Monday, March 29, 2010

Chafe - Someone Asking You To Call Their Lost Phone

This is obviously a minor chafe, but sometimes the smallest chafes can annoy you the most. If you have friends like I do then you’re getting asked this question a lot more than you would like. First you have to take your phone out, find the person in your phonebook, and then call them (you even have to tell them when it’s ringing (apparently this is the common courtesy)). Half the time the phone ends up being in their pocket or in their tuxedo jacket, which ends up chafing you even more. And for some reason, when I’m in a big group of people, all with cell phones, I feel like it’s always me that ends up having to make the call (probably because it’s an iPhone and with great power comes great responsibility). If Chance and Sassy can find their way home, you can find your phone without making me call it.

How I Got Jobbed – Jury Duty – Lieutenant Jenkems

Now, Broston College has always preached the love of grind, but there comes a certain point when a grind is no longer loveable (i.e. missing two consecuative Thursday nights for midterms). What took place on Monday is something that I promised myself I would never speak of again, not even if it meant dome from Erin Andrews. Getting picked for jury duty was something that I thought only happened to Mudbloods. Oh how wrong I was. I’m fairly sure there is a committee, probably consisting of the feds, Zeus, and Oprah Winfrey, who meet once a week and decide how they can job Lieutenant Jenkems. This week the consensus was jury duty and I ended up on my knees begging for forgiveness. Just because I maybe in the midst of my running riot, but doesn’t mean you can try and sabotage me with jury duty, in hopes of throwing me off. Sitting in that small room for 8 hours with no form of entertainment, surrounded by fat black women and men with receding hairlines, was the ultimate grind. It literally had me begging for mercy. As if the 7 O’clock wake up wasn’t bad enough, it was complemented with an excursion to Dorchester where everyone was up to hoodrat things. I had to morph into a contortionist to try and nap in a chair and share a bathroom with 42 other people (yes, I shared a bathroom with everyone BEFORE and AFTER they had KFC for lunch). The rainy day didn’t help nor did the dying battery power of my cellphone, which forced me to turn it on and off to conserve juice. When I finally made it into the courtroom, I honestly thought they’d at least give me a case involving a murder or a huge drug bust. Did I ever have a chance? Instead I got a measly DUI case where it was a ‘he said’ ‘she said’ against a cop. I was originally one of the 7 picked for the jury panel but once the prosecutor made eye contact with me, he realized that not only would I do anything to screw the feds but that there was also a 99% chance I had probably drunk driven myself. He used a preemptory challenge to take me off the jury panel and I that's when I thought my grind was over. Wrong. My battery died on the ride home (probably texting too many chicks) and I got lost trying to navigate the land (could have used Mel Sniper Jr. and his sixth sense). When I finally made it back to Mecca, I sacrificed a goat, and then went around Walsh trying to find any form of alcohol. I ended up having to outsource to Applebee’s and tried to drink myself into oblivion, in hopes that the booze would wake up from the nightmare that is Jury Duty.

Spitter of the Week - Degree Deodorant Stick

Friday, March 26, 2010

Happy Flannel Friday!

A Bro You Should Know - Jason Alexander


Jason Alexander is a man of opportunity. He got Britney Spears blackout and quickly married her in 2004 in Vegas, where else. Although their marriage only lasted 55 hours, this is a fucking feat. For a brief moment lets forget about Britney’s current public image (a wild whore with tons of screws loose in her head.) Now let’s think back to 1998-2005. Britney was the shit. She was the standard for hot, she caused infants to have wet dreams, she was all that every girl wanted to be, and everything that every guy wanted to be with. Confession: I went to a Britney concert at Jones Beach when I was 12. She is the undisputed hottest chick of our childhood. Then enters Jason Alexander. They meet up in Vegas one night, have a couple cocktails and they tie the knot. Don’t get me wrong; marriage goes against everything that is bro. Everyone knows you’re just supposed to fuck and chuck in Vegas/anywhere, but like all rules, there are exceptions, and this is one. When you have the opportunity to wife up the hottest superstar of our generation, and enter into world of the rich and famous, just because you got a good line of shit at a bar one night, by all means, say “I do”. Normally anyone that marries a hot chick in Vegas can expect a life of misery, regret, and long nights of solo-drinking listening to Phil Collins. Putting a ring on Britney Spears earns you an auto-ticket to bro immortality. Shaun White will meet you at the pearly gates one day sir, we salute you. Your browser may not support display of this image.

