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

Flanders isn't drunk

Last Friday apparently was Newman Day which Flanders certainly knew. Unfortunately for you all I basically talked him out of it. He didn't want to do it alone (I guess that's a little more alcoholic then shotgunning alone, even for the Flan-man). I would (did) have considered it but
a) it was the third day of class I'd be drinking through
b)We had class the next day at 9
c) Flanders isn't even in the same class room as I so I wouldn't even witness the real drunkeness of it all
d)We had been here less than a week, I didn't really know how to get home late at night, let alone wasted late at night (I'd find that out later, if there's a YoYoYoisdrunk blog somewhere that Flanders is authoring it's quite a story)
e)A million other reasons.

So that was disappointing, but Flanders provided some entertainment anyway. We were getting lunch at a buffet style restaurant recommended to us. After awkwardly ordering food Flanders found what appeared to be the only beer at the place. Leave it to Flanders to drink at the buffet. He said it was to celebrate Newman Day or what not. Anyway, we're eating at a table and Flanders casually asks "What does alchoholius freeus mean in German?" (Obviously this is not correct, as that looks like latin, but it was that clear). Sure enough in about seven languages the beer was alchohol free. Flanders was pissed, asking what's the point, comparing it to decaf coffee and such. Flanders couldn't get drunk at class.

Later that night we had a local take us on a bar hop around town. Showed us a few cool local pubs. Flanders had a few beers but mostly remained well behaved as far as I can remember. After we decided to check out this baller castle in Buda. Flanders proceeded to explain to everyone how we'd visited a casino and how he'd won money on the tram over. Nobody was particularly interested in his story, and the tram was a lot for a tipsy Flanders to handle, more than once almost falling right into my lap. This was the groups first look at drunk Flanders, and I think they didn't know what to do.

On the walk home Flanders seemed to lose 15 years in age and wouldn't stop asking "Are we there yet?" over and over. I don't know what this was about. Didn't really follow the usual drunk characteristics. I can only hypothesize that the pace was less than his 8 minute mile marathon clip and he wanted to run somewhere. Anyway, the next day he claimed, that was such a long walk last night, we walked at least ten miles after Moskva Ter (Moscow Square you ignorant Americans). In reality it had been literally a short jaunt across the street.

It was a relatively quiet night, but I tried to document it well because it was the groups first experience with drunk Flanders. Saturday (story coming soon) would prove to be another experience for them and soon I will try to teach them the chant. Until next time, peace out from Maygarorszag.

Where the hell is Flanders?

Not as exciting at the title suggests, but this happened before we even arrived in Hungary.

Flanders and I realized a couple days before that we were taking the same connecting flight to Budapest from London Heathrow. This was most exciting to me because if I was lost in a foreign land at least I wasn't lost alone, but I digress. We made the plan to meet up in the airport by the gate of our connecting flight. Seems reasonable enough. So I arrive at Heathrow without trouble and as I'm going through security I see Flanders in the distance. I didn't really want to make a commotion trying to flag him down, so I watched the direction that he went and carried on my way. Hell yeah, this was going to be easy.

I get through security and wander the way he seemed to have gone. He's nowhere to be found, but that's not that ridiculous. This is Terminal 5, but it's freaking enormous. I'm told this is the new terminal, but still, Heathrow is obviously a big airport from what I've seen. So I go check to see where the gate is. Whoops, they don't tell you what gate it is until an hour before...and I have like a five hour layover. So I wander some more, yo-yo in the most prominent area (an activity I felt might draw enough attention while wasting time), surf the internet, watch some Mad Men, wander some more, and yo-yo some more. About 3 and a half hours later I turn around and two rows of chairs back is Flanders, sitting towards me oblivious.

I yell at him. "What the hell man, I've been yo-yoing here for like twenty minutes?" Suffice to say he didn't see me. I ask him what he's been up to. He says he's had 2 or 3 pints in the bar while he waited. Not only that but British Airways gives free drinks (!!) so he's had a beer and wine on the plane (as well as coffee, water and apple juice...apparently he peed three times). At this point it's not fair to call him drunk, but he must have been buzzed.

To make matters more interesting we arrived around 8:00 GMT, which is 3:00 EST. So he was drinking most of these beers around 5 in the morning EST.

Updates Coming

As many of you know, it's been my job to keep tabs of Flanders as he travels to the land of the Magyars. He's sitting across from me though, and updates will have to come later.

There are a few good tales to come. Stay tuned.

Bedtime Stories Wanted

Dearest informant,

We need updates, please.

Tent Croo '09

A Drunk Flanders Story: the best christmas gift you can get

This old classic is one of my favorites.
As Flanders' roommate, I've often witnessed more than my share of drunk Flanders shenanigans, many of which occur after Flanders has called it a night. This one happened after the infamous day of 21-21-21 during short term. That's right, 21 games of 21 cup in 21 hours. We started this venture at around two in the afternoon. By about 6 I had played twelve games of 21 and all of us were ready for a great drunk commons (a common occurrence during short term). Though that meal is hazy at best, I'm pretty confident I should maybe be a little embarrassed about the general sloppiness of it. After dinner I played two more games, painted the Chasement bathroom wall with chunder (i'd been recovering from a nasty illness) and was in bed by 9:30.

