The Black Sheep
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Vol. 2, Issue 13
The College Newspaper That's Actually About College
!
11/21/13 - 12/5/13
Thanksgiving with
The Harrison Twins BY: C weaver It’s Tuesday night and deep within the Coal Lodge, Andrew and Aaron Harrison are hard at work, shoving their many shoes and sweatbands into their matching UK luggage. They’re supposed to leave first thing in the morning to go home for Thanksgiving break and they’re so excited they can barely sleep; they’re now famous in their hometown of Richmond, Texas, so surely there will be a parade in their honor the second they step foot back onto Main Street. As the alarm clock goes off, Aaron throws a shoe at Andrew and they rush off to breakfast. After arguing over who gets the last croissant and who ate breakfast faster, they begin fighting about who gets to drive their car to the airport. “It’s my turn! You drove us around last weekend!” screeches Aaron. “Oh my god, Aaron, you’re such a baby.” A short slap fight begins, but shortly after, Coach Calipari separates the two and coaches a game of rock-paper-scissors. Andrew drives off with a pouting Aaron in his passenger seat. Once they arrive at the airport, they make their way through security and head towards the terminal, listening to the usual comments of gawking passersby. “Oh my god, I’m seeing double,” says one stranger. “Are you two twins?” inquires another. “If I pinch your butt, will your brother feel it?” asks an (incredibly creepy) third. Somehow they make it onto the plane without killing anyone (or each other) and they’re on their way to Texas.
Upon landing, they head towards baggage claim and look around for their parents. “Andrew, Aaron! We’re over here, boys! Oh Aaron, I think you’ve gotten taller!” “Mom, I’m Andrew. It’s been 18 years. Get your shit together.” On the car ride home, they tell their parents all about how great UK is; they love their tutors, they are doing great at basketball practice, and they’re getting laid on the daily. “That’s my boy!” says their dad. “Which boy?” asks Aaron. “That depends on who’s landed the most hotties,” replies dad. They finally pull up to their house and race to their old bedroom where they start fighting over who gets the top bunk. “Aaron, whenever you’re in the top bunk you wake me up at night by shaking the whole bed.”“I don’t give a shit, Andrew! I’m taller, I need the top bunk!” “BY ONE CENTIMETER!” shouts Andrew. “Ok, but I weigh five pounds less! Fatties stay on the bottom bunk,” argues Aaron. They quickly call Calipari who talks them through an alternating schedule for use of the top bunk. “I’m sick of all this dang bickering, boys. Try to get along, and for god’s sake, Aaron, flog your log in the bathroom, not in a damn bunkbed — we’ve talked about this!” It is finally Thursday afternoon and the boys are practically starving. They drool a bit as their mom places the crispy, golden, mammoth turkey onto the table. “Courtesy of the UK basketball department!” their mom tells them, full of pride. “Andrew, get your elbows off of the table!” she shouts.
“MOM! I’m Aaron!” They all start to eat dinner while watching highlights from the UK vs. Texas-Arlington game. “Dad, look, look, there I am, not doing shit on defense!” shouts Aaron. “We all see that, son.” As dinner comes to an end, they take turns telling each other the things for which they
are most thankful this year. “I’m thankful for my new Benz,” says their dad. “I’m thankful that my boys are getting such an excellent education at UK,” says their mom. Aaron says he is most grateful for his mad sprinting skills and Andrew says that he is really thankful for being ranked one above Aaron in the region and state. After another
slap fight, they finally make up and for the remainder of the weekend, the boys get along wonderfully. They are back to finishing each others’ sentences, and along the way they find out that if one of them gets their ass pinched, the other does, in fact, feel it.
page 5
page 7
The First Fratsgiving
A Kentucky Thanksgiving
Colony bros and indian hoes at Grandma’s does not go over well.
What more do you need than Jim and Papa John?