Top 500 Feelings - #491 The Perfect High Five


Class just ended. It's time to clear the building and you couldn’t possibly be more ready. You’ve been drawing stussys and wu-tang W’s in the corner of your notebook since 11:05. Your backpack has been packed for the last 15 minutes. Finally, at long last, your time has come. All that stands between you and the fat boston beef waiting for you at chillside is the walk from middle campus to lower. It’s a mild chafe, but your mind is elsewhere. You file along, dishing out bored head nods and an occasional uninspired, “hey whatup” to passing friends. All of the sudden, your fellow bro appears, seemingly out of thin air. You spot each other from a mile away; the slap 5 is already a foregone conclusion. You have all day to line this one up. You feel like a wide open Detlef Schrempf in the corner. The moment presents itself. You lead with your outside foot to open up some space, cock that shit way back in the air, hold it ever so slightly, and in one fluid motion swing it back down until you hear that WHHHAP. Perfect. All that’s left is a saucy follow through with an optional pound at the end, depending on your mood. You know instantly that you have achieved greatness, the perfect high 5. You are Jordan slashing in the paint at Chicago Stadium, Tiger on the back nine at Augusta, Peyton behind center in Indy. Now hold your head high and go eat your boston beef like the champion you are.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Top 500 Feelings - #24 Owning an Invsibility Cloak

Plowing its way up our chart of the best 500 feelings anyone can possibly have is owning an invisibility cloak. I firmly believe that if I popped an adderall right now I could write a 15 page (excluding title page and bibliography) paper on this. First and foremost, you could sacktap your friends at any time with no regard for human life. You could sacktap strangers at any time with no regard for human life. Next, you could steal anything you wanted (tins, flatties, the Mona Lisa, etc.). You would never get caught by RA's. Yes they would see you, but as soon as you put that cloak on you're golden. Imagine them explaining to ResLife how they were about to document a kid for shotgunning but then he threw on an invisibility cloak and was nowhere to be found. You could let loose a verbal assault on your teacher in a lecture and they'd have no idea who said it. You could run onto the lax field in the middle of a game and redefine the term "blindside crosscheck". You could dominate any game of Capture the Flag, or Hide and Go Seek for that matter (as long as you're hiding and not seeking). You could sneak into and sit courtside (or on the court) at any game you wanted. You could convince anyone that their dorm was haunted by repeatedly whispering their name late at night and constantly moving their furniture. You could be naked whenever. You could literally be the deciding factor in a war, just by sneaking past enemy lines and knifing everybody from behind (R3 on your joysticks in COD). You could piss in public anywhere, and when I say "in public" I mean standing on top of one of those benches in the quad during a busy passing period and letting it flow on unsuspecting passerbys. I'm having a tough time putting this feeling as low as 24, but there you have it.
Here's Rex Ryan wearing an invisibility cloak:



Anti Bro of the Week- Jim Rome


I think it's fairly safe to say that no one gives a rat's ass what you're burning on Jim. The fact that I can count on my hands the amount of times I've watched your show and still absolutely despised you says a lot about you and your show. The sheer amount of minutes of my life you have stolen is downright disgusting. I would really like to know how to get those back, but knowing how much you chafe me means I'd probably have to go through some mail-in rebate, which is a chafe itself, but we will discuss that another time. I would rather watch C-SPAN or Face and Face Jr. for the thirty minutes in between NFL Live and Around the Horn than see your sorry ass awkwardly turn to cameras while throwing out some bullshit that I'd much rather hear Michael Wilbon talk about. The only time I ever come remotely close to switching to ESPN during your time slot is to see if your show is over yet so I can finally get a chance to read what's on Woody Paige's chalkboard. ESPN rarely makes a mistake, but for the good of mankind please get rid of Jim Rome. If it were up to me, I'd replace it with a new series of Stump the Schwab. If you don't want to go through the trouble of filming a new series, just throw on some And1 Mixtape Tour shit so I can see Hot Sauce dangle some nobodies on the street circuit. Fuck you Jim Rome.

