. Cleat chasers lining up for mustache rides left and right. Seriously though, if (when) the Texas Rangers win the World Series only address me as Big Tex (for at least a week). And who saw W throw out that first pitch? Just a liiittle worse than John Lackey, but W probably wasn't throwing back beers in the clubhouse (more like Maker's or Johnny Walker Blue) Stick to golfing, Mr. President. 

Miami Memories

         Every good bro has had that moment where he wakes up the morning after a hard blackout with hang over and no memory of what went down the night before. I know I've a few awkward mornings already, and I've only been here 3 months. Some of these blackouts made pretty good stories afterword, but there are a few that I would never want to repeat. 

I want to hear the best stories from the elder bros of Miami. I know everyone has that one ridiculous story they love to tell, or that one night that was so fucked up, they don't want any of their friends to know about it. Send me your best stories of blackout nights with awkward mornings and I'll post a few of the best for everyone to read. 

          This is your chance to anonymously get recognition for the most ass backwords night of your life or get recognition and subsiquent braggin rights for having one of the craziest blackouts of all the bros at Miami. The story that the Miami of Brohio staff decides is the best of the best will get some official MoB prizes. #MiamiofBrohioswag

          So send your stories to thebrotege@gmail.com Names are optional, but ridiculousness is absolutely mandatory.

I Need a Vacation From That Vacation

        One day off? Horseshit, Miami. Give me a Monday off and I will start writing my alumni donor checks now. Give me a Friday off and I won't even notice. We all know the amount of effort put in on Fridays is laughable anyway so giving us an official day off on a Friday is a literal slap in the face. "Hey students,  need a break? We'll pretend to give you one!"How fucking kind of you. 

Such a tease. 

         And after the way most of us treated fall break, partying with friends at neighboring schools, taking over the empty-ish bars uptown, regurgitating homemade meals and getting blackout with friends from home, we all need a break to catch up. If you're an athlete you honestly didn't have a fall break (just like you never have free time anyway). Other schools get legitimate fall breaks (I'm talking a week to ten days. Is that ridiculous or what?) and I hate them for that and my hate is directly derived from pure jealousy. It's currently 2:34 am Tuesday morning and I should be making my way back from Karaoke but instead I'm doing work I ignored over my "relaxing" break and ranting about my irresponsible habits. So Miami, if you could cater to my personal priorities and lackluster work ethic, that would be greatly appreciated.