Michigan State - Issue 14 - 11/21/2013 by The Black Sheep

The Black Sheep

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Vol. 9, Issue 14

The College Newspaper That's Actually About College

11/21/13 - 12/5/13

Hamocrats’ War on Thanksgiving BY: Cody Manthei 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 obvious 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. Nonethe-

less, 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 some weak-ass dietary restrictions

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TOp 10: Things You Never Knew About MSU Ready for your relatives to pester you about college? Hit them with these ten MSU Facts.

(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.

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The First Fratsgiving

The Inner-Monologue of Grandma on Thanksgiving

Colony bros and indian hoes at Grandma’s does not go over well.

Keep Up With Us! @BlackSheep_MSU • theblacksheeponline.com

What goes through Granny’s mind as she gets sauced while making gravy.

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Puritanicall

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Any phone sex session that refuses to use swear words. “If you want to make a puritanicall, simply say, “Oh yeah baby, I want you to massage my man parts while I lick your sex organ.’”

Week Guess The Mascot Tweet Us @BlackSheep_MSU First right answer wins a prize!

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If yours proves to be the weirdest, you’ll win a prize and be featured in next week’s issue!

Last Week’s Answer: The Oregon Duck

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Celebrity Before & After Just like Jeopardy!, our before and after asks you to pair two unlike things, sharing only a word. Because we’re as vapid as the rest of you, a celebrity name will always be involved. Tweet your answer @BlackSheep_MSU and use #goodtimes for a chance to win a prize!

Big-headed fratire founder could use this 80s computer-generated host to help house an inflated ego. Last Week’s Answer: Lamar Odometer

Around campus send us your party pics to pics@theblacksheeponline.com

on the Streets Where’s the weirdest place you’ve found yourself at 4 a.m.?

ior Connor, Jun

“I don’t know, I’m always blacked out.”

ior Rachel, Jun

“Under my bed, hiding from the horse cops.”

s Zac, Junior Michael and

“Spartan Stadium.”

Seasonal Affective Disorder Prescription:

Give up and watch Netflix

The

Top

Ten

Things You Never Knew About MSU By: Zach Wyrzykowski

10.) We used to be the Aggies: Before we were represented by our favorite foam warrior, MSU students proudly cheered for the Aggies. Until 1925, when the university decided that a bunch of sweaty Greek soldiers are slightly more intimidating than a bunch of sweaty farmers. 9.) Teddy Fucking Roosevelt: That’s right. In 1907, America’s most ass-kicking, bull moose-riding, bullet-deflecting president visited Michigan State and gave the commencement speech for a class of 99 graduates. 8.) Landscaping 101: When MSU was founded, it was literally in the middle of the woods. To solve this problem, students had to wake up at 5:30 and cut trees, dig foundations, and drain swamps before going to class. Think about that next time you’re “like, totally dying” in your morning class. 7.) Girls just want to have fun: MSU was an all-men’s college until 1870, when President Theophilus Abbott decided that maybe, just maybe, girls and college would be a good mix. That year, the first coed was admitted, and the rest is booty-shaking, boob-filled history. Next time you spot a pair of voluptuous yogas strutting down Red Cedar, thank Theophilus. 6.) Hannah was a boss: President John Hannah, whose statue stands outside the Hannah Administration Building, was the closest thing MSU has seen to an emperor, and reigned from 1941 to 1969. In his well-manicured hands, this school grew like debt on a grad student, and officially became a university instead of a college. Hannah also got MSU into the Big Ten, because even he knew that universities are like sex: all that really matters is size and athletic ability. 5.) $550 million: That’s how much the new facility for researching rare isotope beams will cost, roughly twice the GDP of the combined islands of Micronesia. That’s enough to give every one of the 48,000 students here eleven thousand dollars. Normally this would seem wrong, but wicked awesome science projects aren’t cheap.

