Wednesday, March 6, 2013

It's Christmas Fuckin' Eve



Twas the night before Green Beer Day and all through the house, 
not a frat star was stirring, not one could you rouse. 
The kegs were on ice, they were tapped with such care, 
in hopes that tomorrow they would soon be drunk bare. 
The students were nestled all snug in their beds, 
while visions of green beer danced in their heads. 
The slampiece in her leggings and I in my cap, 
had just settled down for a short springtime nap. 
When down in the basement there arose such a clatter, 
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. 
Away to the stairs, I flew like a flash, 
tore open the door, and down them I dashed. 
The just rising sun on the newly tapped keg, 
gave the luster of mid-day, paired with a green egg. 
When what to my wondering eye did appear, 
but a mini ice luge with green shots for my peers.
Drunk Freshmen, drunk Sophomores, 
drunk Juniors, drunk Seniors! 
Drunk Buckeyes, drunk Bearcats, 
drunk Hoosiers and Hawks! 
To the top of the porch, from the window, to the wall! 
Now drink away, drink away, drink away all! 

Cheers,
-The Big Lebroski 


EDIT: An (unfortunately) anonymous commenter left their own poem which is actually hysterical. Fucking read it. 

'Twas the Night Before Green Beer Day
By Two Former Miamians on the occasion of GBD '07 

'Twas the night before Green Beer Day, when all through the school
Not a student was studying, not even the tools.
The Coozies were placed by the fridge with care
In hopes that the morning soon would be there.

The students were nestled all snug in their beds,
While thoughts of morning drunkenness danced in their heads.
And everyone set their alarms to 5:30,
For their academic records tomorrow they'd dirty.


When out on their desks there arose such a ring:
They snoozed their alarms to see what morning would bring.
Away to the kitchens they flew with a flash;
Tore open the doors and gathered their cash.


The sun starts to rise over few driving cars
As all in Oxford head out to the bars.
When what to our wandering eyes should appear
But kegs upon kegs of green, flowing beer


Our eyes lit up bright as our lips we all lick;
By the end of the day, we all will be sick.
More rapid his than eagles, from taps out it came;
The students whistled, shouted and called out by name:


"Bud Heavy, Mich Ultra and some Natty light!
Start me a tab and pour me a pint!
To the top of the cup and then down to the end
Finish your first, then fill up again!"


Then, it's 9:30, and we're drunk off our ass;
We're met with an obstacle: our morning's first class.
Threatened with things like zeros, fails or drops
On our way down the slant walk, we're alert for the cops.


And then, in the twinkling, we enter the room
Knowing full well of our impending doom.
As we take our seats, we are thoroughly messed
And try our hardest not to puke on our test.


When on question 10, our answers in doubt,
To the left what sees we? A classmate passed out.
After 50 minutes' torture, still we're not sober
On the way out the door, two others fall over.


We look at the bus stop but the sign is a blur;
To the house for a nap we must go for the cure.
We wake up at 3 again twinkling and merry
And go back to the bars for a shot of Extreme Cherry (suck it, Bratz)


Our droll little mouths were drawn up like bows
We look to our right and see three bangin' hoes.
Decked out in green shirts, right jolly young sluts
In two hours time, we'll put it in their butts!


But then we remember that we're too drunk to talk;
We get another round and continue to gawk.
And using the grease off the side of our nose,
We put fingers in beer and down the foam goes.


After several shots, where tequila's the killa'
We realize that we are all totally drunkzilla
We spring to our feet, to our friends give a whistle
And away we all fly like the down of a thistle.

But as we leave the bar, we've one statement to make:
"Happy Green Beer Day to all, have a nice Spring Break!"

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Chillabus Week

          Chillabus Week is coming to close. The week when we all spend 168 hours intoxicated. The week when we make the best worst decisions of our lives. The week like no other. However, we no longer have a rock solid excuse for skipping class to drink pitcher after pitcher. Does that mean we'll stop? Oh, fuck no. So there's no need to mourn the end of Chillabus Week. Today is not the end of the greatest week; instead, today is the beginning of the NHL season and the eve of one of the greatest football sundays this year. Today is the second consecutive weekend that we've had spring day drinking weather in January and the first weekend you have the opportunity to hook up with that certain smoke in your new class. So carpe that god damn diem and close out Chillabus Week like the fucking professional that you are. See you uptown. 

Disclaimer: I'm drunkenly writing this instead of taking my regular power nap before the weekly saturday rally. 

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

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 

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

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. 



Monday, October 22, 2012

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 

Monday, October 15, 2012

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 

Saturday, October 13, 2012

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 

Thursday, October 11, 2012

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 

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

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.

Monday, September 10, 2012

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.)

Thursday, September 6, 2012

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. 

Friday, August 31, 2012

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.


          

Thursday, August 30, 2012

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

Thursday, August 23, 2012

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. 

Friday, July 13, 2012

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.



Wednesday, June 27, 2012

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.