Top 10: Things Wildcats are Grateful For
page 4
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The First
Fratsgiving By: black sheep staff Now, I don’t hate being at home. I like to visit the fam' every once in awhile for a short detox but then I’m back to the kick-ass campus for another retox. Thanksgiving break is just way too long and after what happened last year, I’m not so sure I’m welcome anymore… It was the day before Thanksgiving. My mind was already numb with the constant drone of the damn vacuum cleaner going back and forth in the upstairs hallway. I never had to deal with this shit back on campus. The halls of my frat were caked with food crumbs, old gum and just a splash of alcohol, but no one ever complained about it. Clearly my stay-athome mom had nothing better to do than suck up dust bunnies and bore the hell out of me. I peered over into the kitchen to see my brother John sitting at the table. John was a freshman and the biggest geed you’d ever meet. I had been trying to get him to pledge my frat for weeks in an attempt to pull him out of the bowels of Lexington. I had decided that this was the week I was finally going to
convince him to become a man. “Whaddup, bro?” I slid into the seat next to him with a fresh can of Keystone, a coming home gift I bought for myself even though my dad had some tight bottles of Heineken in the fridge. “So we got that family party tomorrow, you stoked?” “Uh, I guess?” he replied raising his eyebrow over his stupid thick-framed Ray-Bans. “It’s just Thanksgiving at grandma’s.” “A party’s a party, dude! And you know what that means? All the free booze we want … so long as we sneak it in the bathroom. Am I right?” I asked, punching him in the shoulder. He stared at me for a few moments before rolling his eyes and walking away. “Whatever, dude, tomorrow’s going to be epic. You’ll see.” The next morning I woke up ready to start pregaming. I grabbed my bottle of Jäger and threw back some doubles while Skrillex’s “Bangarang” played through my bedroom stereo. After my sixth round, I stumbled into
my brother’s room with a half-tucked in polo and my trusty snapback. “Theme … theme party,” I slurred, “We’re doing ‘Colony Bros and Indian Hos,’ got it? Can I borrow your pilgrim belt?” Not amused and unfazed by my state of drunkenness, John helped me out to the car where my parents were waiting. When we arrived at my grandma’s, I could feel the alcohol leaving my system. I quickly whipped out my flask and chugged down the rest. I was ready to turn this family party up a notch. “Heeeeeyyyyooo!” I yelled as soon as my grandma answered the door. Startled and confused, my entire family stared at me as I fist bumped everyone in the room and gave a little ass squeeze to some of the younger babes in attendance. I began clearing off the dining room table to make room for a game of BP when my grandma dragged me aside. “Christopher, I think you should go into the
back room and lie down,” she muttered as sternly as an IFC officer. With a head nod up and a wink, I made my way to the “back room,” clearly the OK for me to smoke some hash and increase my appetite. After a quick blaze and a few shots of Listerine mouthwash, I made my way back into the main room where I unexpectedly had the urge to break the seal. Before I could even unzip my fly to take a corner piss, my brother rushed over to stop me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he screamed at me. Before I could protest, I spotted her. Long legs, toned ass and tits like Kate Upton. “Who’s that slampiece?” I wondered aloud, “I’d like to take
her ass to bucktown.” Horrified, my brother harshly whispered, “Chris, that’s our 12-year-old cousin Claire! She’s in the sixth grade!” But my boozeinfested brain didn’t compute the message, and I slowly made my way over to her. As soon as I opened my mouth to speak, a rush of nausea hit me. At the exact moment my grandmother placed the roasted turkey on the table, I turned and blew chunks over the entire bird. Needless to say, there was really nothing to be thankful for that year when your turkey is covered in regurgitated Jäger. But my parents did decide that it was best for me to head back to campus early. And that, my friends, was the greatest blessing of them all.