By: Brendon White We’re currently in the home stretch of the semester, and by now you know where you stand in your classes. For some this means it’s time to buckle down and keep grindin’, but for others it’s time to throw in the towel. Yes, you. Face it, it’s over. You’ve missed so many classes you can’t even remember the courses you’re registered in. And that one time you actually attended class you were so high you copied a class’ worth of notes down without any ink in your pen. Don’t look so down, all is not lost. There is one thing out there that is universally known to be much more important than doing well in your classes: Netflix.

of Cake Boss. You’ve missed so much school that you can’t remember how to log into Angel. You think Desire2Learn is a new reality show about dwarf-immigrants adapting 2 American customs.

By now everyone on the planet has access to Netflix, whether you got the password through seven degrees of a friend, or you’re the sucker paying for the account. And if by some phenomenon you’re not enjoying the wonderful world of Netflix, that’s on you. Use your resources you dunce, no wonder you’re failing out of school.

For the people on the fence about abandoning all hope and spending the rest of your days in bed with a hot laptop on your fat belly, do it. Even if you have the chance to make a comeback so great that could make you a legend amongst the slackers in your drum circle, it’s still not worth it. Netflix is so much better than the accounting class you hate. Growing up you were always told to follow your dreams, so grow a pair and spend your college days living vicariously through your favorite PLL characters.

From your favorite childhood movies to the most absurd anime cartoons, what more could you ask for? You could spend a whole semester glued to Netflix and never watch the same thing twice. Netflix is a dangerous thing, however. The bigwigs at The Black Sheep have done countless studies on how Netflix affects the minds of our youth and the results aren’t encouraging. A brain on Netflix resembles a brain coming down from MDMA every 20-60 minutes, depending on what you watch. But face it, you were wasting your mind anyway; might as well finish it off by watching every episode

If you’re feeling guilty about giving up, don’t. There’s also educational shit on Netflix so you can still learn stuff good. You could learn about WWI, elephants, or even your favorite drug(s). Did you know hammerhead sharks use their weird heads to pin down stingrays? Well, Netflix sure does, and it’s dying to tell you all about it.

We’ve officially passed this semester’s point of no return and for a lot of us there is nothing left to do but smoke grass and watch every episode of Dexter’s Lab, or Dexter, depending on your mood. There is no shame in waving the white flag and giving up on the semester, you’ll get ‘em next time. Unless you’re a senior, then you’ll be turning this hobby into a full time gig in a few months, so practice up. Just make sure you have Menna’s on speed dial and close the blinds… you have work to do.

4.) MSU fights terrorism: In 2009, the MSU Dubai satellite campus was having funding problems and faced closure. A Dubai-based company with Iranian investors stepped up to save the campus, but Lou Anna K, codename Silver Vixen, wasn’t about to fall for their ruse. After contacting the CIA, she decided she’d rather let the campus close than accept funding from possible enemies of the red, white and awesome. MSU 1, Terrorists 0. Suck it. 3.) Famous alumni: From Magic Johnson to the Prime Minister of Jordan, to the owner of Biggby Coffee, some interesting dudes and dudettes have called themselves Spartans. 2.) Picking up U of M’s slack: When the state decided to fund MSU in the early 1850s, the wellmustached men of Ann Arbor reportedly fell to the ground and begged the state to reconsider. The last thing the Wolverines wanted was competition. If they had done what they were told and started an agricultural program they may have gotten their wish, but instead they decided to teach the more useful subjects, like Latin and ass-kissing. The state government finally got tired of their shit and funded the Michigan Agricultural College, and UM hasn’t gotten their shit together since.

1.) The Fight Song: That sexy, universal Spartan theme song was written way back in 1915 by Francis Lankey, a cheerleader. We can only assume that the first time we beat the Wolverines the band marched down Grand River playing “Hail to the Victors” really sarcastically, since we didn’t have a song yet.

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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-at-home 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 East Lansing. 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 RayBans. “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.