Fireside Chats - The Awkward Silence of Discussion


No one reads books for class. I mean no one. Are teachers aware of this fact? Who knows, but part of me has a feeling they're just as oblivious as a first week Freshman thinking McElroy is tasty. For some ungodly reason, teachers continue to try and have students lead discussion. It's the equivalent of putting Tim Donaghy in charge of the NBA's money, just plain dumb. None of us read the book, half of us read sparknotes, half of the half that read sparknotes decide to go to class on the day of discussion and half of the half of the half (damn you Finite Math) that read sparknotes and go to class actually elect to speak. Suddenly, the discussion section of 32 people has shrunk to what feels like 4. Now these four students usually put there rest of us on their back like Lebron does with the Cavaliers. Not even Lebron can win every game, just like these all stars can't win every discussion. The days when these four are speechless, we're completely sunk. This usually leads to one of two scenarios: The teacher may rip us a new asshole, telling us that we have to read if we want to pass the class (erroneous on all counts), or, some teachers elect to fight fire with fire and play the awkward silence waiting game. They'll stand in front, surveying the room with a serious face that shouts, "I'll be here all day" (sometimes they actually say it). Teachers are bafoons. They don't realize that this is basically a mini vacation for us. Now we can just sit back, pretend to scan the book, and make sure to avoid eye contact while we think about the Thursday night game plan and draw all 32 NHL logos. This silence is easier to conquer during a fifty-minute class, but true champions hold out for an hour and fifteen like Terrel Owens holds out for a new contract. The biggest mystery to me is what goes through the student's head that breaks the silence. Half the time I think they're hustling us just to make themselves look better for what they believe to be the ever so important 10% participation grade (most worthless 10% in college). The other half are probably just too weak to deal with the silence. I'm told silence is a virtue. Plead the 5th and keep your mouth shut while you watch your teacher panic with the awkward silence of discussion.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Broston Celly Off


The first highlight is of Jimmy "He Slays" Hayes with a one knee-to ice swipe-to glass jump in what I like to call his "Seriously just shut the fuck up I'm Jimmy Fucking Hayes" celly, and the second is of Almeida with his classic (yet cocky) arms to the sky on one skate, in what I've affectionately dubbed the "If one of you girls plays your cards right I'll do this exact same celebration after I bang you" celly.

There's a poll on the left where you can vote on who you thought had the better celebration (please take in to account cockiness, level of difficulty, creativity, and pornographic appeal). As a reminder nobody gives a fuck about either goal. This is nothing more than an old fashioned celly competition (dick swinging competition) so please vote accordingly.


Chafe – Girls Asking You If You Remember Their Names

I know what you’re thinking: There’s a reason they call him Uncle Chafe. This may just be the granddaddy of them all, the 8th wonder of the chafing world. “What’s my name?” “Do you remember my name?” “You don’t even know my name, do you?” No, we absolutely do not. We never learned it, we don’t know it, and we’re never going to know it. Ladies, when have you ever asked a guy one of these questions and actually received the answer you were looking for? I’ll tell you when: Never. Honestly, what good can come of you waking up next to a guy (who’s hopefully wearing a tuxedo), and inquiring as to whether or not he remembers your name? If he knows it, you’ve just found out he doesn’t party nearly hard enough, and if he misses it, you have to slap someone in the face before the clock strikes 9 a.m. When you look up “lose-lose” in your Webster’s-Chafe Dictionary, this is undoubtedly the scenario that you’ll find. For the sake of procreation, please stop asking us.

BroTube


Yeah. You're a Boss.

Ideal 8 Man - Lieutenant Jenkems

1. Lieutenant Jenkems
2. Peyton Manning (direct roommate)
3. R.L. Stine
4. Marv Albert
5. Shia Lebouf
6. Hercules
7. Andy Samberg
8. Drake

Quick Clarification


Just so all of our readers are aware, the term "cuello" is just that, a term. If you check out the dictionary you'll see that "cuello" is defined as "
Cool, fresh, awesome, spectacular." It is not a name, and when we use the word we are not referring to a person. It is simply a word the Bros use as a replacement for those in the definition. Sorry for the mixup.