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A Kentucky Thanksgiving By: Cassandra Shouse Although there exists an insurmountable divide between those who cohabitate Kentucky, they set aside there differences one day a year and sit across the table from one another to share a meal. On one side of the table sit the Louisville Cardinals, and on the other side, the U.K. Wildcats. It’s time for the second Thanksgiving! The two heads of these dysfunctional families, Joe B. Hall and Denny Crum take their respective spots at head of the long, oaken table while Coach Calipari and Coach Pitino are assigned to the kiddy table with a chuckle. “Never Nervous Pervis” Ellison playfully kicks at Walter McCarty and Reece Gaines under the table. Always going for the points, DeJuan Wheat picks up a roll from the table and tries to toss it in the bowl of gravy at the opposite of the end. Somehow he misses, but luckily, Chuck Hayes is there for the rebound, and slams it home, splashing Cane Sauce-gravy all over Denny Crum. Tales of National Championships are shared and Wiley Brown regales everyone with the story of how he and his teammate Derek Smith invented the high-five, and the two coaches carve the turkey together, each wearing aprons with the other’s face on it. Dinner is going great so far, with both sides, both colors, sharing in the true spirit of gluttony and instant gratification. That is, until Louisville alum Papa John Schnatter shows up, his signature red polo wrinkled and spattered
with cheese and garlic sauce. The famous restaurateur, clearly disheveled and reeking of Makers Mark, demands to know why pizza wasn’t good enough to make the table. “My buffalo chicken pizza is better than any bird you fugkin’ coaches could have cooked up,” he slurs. Then, in a hulk-like rage he grabs the tablecloth at the bottom and pulls with all his pepperoni-fueled might in an attempt to knock all the food off the table. In doing so, however, he loses balance and pulls the entire meal onto himself. John pops up like nothing happened, and with the table now cleared he tosses a stack of his pies into the middle. Neither side is amused — Louisville because this definitely isn’t the first time Papa John has crashed a Redbird family meal, and Kentucky, well, because Jon Hood cries inconsolably every time a basket of Cheesy Tots from Tolly-Ho hits the ground. Of course Billy Gillispie points the finger of blame at Louisville for encouraging such behavior. “Like you have any room to talk,” Rick Pitino retorts, taking a pull from Schnatter’s Star Wars flask. In an attempt to restore the peace Joe B. elaborates on “how good Papa John’s pizza tastes” and even offers a taste of our own Ramsey’s Hot Browns. “Food should pacify them for a while,” he thinks. He thought wrong. A heated discussion about game plays soon follows
An all-out fight erupts. Scratch and Cardinal, who were
just in a playful keg stand competition, are now rolling around on the ground trying to punch through the Styrofoam head their rival is hiding behind. It’s an all out holiday brawl with coach against player, player against mascot, and Papa John against crippling alcoholism — who, by the way, sits slouched over in Crum’s chair snoring loudly and dreaming of commercials with Peyton, all while decades of built up tension unfold around him.
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and Billy Thompson mentions something that ESPN doesn’t shut up about during March Madness, a topic Kentucky shuns from any dinner conversation — the shot Christian Laettner made during the intense 1992 game. The wounds, however old, are still fresh to some of the old timers, and Louisville just poured proverbial salt in them.
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Around campus Send us your party pics to pics@theblacksheeponline.com
on the Streets This Thanksgiving what do you want to be stuffed with? Maddy
“Oh you know... the usual!”
Michael
“None of your damn business!”
Colleen
“Uhm... normal Thanksgiving food, thank you very much?!”
06
The
Top
Ten
Things Wildcats Are Grateful For By: Lucas Troxell
As college students, our gratitude is different from most. Here is a top 10 list of what The Black Sheep thinks we should be most grateful for. 10.) Cheap Beer: Your GPA is higher than the amount of money in your bank account. But don’t panic about having a good time. Natty Light, Keystone Light, and PBR will always be here for us college kids. And for that we are grateful. 9.) Spare Change: Finding a couple quarters in your pants from last night is the equivalent to finding California gold in the 1850’s. If you’re one of those extreme hoarders you save that shit up for months on end. If you’re like us here at The Black Sheep, you prefer spending it on drunken adventures to Taco Bell at 3 a.m. It’s like how the old saying goes, a penny found is a Cheesy Gordita Crunch when you’re plastered.
Thanksgiving:
8.) Cats Cab: Sometimes it seems like everyone on this campus is drunk, and unable to drive. No worries though, Cats Cab will give you a ride anywhere on campus fo’ free. Now if we can just cut down that two hour wait… 7.) Willy T: Even though none of us have ever met Willy T or even know who is he or what he did, we feel like we have a special friendship with him. Willy T is always there for you anytime you need to procrastinate, take an emergency poo, or ride out that Adderall.
Lexington Style
6.) Basketball Season: These masochistic embarrassments we call “football games” on Saturday are getting old. It’s a good thing basketball season is almost here, and we will forever be thankful to Coach Cal and money-magnet he’s created for this fine university.
By: Shauntionne Mosley
5.) Yoga Pants: It’s that time of year, and every male on campus is grateful. Behold the beautiful southern belle-bottoms before the cold, unforgiving winds of winter send those sweet booties behind thicker curtains.
