24 beers in 24 hours...almost

Paul Newman day. What a great day it is, in honor of something famous that he once may have said perhaps, we take it upon ourselves to drink twenty four beers in twenty four hours. A true test of drinking endurance, pacing, stamina and tolerance. Indeed a true of test of manliness. The kind of challenge Flanders relishes and lives for.

At the beginning of the week, I had informed Flanders that I wanted to start the day off by shotgunning on top of Mt. D at sunrise, to mark the beginning of a day of debauchery. Overcome by sleepless nights of work, I backed down from the idea, but Flanders remained set on it, and started his Newman Day by hiking to the top of Mt. D. early (just after sunrise) and shotgunning a beer... by himself. He then came back to the room and proceeded with the drinking while playing chess against an electronic opponent. On Newman Day we keep track of our beers on our arms, and by lunchtime Flanders had eight marks on his left arm, and another five on his right arm, indicating the number of times he'd used the bathroom.

By lunch things were already a little bit out of hand. Flanders spilled a bit on the way to lunch and during lunch itself, but for the most part kept himself mostly in control. After lunch we went to go help to outing club cut the hole in the puddle for the annual puddle jump. Flanders continued to gas beers during this time, and for the safety of all those involved we left him to push ice blocks far away from the hole in the hopes that he wouldn't fall in. After the puddle jump naked, flanders went back to watch and proceeded to drink quite a few more beers, often within direct proximity and visibility of mutliple deans and faculty members.

After the puddle jump we went back to the circus to play some foosball before dinner. In addition to playing terribly, by the end of this period, Flanders had had twenty beers. This is where things began to get interesting. On the way from the circus to commons we took great amusement in watching flanders stumble from one side of the street to the other, falling into snowbanks no less than six times. outside of the science center we saw the astronomy professor, observing the moon through his telescope. Intrigued we decided we wanted to go take a look. When the professor saw flanders he said, "This child smells of the drink. I think he's had a few too many. Somebody should take him to a quiet place and sit him down so that he can recover." Flanders then tried to strike up a conversation with the professor about mars rovers or something and then decided he wanted to take a look in the telescope. He leaned but in his drunkenness missed and instead smoked his head on the eyepiece of the telescope, he was lucky to have not knocked the telescope over. He wished the professor good evening and teetered off towards commons. He leaned over and whispered "I fucking wasn't able to see shit through that thing". We know buddy, we know.

Dinner was a shitshow for everyone involved. At this point things got hazy enough that I don't remember everything, but I've been able to piece together the details. Flanders was still drinking beers out of his Nalgene. Halfway through dinner he spilled out a large quantity of the Nalgene and then had nothing left do drink. One of our friends arrived to dinner and Flanders greeted him by grabbing his balls and grunting, "where is it?" He later tried to legitimize this action by explaining that someone had stolen his belt, and so he was trying to grab the kids belt and missed in his drunkenness. The reality of the story is that Flanders actually was still wearing his belt.
Next Flanders decided he was hungry. He went to the pizza and starting grabbing entire slices of pizza with his hands and stuff them into his mouth. Evidently, the entire slice wouldn't fit in his mouth so most of the pizza ended up on his shirt. soon his shirt was covered in tomato sauce and assorted pizza debris. One girl decided she wanted some pizza, bravely asked flanders if that was ok, and when he turned to address her, she decided she would probably prefer eating something else than dealing with this saucy drunk.
sometime after this last event, flanders disappeared, we had no idea where he was for the two hours following dinner. We later learned that on his way out of commons he decided he had to pee. He went into the restroom to discover that the urinal was occupied. Unwilling to wait, Flanders ripped the poor startled kid off of the urinal, screaming "Get out of the way" and then relieving himself. Afterwards, we believe that he went to the basketball game for a while but no one is certain. Also we heard a rumor that a long haired weirdo was seen running naked around campus. Sure sounds like the man we know and love.
We finally found him at the circus, passed out on the couch clutching a half finished beer. When we woke him up, he was so startled that he spilled the rest of the beer over himself. He proceeded to go back to sleep and thus ended his Newman Day. 21 beers in under 20 hours, still impressive Flanders, but next time pacing yourself might work. Nevertheless we owe you this story, so thanks I guess. Easy bud.

