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.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
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
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
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