Tis the season to stuff our faces fa la la la la la la la la. Days at the JC are basically wasted fa la la la la la la la. These winter holidays are supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, but in actuality they’re so stressful they make us Wildcats want to claw our eyes out. The most stressful part is the build up of anxiety all year for Grams and every loudmouth auntie of yours to make your favorite dishes (and side comments about how single you are). And since most of us would rather avoid our living-under-a-rock-of-conservatism family members this year, we decided to help you do Thanksgiving yourself. Blue and White style.
“Thanksgiving is more of an American holiday, but who says we can’t incorporate an Italian dish from our brother’s and sisters in Europe.” The Gravy of Campus: Cane Sauce: Oh, how happy we are when we see that oozy brown stuff running amuck on our plates and flirting with our mac and cheese. It reminds us of the tingly-winglies we get when that mystery Cane Sauce drips onto your fries after a Friday night at the Paddock. Nothing says UK Thanksgiving quite like Cane Sauce made by some guy with sweaty palms and weird smile. And hey, if you give him a little wink he might put some extra sauce in there for you. Granny’s never done that. Mashed Potato Upgrade: Cheesy Tots: They’re basically cousins, aren’t they? Your home girl at Tolly Ho can fry it up in a jiffy while everyone else wants to play Chef Boy R’ Dick Around with the spuds. The only difference between cheesy tots and mashed potatoes is
that yellow gold that squirts out in your mouth when you least expect it, waiting for you to gurgle it and swallow… like a good kitty. UK-Style Stuffing: Panda: We like to compare stuffing and fried rice. Not because they’re alike, but because they’re just supposed to be there. No matter what kind of Chinese food you’re into, you will always ask for a side of fried rice, just like your Thanksgiving plate doesn’t look right without the stuffing. We advise you not to make your way to Panda around noon, since by the time you get up to the register it’ll be time to hand out graduation invites.
4.) Tolly Ho: It is well known that drunken Tolly Ho is the best drunken meal on this side of the Mississippi. Keep doing you Tolly Ho, and we’ll keep ordering cheesy scrambled eggs at 2 a.m. after a long night on State Street. 3.) Easy Professors: Those professors who give extra days to complete assignments, and cancel class on rainy Mondays are truly a blessing to academic enhancement. For your understanding of the adolescent mind, we will forever be grateful to you.
Carve the Pizza: And finally the main course, the only time a bird as ugly as a turkey looks good is when it’s on a platter. Although it could never look half as good as some turkey pizza from Mellow Mushroom. Thanksgiving is more of an American holiday, but who says we can’t incorporate an Italian dish from our brothers and sisters in Europe? Drunken karaoke and Mellow Mush is a college students’ dream Wednesday night. The least we can do to show our gratitude is make it the celebrity dish on America’s fattest holiday. UK students have a certain way of doing things and all these food items are a necessity of our beloved Wildcat culture. Imagine how empty life would be without the satisfaction of Canes’ tenders sliding down your esophagus and slam dunking into your stomach. Sure you might be eating a shitload of cheesy tots covered in Cane Sauce alone on Thanksgiving, but these things are a rite of passage on this campus, and more important than your yearly half-drunken fight with your aunt’s boyfriend about joining the military . We understand that Gram’s green bean casserole is tradition and traditions are never to be broken, but this is Wildcat country and we are the tradition, so we call the shots. Happy Thanksgiving!
2.) Sororitutes and Frat Stars: After a long and stressful school week, a random weekend hook up can be on point. Luckily we have slutty sororities and more than willing frat boys lurking all around campus at all times. You won’t need to be up all night to get lucky thanks to these upstanding citizens. 1.) Winter Break: It’s the point in the semester where we are all worn out from partying every weekend, cramming for exams, and pulling all-nighters to finish that last minute homework. The last thing on our minds is more weeks on end of school without a break. It’s safe to say, campus wide we are grateful winter break is closing fast.
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Bluegrass Wednesdays! FREE COVER, LIVE BLUEGRASS @ 9! $3 PBR Tall Boys, $1 Shots of Kentucky Tavern, $4 Fireball Shots!
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Friday 11/22
Happy Hour 2-7pm 2-4-1 10pm-1am with Live Music!
SUNDAY: Buy 2 Hookah Get 1 Free
Fireball Friday! $4 Fireball Shots
LADIES NIGHT! ALL NIGHT $2 House Tequila Shots & $8 Barrel Bowls! Live music and enjoy one of over 130 bourbons available in our Mezzanine Bourbon Bar
Saturday 11/23
Two Keys $2 Tuesday $2 Well drinks, $2 Domestic pints, and DJ Rain keeping the dance floor packed
Monday 11/25
Thirsty Thursday! Happy Hour prices all night long!