Black Friday: A Tale of A True Spartan By: Zoë Kremke

“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,

It’s Thanksgiving evening, and while fat Uncle Joe is falling asleep on the couch, murmuring food comainduced nothings about the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, Julie is casually jogging on the treadmill while carefully cutting coupons from today’s paper. For her, Thanksgiving is wonderful. Obviously, it’s a time for her and her family to get together around a single table and truly bond over turkey, cranberries, and football. But, more than that, it’s the time that Julie goes Black Friday shopping every year. Now, every time she tells someone this, they get all up in her grill. They say Black Friday is stupid and isn’t worth her time. She knows better than to believe these suckers. Little do they know that Black Friday is the event that Julie is preparing for all year. She keeps her body in perfect physical form so she can outrun the swarms of exhausted mothers who are just trying to get discounted Christmas gifts for their brood of sticky, smelly children. She takes self-defense classes so that when she sees that little old lady holding onto the last 75% off iPod, she can roundhouse kick her in the chest and take what is rightfully hers. Julie practices coupon clipping by timing herself when she cuts out grocery coupons every week. That’s dedication, and nobody understands how much true Spartans appreciate Black Friday. Really, in Julie’s opinion, all college students are Goddamn idiots if they don’t see Black Friday as the best holiday thought up by corporate America. Who cares if it perpetuates the glittering role of consumerism in American society? You can get a flat screen T.V. for under $100, and if you’re not jumping on that, you’re wrong. Plain and simple. Julie looks around at her aging, middle class, small town family with a mild sense of pity. They’ll never be able to keep up with her tomorrow, and it’s likely they’ll get all offended when Julie “abandons” them at

“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 booze-infested 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.

Best Buy because they’re just taking too damn long. Julie realizes she’s talking to herself and a gaggle of her younger cousins are uncomfortably staring at her. She shoos them away, and continues violently clipping out a coupon for half off at Bath & Body Works. Night falls and Julie dresses in her best, most aerodynamic workout gear so that when she wakes up at 2 a.m. she can bolt straight for the car. Her hair is neatly plaited in some kind of bizarre, Hunger Gamesinspired braid down the back of her neck. She closes her eyes, knowing that when her alarm sounds, everything she’s worked for over the past 365 days will finally be hers. All those paychecks saved, all those nights out avoided. Last week, her boss made fun of her when she told him about her Black Friday tradition. “You selfish college student, does your generation perpetually feel the need to acquire more than they already have? Isn’t it ever enough?” Julie chose to ignore this comment; she knew that someone like her boss would never understand the true meaning of Black Friday. He’s worn the same sweater for weeks and still has a flip-phone. Now, on Julie’s nightstand, sits a lengthy list titled “To Buy.” She has neatly outlined what she’s purchasing for each family member, each friend, and every last Angel Tree child she has excitedly signed up to purchase for over the last few months. This is what makes Julie special. Black Friday shopping is wonderful because of the deals, but Julie’s Spartan goodwill always prevents her from blowing all of her cash on herself. Her sweet, sweet money is typically spent on those she loves, setting her apart from the greedy college yuppies basically everywhere else. As Julie drifts off to sleep, full from all that pumpkin pie, and happy with her carefully outlined shopping plan, she dreams of all the joy she’s going to bring to others this holiday season the coolest way possible: on a budget, with a winner’s attitude. Like a boss.

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The Inner-Monologue of Your

Grandma on Thanksgiving By: MSU Staff Our grandparents lived through some of the realest wars, social shifts, and drinking regulations in American history. Grandparents are like the Founding Fathers of the Golden Age of this country, and they don’t give a shit about anything but being nice to you, going on cruises, and popping pain killers on the reg. If you’ve ever wondered what goes through Granny’s mind as she prepares for Turkey Day, it’s something like this. “Welp, Thanksgiving again this year. What time is it? 9:30. Better make an Irish coffee. I bet this fatass won’t wake up for another hour and a half.” Your grandma pours herself a hot cup of coffee in her nightgown. She looks lovely even when she wakes up because she’s from a classier era and she’s your grandma. She pours three seconds worth of Bailey’s into the mug and preheats the oven. Your grandpa slumbers.