Updates from first semester

First semester was a little mellower for the Flanman because he was working hard to finish his thesis. Sure he still drank a lot, but almost inavariably, he would pass out due to lack of sleep before anything hilarious could happen. The week in which he finished his thesis he finally us gave the entertainment we'd been craving. Immediately after turning it in he began to pound beers...by himself. After dinner we went to play some foosball in the circus, and he was already quite inebriated. After a few rounds of foos in which he played terribly, the rest of us left him to go do work, and a rather wasted flanders was left by himself in the circus. He stumbled into the room next door where rodeo was working on a play. After berating her with his high opinion of theater, he decided to try to read some of the play's line in character. The passage he read was supposed to be read tonelessly but in his stupor flanders misinterpreted it as toothlessly. His subsequent reading of an entire passage of the play toothlessly was, as I've been made to understand, one of the funniest things he's ever done, which is high praise for flanders.
The following weekend, the team had a party to celebrate the end of the semester and season. And what would a team party without plenty of o-whip to go around, three jugs worth actually. After passed around nearly a jug and a half worth of whip, flanders tricked a kid into playing rock-paper-scissors drink. Though he lost he told the kid to drink anyways, and the kid agreed saying alright, i'll take a swig if you finish the rest of the jug afterwards. Always up for a challenge Flanders agreed.
He went into the driveway to finish about a quart of whip by himself. Though most of us though he would die, some of the players who were also paramedics told us theyd take care of him. He did finish, though he projectile vomited halfway through before continuing. What ensued, was some of the drunkest mayhem in which the kid has ever partaken, complete with the general plethora of swears that accompanies any flanders drinking binge. When someone commented that flanders resembles jesus with his beard, he ripped his shirt off and started swinging it over his head screaming, "I'm Jesus F_cking Christ. Worship me." this proceeded for about five minutes before we could calm him down. Afterwards he proceeded to attempt to play flipcup. after spilling nearly a half dozen beers, hugging everyone in the room, screaming another handful of swears (He called one girl a string of swears a dozen words long that contained six f_cks), flanders finally passed out in a heap where he proceed to be drawn on. What a way for the kid to end his semester. But now that his work is diminished the next semester is even more entertaining.
stay tuned for Newmans Day
EFFFman

Updates from senior year

Well it's been a while since we've updated this but Flanders has cooled down a lttle bit. There arehowever a few highlights thus far.
At the begining of the year we had a BBQ at range pond. Flanders got pretty drunk from o whip and started laying for discs into the pond. At one point flanman emerged from the water with his arm covered in blood. He had sliced his Arm open on a rock. Pig newton one of the coordinators immediately found someone sober enough to bring him to the hospital. However before he could go Flanders said "wait I need my Medicine and did a fat knee chug of o whip so as to insure that he was sufficiently saucy when he got to the hospital.

New story from the flan man himself

I just spent nearly an hour chatting with the Flan Man. he relayed me this gem. Kind of scary, but hilarious. I just hope our man come's back alive from europe. because he almost didn't. Hear it is, in his own words:
so me and 3 people from the program took a weekend trip to Krakow Poland
we saw auchwitz yesterday, which was very interesting, toured the town, etc
there is a seriously rocking nightlife there too
i starts up at like 11:30 or midnight, goes till 6, 8 in the morning
yeah it was awesome
anyway, the hostel we were staying at employs this guy to take people out to bars at night
pretty fucking awesome job
he's british, cool guy
anyway, we pregamed with rum and apple juice, then went to a bar, i had some good drinks and stuff
then around 2:30 am or something
we went to another bar, just 4 of us (the guide, one of my friends from the program, and a spanish guy named javier). Anyway, we got some beers, chilled for a bit
i was drunk but not hammered
hard to believe i know
but anyway, the other 3 people I was with went up to the bar to get a drink while I guarded the table
so I'm sort of leaning back in my chair with my feet on two other chairs to reserve for my group
anyway, this huge (and I mean fucking humoungous) guy comes by
looks relatively scary
anyway, he grabs one of the chairs my foot was on like he was making to take it for his table or something
so I said "excuse me, sorry, my friends are sitting here"
apparently he didn't speak english, or else he was looking for a fight, but either way he just walks up to me and grabs me one handed by the neck
and starts to pull me up out of my chair
keep in mind my right leg is still on another chair beneath the table, so I cant stand up and it takes me a bit to get my leg free
I can barely breath, i manage to gasp ok, have the table
anyway, he just punches me in the ribs and drags my by the neck with his humongous massive hand to the door
the bar was on the third floor of the building
so he throws me out the door and down the first flight of stairs
the one friend of mine from budapest still at the bar dropped her phone in a toilet a couple days previously, so her phone was broke, and i didn't have the other guys numbers
So I thought this guy was just some huge drunk asshole. anyway, i decide that since i don't exactly know my way back, or speak a word of polish, that I'll try and go back into the bar and find my group and whatnot
anyway, as I'm going back inthe guy was there, guarding the door and he grabbed me again by the neck and turned me away, let me walk down the stairs this time
so I decide ok, fuck, this guys a bouncer and he was just looking for some poor guy like me to pick on
so I decided to leave
by now its 6:00 am
(At this point i interjected to suggest that flanders may have been to drunk to be there)
suns coming up, I didn't bring a coat because I didn't think we were going that far and I didn't want it to get all smokey
anywya, it wasn't that cold
no dude, I swear i was not that drunk
I remember this all perfectly
i wasn't totally sober but I was not passing out or causing problems or anything
i think he may have thought i was a homeless guy trying to sleep at a table in the bar, because i had finished my beer and didn't have it with me
but either way he's a total asshole, i still have a mark on my neck
(Here I pointed out that flanders does kind of look like a hobo)
fair point..
so then I'm lost in a city where i speak 0 of the language at 6 am with no coat
I tried to find the main square because my hostel was right by it
but i failed
ended up going to a street corner, using my calling card and calling my mom
it was only midnight in the us, so she helped me by google maps to get back to the hostel
all I had to go by was the hostel name and street corner and the city
talk about an awkward conversation with your mom... a bit drunk and lost in a city
apparently i had also forgotten to even tell her i was going to Krakow
so I got back at about 6:45 and went to bed.
the end