Happy Hour Mon-Sat 2-7PM!
FRIDAY! Ladies Night! 5pm - 2:30am No Cover for Ladies
Tuesday 11/26
Bluegrass Wednesdays! FREE COVER, LIVE BLUEGRASS @ 9! $3 PBR Tall Boys, $1 Kentucky Tavern Shots, $4 Fireball Shots!
Wednesday 11/27
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Thursday 11/21
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The Five Stages of “What Would I Say?” sort
Brooke Gabriel shared an article: The new Facebook app “What Would I Say?” brings with it two things: 1.) A reminder that Facebook apps are still a thing, and 2.) Such advanced, mind-blowing technology that can only be described as the Internet’s answer to magnetic poetry. Basically, this program goes through your Facebook account, chops up every sentence and phrase you’ve ever posted on there, and then stitches new ones together into a sort of wordcollage. And just like collaging, sometimes you wind up with an incoherent jumble (think back to art class in first grade, or a sad girl’s “dream board”), and other times you get the Facebook equivalent of a portrait of a guy’s face made up of smaller pictures of the same dude’s face. And while this might appear harmless upon first glance, The Black Sheep has noticed some disturbing trends are starting to emerge among chronic WWIS users. After spending several hours generating statuses and eating raw cookie dough in our Snuggies lots of careful research, we’ve discovered that there are five stages of WWIS use. Those of you who completed an introductory psych class will notice that they’re the five stages of grief, but in reverse. It’s our hope that you share these with your friends and family to protect them, and yourself, from the inevitable emotional toil that comes from reliving Facebook past:
Acceptance:
In this stage, everything’s hunky-dory with you and your youbot. It’s easy to forget how funny and brilliant you are, and it’s great that your pal WWIS is here to remind you that you’ve always been this way. Remember that time when you posted that hilarious “Thanks, Obama!” status last year? WWIS does, and it’s here to show you that it’s even funnier when you mush it together with this years’ equally brilliant post about how much you hate doing homework. “Homework on the first day of the semester?? THANKS, OBAMA!” Oh, you! When was the last time someone really got you this way? This youbot knows your favorite sports teams, the things that matter to you, and always seems to say the right thing at the right time. It’s like you’ve hit that magical point in a relationship where you start to finish each other’s FRIDAY NIGHT ugh homework the weather partaaay!
Depression:
The acceptance phase—in which your love of “What Would I say” could fill the Grand Canyon-- can last for quite a while, and those with lives and/or any semblance of a work ethic may never pass it, but for those who don’t (we’re looking at you, guy who has a paper due in less than 12 hours): beware. Eventually, probably after click 200 or so, WWIS will unearth your posts of Facebook past, and the results aren’t pretty. Remember how you used to post Dashboard Confessional/Alkaline Trio/Postal Service/Emo McSadSad lyrics after a particularly trying day of 9th grade? You will soon. WWIS will also eventually remind you just how much you used to lo0o0o0ove your backstabbing skank of a bff, the adorable pet name you called your recent ex, or just how many times you used “your” when you should have written “you’re”. Was past you really that tragic? Let’s see: “my hopes are so hi that ur kiss mite kill meee <333 RUSH TRI DELT 2012” -youbot You tell us.
The Five Stages of “What Would I Say?”
Bargaining:
In this stage, you’re not ready to accept the ugly truth that WWIS has placed before you, and you’ve started to click wildly, hoping that if you just keep hitting “Generate Status” eventually things will go back to the way they were. You may find yourself pleading with the app, “C’mon, WWIS, take something I said to a friend out of context so I can post it on their wall and show everyone what crazy, kooky buddies we are!” Or “What’s it gonna take for me to get you to string a bunch of buzzwords together to show everyone who’s already read my posts once again how topical and witty they are? I’ll do anything – I’ll even click on that donate to the Philippines button if I have to!”