But this story's about Flanders. I was sound asleep in my bed when all of a sudden I was awoken by a crash and a thud followed by a string of drunk expletives. I sat straight up in bed and saw my roommate, the Flan-man, butt naked and holding up my dresser that was threatening to crush him. Most of the contents of my dresser were strewn all about the floor and the crashing noise I had heard was my printer, that had been on top of the dresser, had tumbled off, smashed Flanders in the head, and then hit the floor. Flanders seemed to be struggling as hard as he could to tip the dresser back upright while being to drunk to understand what was happening. It was like he had woken up in an awful nightmare where his head hurt for no reason and he was naked, confused, and had something heavy crushing him.

By now I'd been asleep for more than five hours and was sober enough to understand the gravity of the situation. I hopped out of bed, told Flanders to go get some clothes on, took the phone out from under the dresser that was preventing it from being tipped back up, and solved the problem.

The next morning Flanders barely remembered what had happened, merely stating that he had gone to bed and woken up with a headache, holding up my dresser. The more likely explanation is that he was sleepwalking (a common occurrence during short term), tripped, and grabbed my dresser to hold him up. But as with most Drunk Flanders stories nobody can know for sure what may have happened.
If you give Flanders beer he'll give you memories and entertainment. The gift that keeps on giving. I hope Flanders is drunk somewhere and that the people he's with are laughing.
Merry Christmas

Welcome to the Jungle, We've got Fun and Games

For Short Term '08, Flanders enrolled in Math Camp, which may, in fact, have interfered with more prime opportunities to see Flanders drunk.  The benefit of his five-day-a-week-super-serious-let-me-tell-you-gnome-riddles-class, however, was that when the weekend arrived, Flanders was ready to go.  Having missed the entire week of shenanigans, Flanders often felt he needed to make up for a week's worth of alcohol in a single night.  And make up for it he did.  On this particular night, Flanders was in a zone.  As usual, we started the night at Webb basement, with a grill session in the back alley and then moving to the basement to begin the nightly rotation through games of 21.  If Flanders has never told you himself, he is really good at 21.  He can count out the right number of cups to make a triangle faster than any man alive.  And never second guess him, because he is a math major for a reason (likewise, if Flanders is mad at you, never try to trick the other team in to thinking they have the right number of cups for a rack, because no matter how many eyes he has open, Flanders can spot that kind of poor math from across the room and will stop it before you even know what happened).

We decided later that night it was time to move on to the Village to visit the kind people there.  Flanders decided this was an excellent idea and took off running.  A couple of us chased him down to make sure he didn't disappear and eventually found him on the quad yelling for us to catch up.  We had not lost him after all.  We convinced him it was too warm out to run and he agreed, also admitting that he may have been running in varying diagonals.  And that's when it happened.  The hair came a tumblin' down and all hell broke loose.  "What is your favorite guitar solo song?!" he asked.  What other answer could I give than the infamous Welcome to the Jungle?  And there it began.  Right next to the side door entrance to Hedge walking towards the Village.  Flanders began air-guitaring and wailing away at the entire intro to Welcome to the Jungle while his head-banging waved his hair in unnatural ways.  By the time we reached Bardwell, Flanders reached the middle solo of the song, and in all of his excitement, literally flipped backwards on to his back in the soft mud of the field.  I watched in awe for a second to make sure he didn't hurt himself, but was amazed when that guitar solo did not miss a single beat.  Flanders was not going to let a little slip in the mud ruin a great guitar solo.  So there he laid, on his back in the mud, air-guitaring and wailing away with his very best vocal impression, while his hair flopped back and forth and his legs kicked in joy.  Never have I seen a man so entrenched in his air-guitar solo as was a drunk Flanders on Bardwell Field.

Flanders Gets Some - Friday December 5th

We've got a lot of stories to catch up with here at flanders is drunk but for those of you who weren't there I'll catch you up with what went down this very weekend.

You may or may not know that flanders, along with most of the authors here, is a member of the ultimate team at our esteemed small liberal arts institution. The frisbee team was having an end of the season bash in good ol' flanders basement and things were going smoothly. We invented a game a musical chairs-flip cup mashup that we cleverly dubbed "musical cups" and everybody was doing a fair bit of drinking. Flanders notably lost a full cup flip-off, but proceeded to keep himself under control and we probably only chanted 'Flanders is drunk' once or twice (a remarkably low number for a frisbee party).

Sadly the party would end when security busted us and we moved en masse to a different house hosting a dance party. Yours truly was having a good time doing my thing (trying hopelessly to get rid of an epic case of the hiccoughs, but I'll spare you that story). I noticed Flanders towards the back in the general vicinity of a girl, but didn't think much of it. Minutes later the effffffff-meister himself ran up to me - "Dude, through that door Flander is hooking up with a chick and if you come over here you can see it!"

You didn't have to ask me twice, I hopped out of the room and sure enough, flanders had picked the room with glass doors - allowing anybody in the hallway to witness Flanders rolling around in bed with a girl whos identity still remains unclear. The crowd grew and so did the groping. Nobody seemed to know what to do. After a couple minutes the owner of the room happened by and the effffffff-man told him that "some random kid is hooking up in your bed."