“I told everyone to come around noon to watch football and have family time before dinner, but no one comes on time and most of those little shits have hormones now anyway,” she thinks. “I don’t want to hang out with my grandkids when they’re poppin’ boners and listening to god damn Millie Spears.”

“I hope Janet doesn’t drink six glasses of wine and cry about animal cruelty again this year,” your Grandma tells him. “Our own kids are lightweights—at least the grandkids can hang,” Gramps replies. “Maybe Jason will ‘convince’ me to play beer pong again. I can only hope,” she says as she polishes off her coffee.

“I don’t want to hang out with my grandkids when they’re poppin’ boners and listening to god damn Millie Spears.”

Several hours later, you walk through the door with your family close behind. You hug your grandma, then do a KeithAppling-esque spin move directly to the cookies and the veggie tray. Your siblings go straight to the living room and lock down the best post-feast couch spots.

She takes a swig from her coffee and lays out all the food. Turkey, stuffing, cornbread, mash potatoes, that weird beet-jelly stuff, green beans, all the fixins. “Smells great,” your grandpa says just after waking up, putting on a polo, then a pair of pants and walking through the kitchen en route to a comfier area—his chair.

“Well, they all look slightly older than they did last time I saw them. They don’t grow up so fast, they grow up exactly as fast as you would think. Time to get sauced,” Grandma thinks to herself. “Hey, Pattie, grab the wine please, sweetie” she says kindly. “Who wants to say grace?”

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You smile and look at everyone in your family, whom you’ve happily told you were an atheist many times, partly because you might be but also just so you don’t have to say grace ever again. Your sister volunteers and mumbles about how all religion is the same in the end and we shouldn’t repeat the pilgrims’ mistakes or some shit. “What the fuck is she talking about?” your Grandma thinks. “I made 70% of this goddamn meal, these bastards brought chips and guacamole, and now I’ve gotta

sit here and listen to this while yet another one of my culinary masterpieces gets cold? Hell no, I’m too old for this shit.” “Rubba-dub-dub, let’s grub” your Grandma blurts out, interrupting your sister. She stabs a hearty chunk of turkey with her fork. Your sister shuts the hell up and you all stuff your face while mumbling about the Lions and college sports. Another successful Turkey Day, mainly because your grandma is both a saint and a legend.

The Bar Grid

January 2010

Happy Hour: Monday – Friday 3-6pm. $2.00: Domestic Pints $2.50: Well Drinks ½ Off: Potato Skins, Onion Rings, and Hush Puppies.

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Book Harper’s & RUSH For Fundraisers, Meet and Greets, Barcrawls!

$2 Wells $3 All Pints $4 Pitchers of Labatt DJ Juan Trevino

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NO COVER! $2.50 ALL Call Drinks $2.50 Miller Lite, Coors Lite and Rolling Rock Bottles, $2.50 Call Drinks, $3.50 Long Islands, $2.50 SoCo Lime and Kamikaze shots

$3 Made-in-Michigan Beers (Bottles and Pints), $5 Off Bottles & $1 Off Glasses of All, Our Made in Michigan Wines, $6 Pitchers of Oasis Mai Tai's, $3.50 Glasses of Oasis Mai Tai's, $3 Off Select Appetizers

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Book Harper’s & RUSH Special Events B-Days, Graduation, and Greek Functions!

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No Cover! Burger Bash 3-8PM 1/2 off All Wells, Calls, Pints, Bottles, Pitchers, Shots and Bombs $2.50 ALL Call Drinks, $2.50 Miller Lite, Coors Lite and Rolling Rock Bottles, $2.50 Call Drinks, $3.50 Long Islands, $2.50 SoCo Lime and Kamikaze shots

$2 Domestic Pints & Wells $3 Premium/Micro/Craft Pints $3.50 Beef Schawarma Sandwiches, $5.50 Falafel Salads & $6 Chicken Schawarma Salads