Top 5 Signs/Objects To Steal (The Great Fratsby)


1. The fake ship that shoots out fireworks everytime the Buccaneers score

2. Any or all of the letters from the Hollywood sign

3. Obama's Dog

4. The actual South Pole

5. The Olympic Torch

Nut Tap Possession Arrow

Watch your back Uncle Chafey

Sleazy Weekend Updates!

Chay was at an all time high this weekend after several hall of fame performances on St. Paddy’s Day. Trouble found an innocent bra Thursday night at J-Tree in the form of a huge dyke. This poor feline only wanted to dance with her two friends when she was grabbed by the hair and thrown down onto one of the dirtiest floors this side of the Mississippi. Bouncers swarmed the scene and politely told the scissor queen to leave. A couple of hours later the bra walked out of the bar with a few new bruises. Since when was drinking not a contact sport?

Thebronious still had a little luck left over from Wednesday when he walked into Roggies and was able to drink with the help of Utah’s shitty I.D. and 4 other forms of back up. The bouncer had to ask why some of the I.D. cards said John and not Johnny, but Thebronious took off his flattie, flashed that golden hair, and all questions were answered.

Now usually when you come back to Walsh and have to puke at 4 a.m. it’s not an issue, in fact it's usually the mark of an unreal night. This, however, is not the case when you’re banging a chick and puke all over her (is there even a name for this?). Yes, this happened, and I would do unforgivable shit for an audio recording of the events that followed this tasteless yet heroic act.

The men's rugby team (aka warriors), had a game in Canton Mass., giving us a fresh reason to drink and go on a road trip. After rolling onto the field with three 30’s we were promptly asked to leave the premises but found refuge in the parking lot (the obvious choice for a boozing location) where we dusted off the tailgating gear and raged Chay Field Style. No prisoners were taken and lobsters were on the verge of extinction.

The addition of visiting Colgate, Hamilton, Dartmouth, and Providence Bros led to an order of Martial Law from Newton Police, who instructed women and children within a 15 miles radius of Walsh to stay inside and lock their doors. After watching BC Hockey pull off a sweet victory we all knew it was going to be a good night. Copperfield's looked like the combination of an Asher Roth music video and downtown Baghdad. Adderall was being blown off the pinball machine, pitchers were being dumped on innocent victims, and buddy sips were more popular than beanie babies in ‘97. After verbally requesting a shower, one lucky Hamilton Bro received a three-pitcher, Niagara Falls style beer hurricane.

With the return to campus came the emergence of the volcano and assorted activities. Jenkems and Utah partnered up with girls they found peddling themselves for money outside 66 (who lives in 66 that isn’t a refugee?). Soon enough they found themselves in a full on spoon-off, which ended in a tie. Jenkem's girl kept passing out so her scores can’t be counted.

As the night came to a close, Jenkems was running on empty. The two minute walk and elevator ride (350 feet per second) were simply too much for him and he decided to crash on the floor of Señor Flow and Mel Sniper Jr. 's room. On Sunday morning he took the Stride of Pride back to Broston Headquarters with chay in the rearview and grind on his mind.

P.S. A record amount of bed wetting was recorded this weekend. Well done boys and girls. You obviously had a better night than all of us who were coherent enough to leak before getting into bed (hopefully in a tuxedo).


Coaster of the Week



The Complete 1st Season of SpongeBob SquarePants.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

"Are You In This Class?"


Long story short, Lieutenant Jenkems went to a class that he is not enrolled in. He proceeded to ask a question, take a quiz (signed it Daffy Duck), and storm out of the class screaming. Here is a transcript of what was said.

Jenkems: "You know what, I can't do it dude, I could have gone to North Dakota State on a full ride. I can't do this, I'm sorry you guys, I'm sorry for everyone. I CAN'T DO THIS RIGHT NOW! I'M SORRY I CAN'T!"

Professor: "Did I do something wrong?"



Speechless...