Hope you enjoyed it. hope he's ok. Hope yoyoyo posts more of these

Until next time,

EFFFFFFF

The First Real Night of Drinking

So the first weekend we were here obviously the crew wants to forget how much we suck at Hungarian and do a little drinking. We proceed to go to a bar called Szimpla where we chill and have a few drinks. A lot of funny stuff happens, and people openly wonder if Flanders has drank before and if he's always like this. Little do they know...

The highlight of the first bar is that Flanders puts down his glass squarely on top of somebody elses and it shatters everywhere. A chorus of "Flannnnn-derssss" comes. (I've told some people about the Flanders is drunk chant, but it's never really caught on, I'm just as sad as you are). We have quite a bit and then decide to go to the next bar/dance club.

Flanders enters, orders a drink and proceeds to walk downstairs to the dance floor. But as he goes down the glass slips out of his hand and shatters on the floor. Not to be deterred he just goes back upstairs and buys another one. That's two shattered glasses in one night (he'd break another one a few days later even). Much later Flanders is shaking his thang downstairs as we try to understand Hungarian dance customs (hint: they don't make sense). A burly guy walks up to him and says "Hey, these girls (points), they don't like you, you should leave." According to Flanders this is completely unprovoked (I don't know the truth). Flanders obviously gets pissed and gets some people to talk about starting a fight. Thankfully nothing goes down.

Now this is the first time we've tried to get home after the metros close, and I proceeded to get lost for two hours. Flanders also gets hellaciously lost. He jumps onto buses with no regard to where they are going. This is particularly funny because he jumps on like three buses and he lives in the easiest place in the city to get to. Literally like every bus goes near his house. Eventually he figures out where he is and then in typical drunk Flanders character proceeds to run the rest of the way home.

Next up: Flanders does the Superbowl.

God Damnit Flanders

I'm like three or four stories behind already. Little did I know what a job I was undertaking when I agreed to keep track of Flanders' drunk exploits abroad.

Updates to come.

Flanders secures sky high approval ratings from JB`s second floor

While this may not be a new story from Hungary, it`s an old gem that deserves to be told.
First semester sophomore year. Flanders is getting drunk as per usual in JB 101, home of Moose and Swiss Army Knife. Flanders, comfortable in his naturally drunken stupor, exhibits all of the signs that lead to the formation of an epic evening. (see previous entry for such signs). Flanders, never satisfied with his current level of partying, was looking to shake things up a bit. When he went out in the hall to pee (he peed in the bathroom, not in the hall, he wasn't that drunk), a jock, the local fauna of JB, ran through the hall screaming PARTY, 2nd floor WHOOOOOO. Flanders was very excited when he returned from the bathroom, and announced, "guys, guys there's a party on the second floor, let's bro." (when flan-man gets drunk, he likes to replace the O sound with the word bro.)
So we went to the second floor, to seek out the party. After wandering through the hall, we realized that this party was like most bro parties, not fun at all. Flanders, however, used his superior social judgment and decided to stay with the football bros while we returned downstairs to drink.
A half hour later, we saw Flanders emerge into 101, soaked in beer and reeking of alcohol. Apparently the jocks had poured beer all over him to show their approval of his dancing. Flanders had stumbled into the room full of drunk jocks and started dancing like a drunk whore. The jocks thought it was great, and when they found out his name, they started shouting FLANDERS, FLANDERS, FLANDERS. (Apparently they don't know the cheer.) The whole time Flan man was screaming, "guys, I hate jocks, like really, I really hate them. But you know whatever, I guess you guys are cool, we can be friends, we can be bros." They thought this was great, chanted more, and continued to pour beer on him. Needless, all involved had a good time, and though we were initially worried, we were thrilled to see that Flanders had had such a good time.
The next day in commons, lots of bros I had never seen before, bros who sat on the far side of the great salad bar divide, approached Flanders and told him how awesome he had been the night before, Flanders of course didn't remember anything or any of their names but was very pleased that he had made such a good impression.
FID