Obviously and fortunately the public display of affection was broken up and Flanders and his lady friend had to walk by us, still holding hands, and sheepishly leave the party. Effffff left with the parting words "please don't sexile me tonight, I have to get up early tomorrow!" to which Flanders replied "don't worry I won't".

Flanders of course was lying.

Characteristics of a drunk Flanders: closing his eye, letting his hair down, shotgunning by himself!

The regular progression that most people assume upon imbibing large amounts of alcohol doesn't accurately describe the progression that Flanders experiences upon commencing to drink. True to his nature as an extremophile, when flanders drinks, it's bound to become way crazier and way more hilarious.
The first thing that must be known about Flanders is that he has extremely low tolerance. Though it has progressed from the when he first started drinking and would get hammered from just a couple of beers, it still takes very little to push him over the edge. As a result, once he starts drinking he generally is quickly the drunkest person in the room. The other thing that must be known about Flanders is that when it comes to drinking, there are very few things that Flanders won't try. I can't list the number of times I've told Flanders to shotgun or chug and he'll do it, often much to the amusement of the rest of us. Furthermore, if you offer him a free beer in exchange, he'll do almost anything.
Every night we're thinking about drinking, at dinner Flanders will announce to us, "Guy's I'm gonna get SOOO hammered tonight!" Upon our response that maybe we're not interested in getting that drunk he'll often say something like, "that's fine but I'm getting wasted." One of his favorite get drunk quick strategies is the solo shotgun. Flanders gets out a beer and announces that he intends to shotgun it, and would any of us like to join him. When we tell him that no we'd rather just sip peacefully and enjoy each others company Flanders announces that he'll just have to do it by himself then. The problem is Flanders is awful at shotgunning, whenever he doesn't do it b himself he always comes in last. So when he does it by himself, he'll generally disappear to the bathroom for a while. I guess it just shows how independent Flanders is that he doesn't need other people to drink with him.
Finally as the night progresses, Flanders can often provide clues to how drunk he is. He'll start by letting his hair down, and leaning up against a wall and smiling contentedly, if not a little sketchily. After a little more drinking he'll close one of his eyes to stop his vision from being blurry and convince himself that he's not as drunk as he really is. When you ask Flanders "Why is your eye close, is it because you're too hammered to see?" He'll most likely rather forcefully reply with one eye still closed, "I don't know what you're talking about you asshole. Both my eyes are open. Your the one who's a drunk bitch." One of the defining factors of Flanders anytime, but especially when he's drunk is that he'll never admit that he's wrong or at fault.
At the end of almost every night, Flanders has the munchies and ends up running (not walking) to Milt's. "I run so that I can stay in shape and sweat some of the alcohol out." And run he does. Because he has yet to ever get a hangover, he can get black out drunk the night before, then wake up at seven and go for a twelve mile run. What an animal.
Finally when flanders passes out he passes out hard. We once drew on him and blogged on his computer while he was passed out in the adjacent bed. One of the drawings he never found. We had written it on the back of his leg just below his knee where he couldn't see it. it said, FLANDERS IS DRUNK!

Finals Week!

It's finals week and we are all immersed in our books and papers, except Flanders. Finals week for Flanders is not nearly as stressful as the rest of us and hopefully he will have some time to party. Keep an eye out for some classic Flanders stories as the week progresses. These will be the last stories from Bates before he heads of to Europe and the new city slogan of Budapest becomes "Flanders van részeg"

My first encounter with Flanders

The first time I met Flanders he was drunk. I believe it was during a mid-week Halloween festivity sophomore year, and I was walking with a friend back to campus. At this point Flanders comes up to us and introduces himself, then proceeds to explain how he will friend both of us on Facebook immediately. He wanders off, but then we find him again ten minutes later, where he reintroduces himself. The funny thing is, he did remember to friend us on Facebook that night. Now this is a man who doesn't let alcohol get in the way of his promises.

Flanders loses his drinking virginity

So... its 2:00 and Flanders is passed out on his bed in his rubix cube clothing (dress) (I'm not suprised). This brings back memories of the first night "Flanders was drunk." It happened also to be a rubix cube party, the second weekend of his sophomore year and we were playing flip cup. Finally, Flanders decided to join in on the action. After a short few rounds of flip cup, Flanders was HAMMERED! But he continued to insist that he was not drunk because... "I don't drink, how could I be drunk?" Anyways, the evening progressed and the team decided to head over to our home turf, Bardwell, and play some drunken night Ultimate. Flanders exclaimed, "Hey guys let's go streaking." It is at this moment that I pull into the Bardwell parking lot from a night out on the town. I walk through the infamous pines and end up on Bardwell with the entire team playing a fucked up game of Ultimate. Except something wasn't right. Flanders is completely naked, and definitely the only person that has removed any article of clothing. At the time, I was a little confused because I was still under the impression that of course Flanders didn't drink. But it soon became clear to me, Flanders had lost his drinking virginity!!!!

Creation!

the monster is born!