Anger
Eventually, you’ll grow tired of the app’s refusal to give you what you want, and your initial sadness will turn into frustration, even anger. Of course, these feelings are totally valid. After all, you would think that a free app that you found on the Internet would have a little more integrity, right? You’re a busy individual, how dare it waste your time by re-using material from the same post more than once! Also – a ton of this shit doesn’t even make sense, and while you’ve posted some regrettable nonsense, at least your stuff doesn’t sound like a drunk Yoda said it. So take that, WWIS! And another thing! Sometimes this youbot doesn’t even try to be clever, it just regurgitates your shit verbatim. You came here expecting to be dazzled, and your Facebook friends deserve better than just original content that you think up yourself. Seriously, how lazy can this app be?
Denial:
You’ve reached the conclusion that WWIS really just doesn’t get you. You’re much more complex than this youbot character, and your Facebook posts are much more eloquent and nuanced than whatever thought-jumble this silly app can whip up. Also, you’re pretty sure there’s a fault in the software, because you definitely didn’t hop onboard the “Kony 2012” train like all of those other chumps, and it seems to be under the impression that you’d say “SHARE KONY 2012scarf weather luvvv”. At this point, you’re not 100% sure where exactly the app’s getting its information from, but you’re certain that it’s not from your Facebook page. And just to prove a point, you go to post the most you-ish status that you can possibly think of, but then get sidetracked looking at all of the “What Would I Say?” posts from friends in your Newsfeed. Huh, these are pretty funny… maybe I should go check it out again…
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Hamocrat’s
War on Thanksgiving By: black sheep staff Thanksgiving: Pilgrims came over in giant ships that were awful and contained more disease than a frat house bathroom, the food was abysmal, children starved, and giant sea monsters you’ll never hear about thanks to the liberal media attacked the pilgrims every step of the way. After the long and torturous sojourn, they landed at Plymouth Rock, and after a hella-good harvest, some Puritan was like, “Fuck it, let’s eat all this food at once until we can’t move and have to sleep for 16 hours.” Everyone else fervently agreed and thus Thanksgiving was born. Although we still celebrate Thanksgiving and all its glorious traditions, some contemporary families have declared war on the holiday. And no, we’re not talking about your druncle who says “But American Indians weren’t even at the first Thanksgiving, so why can’t I wear sweats to th-zzzzz?” No, we are of course talking about those Thanksgivers who cook ham instead of turkey on this blessed day. We want to begin by pointing out the ob-
vious fact that no one in their right mind calls it “Ham Day” for short, they rightfully declare Thanksgiving “Turkey Day.” What the hell would “Ham Day” even entail? Roasting a pig while some dude with a ponytail plays Meatloaf covers on the ukulele? This is Thanksgiving, not a Hawaiian bar mitzvah. Pig roasts are only acceptable for to specific occasions: The aforementioned Jewish coming-of-age celebrations and the day we set aside for remembering the Bay of Pigs, but only as an ironic statement about the failed structure of Cuban socialism. Nonetheless, ham needs to squeal its way off of our Thanksgiving tables. We all know what this really means, though. It’s a liberal effort to bring down the religious sanctity of Thanksgiving, with the efforts of the liberal media, such as Rachel Ray and Guy Fieri, giving families “great alternative recipes for Thanksgiving feasts.” We know what alternative means: gay or socialist. Truth be told, the left-wing media has had it out for Thanksgiving and what the
holiday means for years. Thanksgiving, as the pilgrims would have it, is about the Puritanical beliefs adhered to on the first feast. It’s there so we can celebrate the bounty that God hath provided throughout the year so we can receive his happiness in the year to come. And as the Bible says, around Chapter 10 of Psalms, or Proverbs, or John, or somewhere near the front: “Thou shall not eat pigs, except in the form of bacon, and definitely not on the day of Thanks, which will later be called Thanksgiving, and will mainly be celebrated in the United States, on the fourth Thursday of November, and on the second Monday of October in Canada. On this day they main dish shall be Turkey and everybody who says different is a liar and a sinner.” We are not paraphrasing, look it up. Or do you not own a Bible, you liberal media whore? Now, some of you may say, “But, I have an allergy to all kinds of fowl, and if I eat Turkey then I’ll die.” Not to sound unsympathetic or anything, but tough nuts, pal. We’re not going to back down because of
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some weak-ass dietary restrictions (which of course sound like made-up hippie nonsense to us). If you’re hungry, go eat another biscuit and be thankful you’re not one of those gluten-free assholes. Allergies are 90% psychological and can be cured by sheer will power and large amounts of Echinacea. Jesus wasn’t allergic to anything. Anything but bullshit. We love Thanksgiving here at The Black Sheep, and we’re thankful that we have a day to show how much more thankful we are than everybody else, thankfully. But when you go and mess with the sacred
holiday, we have to put our foot down and tell it how it is. We don’t always like this job, but somebody has to do it. So do us a huge favor and when Mom or Granny, or whichever female cooks the Thanksgiving feast in your household suggests that you change things up this year and make a glazed ham instead of a succulent stuffed turkey, call them a terrorist and throw that piece of shit in the trash. Obama might have won health care, but we’ll shut the government down again if we have to in order to end the War on Thanksgiving.