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Manvember: A Month for Men By: Randy Dickerman In recent years it’s become increasingly clear that the month of November is all about being a man. A goddamned beard-stroking, turkey-devouring, whiskey-slamming, mean sonofabitch. All in one testosterone-filled month we’ve got No Shave November, Movember, and that holiday where we cram gluttonous amounts of highly-caloric food into our faces while actively choosing football over “family interaction.” Males have a lot to live up to this man month, and dealing with these expectations can be difficult. We’re encouraged to act like boozed-up Neanderthals as much as possible, and reaffirm the notion that most of our decision making habits can be thrown into the categories of drunken and/or primal. Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Randy, you’re not exactly the quintessential alpha-male. You can barely read past an 8th grade level, you curl sandwiches instead of weights, and your drunk uncle still calls you queer at every family gathering. You got through your dress-up-like-mommy stage not too long ago, that rep’ will be sticking around awhile.” To this I reply: You don’t know shit about Randy. I once fucked my babysitter when her parents weren’t home. All that aside, there’s still hope for you to show off your brazen masculinity this month regardless of how little there actually is. And let’s be honest, you’re a nancy-boy reading a fake college paper. There can’t be much.

We all know that guy, the one whose beard serves as part Zach-Galifianakis-replica and part crumb-saver. We envy hate these Chewbacca lookin’ assholes, but the thing to remember here is not to be intimidated by them. Your sparsely-populated jawline looks more like a set of pubes that are second guessing whether they should come in or not, and it’s pretty gross. Nevertheless, you wear that makeshift pube-beard with pride, and you let those hairy pricks know that if you were such a pansy, you wouldn’t have been participating in No Shave November since April. Slam a shot of maple-syrup-whiskey if they try to question your manhood. Outside of proving how big your manhood is by how much dirty hair is on your face, Thanksgiving, a day supposedly spent in the refuge of family and loved ones, also proves to be a gauntlet of testosterone. The men in your family don’t feel much like family at all. The old ones are wilting, softer, beat up versions of themselves. After a few scotches they’re quick to point out how you won’t come remotely close to the success they’ve enjoyed in their middle-management careers, which they got rich off of while fucking up the entire country for our generation. The young ones, your previously cute cousins who used to be by your side at all times, are now better-looking, stronger, smarter versions of your state-schooled ass. Someone has to be the “fuck-up cousin” and with nothing but wit and time on their side, it looks like

you’re in the crosshairs. The key here is outclass both factions. What would Ron Swanson do? You need to drink the old ones under the table, which will result in you throwing up after your fourth scotch, or them getting sentimental over their glory days gone by. Then you need to reassert your dominance over the little ones, and there’s only one way to do that: by kicking their asses. Unfortunately for you, those little ones are now protein-shake-guzzling teenagers who discovered

the weight room. They’ll beat the hell outta you, so challenge them in billiards or drinking games. Who cares if they’re 15? Seven consecutive losses in quarters will turn them into men in no time. Remind yourself that you can grow hair on your face, you crave meat and alcohol, and no one can bust your balls. Speaking of busting balls, if you don’t rub one out all month, testosterone will be coming out of your ears and you’ll be primed for the next manly month: Dick-Givin’-December. Somebody has to be Santa.

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Bartender of the Week Relationship Status: In a relationship Major: Hospitality business Favorite Drink: Belvedere on the rocks

Build a perfect sandwich.: The Famous! (corned beef, coleslaw, swiss cheese, Russian dressing on rye.) If you had to, you’d get elephantiasis of the…: I think everybody knows the answer.

Favorite Shot: Jameson up Disgusting Drink: Alien urine sample Where’s the weirdest place you’ve found yourself at 4a.m.?: Club Rush on New Years. If you could eliminate one word from the English language, what would it be, and why?: Irregardless, because it’s actually not a word. What’s your spirit animal?: A parrot because I talk a lot.

What junk food flavoring would you bottle and package, if you could?: Cool Ranch Doritos powder. What superpower has the most potential, from a sexual standpoint?: Telekinesis, you can get things done with your mind. Do you want daddy to make it all better?: No. Why should people read The Black Sheep?: To educate themselves about topics in the area, and it’s free!

Rob of Spencer’s Drinking Game

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.

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.

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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