Bartender of the Week Relationship Status: Single Favorite Drink: Woodford Reserve and Sprite Favorite Shot: Jameson with pickle juice Disgusting Drink: Cum in a hot-tub If you could replace the turkey as Thanksgiving’s centerpiece, what food would you replace it with?: Squirrel What three items go in your college cornucopia?: A funnel, plastic hose, and duck tape.
Jeff of Jefferson Davis Inn Drinking Game
What balloon would you float in the Macy’s Day Parade?: Snoopy.
How concerned are you that the turkey getting the presidential pardon ends up spending a bunch of your hard-earned money on Obamacare?: It depends on any pre-existing conditions. What fast food item would be better if it were made with turkey?: NONE at all! How racist is the phrase “BLACK Friday”?: Uber racist. But for real, dark meat or light meat?: Dark meat. What if turkeys were actually made out of horses?: I would still eat it.
Recipe for disaster
Happy Shotsgiving (and Taking)
Cranberry Apple Crisp
Not all families are totally cool with the whole “drinking during family parties” thing. If you’re stuck in one of those families, there’s still a way to get your buzz on discreetly with a cousin or two.
Thanksgiving dinner has many staple items that everyone seems to look forward to every year—stuffing, pumpkin pie, the turkey (duh) and cranberry sauce. This season, make your own variation on that last one with this recipe we found for Cranberry Apple Crisp.
What You’ll Need: A bottle of Wild Turkey (or anything you’re interested in taking shots or sips of ) and a boat full of gravy. Number of Players: As many as you want. Level of Intoxication: Depends on how wacko your family members are. How to Play: - Take a shot of the Wild Turkey/beer/whatever every time one of these things happen: - That notoriously weird relative does something notoriously weird. - Someone asks, “Do you want light or dark meat?” - Your little cousin complains about eating vegetables. - Someone makes a sex joke about stuffing the turkey. - A balloon blows away during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. - Your football team of choice scores a touchdown. - Someone asks you how long you’re home from school or if you have any job prospects. - You eat so many appetizers you feel stuffed before dinner is served. - The host forgets a dish in the oven and never gets to serve it. - Someone asks for a recipe of someone else’s dish. - Take a shot of the gravy every time one of these things happen: - You take a shot of alcohol that just doesn’t sit right. - You want to grab some more dessert but feel really guilty about it. - Someone leaves early to start Black Friday shopping. - The underdog football team wins. - Someone says you look like you’ve gained or lost weight. The Game Ends When: Everyone goes home, or you’re in the bathroom puking up the delicious meal you just consumed.
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What You’ll Need: 3 cups chopped/peeled tart apples, 2 cup fresh or frozen cranberries, 1 cup sugar, 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour, 1 and 1/2 cups quick-cooking oats, 1/2 cup flour, 1/2 cup brown sugar, 1/2 cup melted butter, and 1/4 cup chopped pecans. Cook Time: Just over an hour Fatty Factor: It was on Pinterest; none of that shit is healthy. Let’s Get Baked: - Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. - Grab a bowl and combine the apples, cranberries, sugar and flour. - Grease an 11-inch by 7-inch baking dish and pour in the mixed ingredients. - Mix the oats, flour, brown sugar, melted butter and chopped pecans in another bowl. - Sprinkle these ingredients on top of the dish as a topping. - Bake it for 50-55 minutes or until the fruit is tender. Bring it over to your girlfriend’s house for Thanksgiving and make her family love you … and make yours jealous you’d never do anything like that for them.
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Synonyms For Drunk
Blacked Out Blitzed Bombed Hammered Inebriated Intoxicated Juiced Liquored Up Loaded Obliterated
Plastered Plowed Ripped Sauced Shit Faced Sloshed Smashed Tanked Tipsy Wasted
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