Nut Tap Possesion Arrow


Looks like it's going to be a long weekend.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Where Are They Now? - Keith Van Horn



Ahh, Keith. Where do I start? Athletically, he was the definition of decent. I never really know what to make of Utes like him - Alex Smith, Andrew Bogut, Holly Rowe. ESPN went as far as naming Horny as their Men's College Player of the Year in 1997. In case you were wondering, he was named to Utah's "All-Century Team," which is slightly harder to make than your high school's varsity basketball team. Despite never winning an NBA championship, Van Horn instead gained a more personal, meaningful victory. That's right, he was on the cover of NBA Jam 99. The lengths I would go to in order to get a blown up poster of that cover are damn near unspeakable. Imagine waking up to Horny dribbling/carrying a fireball in your face every morning! You would literally never have a bad day. "Oh, I got an F on this test? Oh well, I'm gonna go home and stare at Keith for an hour and get over it." Please. I know this had nothing to do with where he is now, but he retired last year and let's be honest, he's probably not curing cancer in his free time.


Would You Rather… Be on offense with 10 seconds left down 1 or be on defense with 10 seconds left up 1?

This "Would You Rather" was inspired by what some are calling the best first day in the history of March Madness (so many onions). I think putting yourself in the shoes of the players helps solve this question. Hitting a buzzer beater is definitely a top 500 feeling, one that will undoubtedly resurface someday. On the other end, having a game winner hit against you is a nuclear chafe. Everybody wants to be the hero, and other than drinking 64 Miller Lites in a cross-country road trip, this is the quickest way to achieve that sort of status. Imagine what a cherry on top it is when you see the red lights on the backboard go off while the ball is airborne. You’re due for a severely more hysterical celebration. Having your heart broken and shedding tears gets you nothing, other than the possibility of a quick image on “One Shining Moment.” At the end of the day, I want the ball in my hands when the game is on the line. I want the last shot. I want the glory.


Happy Flannel Friday!

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Sleazy Paddy's Updates!

With an onslaught of warm weather came an onslaught of green, merry moods, and fierce, fierce chay. Uncle and Lieutenant were keeping us all posted on their movements at Roggie's via picture messages involving green beer and thumbs-ups. Utah couldn't focus in class thinking about the day to come, sipping a hideaway Deverage. Lieutenant and Señor Flów went to their class after Roggies. I should probably rephrase that. Lieutenant is not in the class but tagged along with the others, sat through the whole class pretending to take a quiz. With 5 minutes he left stormed out, barking furiously at himself, mentioning something about a scholarship to North Dakota State that no one really understood. A baffled teacher asked students what she had done wrong. (video to come)

A team assembled in the mods by the tennis courts, a strategic position. Within minutes, there were beer cans flying onto the court (during a varsity match). Notorious tried to dropkick a lid of a metal trash can over the fence, but swung and missed, sending one of his Charles Barkley signatures over the fence. The tennis coach ran on the court, threw it back over, and yelled something along the lines of, "Damn you kids get off my lawn!"

For no reason at all, Thebronious and Utah went to another mod to get beers but came back instead with two eggs. No one (including Utah) knows where his egg went. Thebronious had his egg in the same pocket as his phone and I think we all know where this is going. It exploded-yolk all over his phone, jeans, and hands. Taking that egg was the epitome of "High Risk, Low Reward."

Skip ahead to the night, Tittyside was packed and bouncers were chafing. Mary Ann's had a line reminiscent of food rationing stations in the Great Depression. Notorious was spotted by Thebronious in an apartment off campus hoarding snacks like he was about to stock a bomb shelter: 2 cans of Chef Boyardee, 5 bags of Cheez-Its, a box of Froot Loops and a flight school sesh later, Notorious was ready to roll. On the walk home he asked girls who let them off their leash/out of their cage/out of the kitchen. Utah again spent the night at CoRo making others wonder what exactly is in the water up there, besides salmonella.

The Best Fucking Weather In Boston


Any BroCo-educated individual knows that the two worst days of the year are the ones following St. Paddy’s and Marathon Monday. But, as the apocalypse approaches, we have been granted a sign of hope. As I lay in bed this morning, completely disheveled and unprepared for my grind through Thursday classes, my roommate mentioned today's 70 degree weather. I immediately shot up to throw on shorts, a t-shirt, and flip flops to start my day. Plus, this isn't just some random, nothing, nice day for the bros. It is much much more than that. We just escaped 100 hours worth of rain, it's Thursday, the middle of March, and outdoor lax/rugby games are soon approaching. If those things don’t inspire you to enjoy the outdoors, you're one sick son of a bitch. If any of you recall, the last men’s lacrosse game was played in the worst fucking weather in Boston: 35 degrees, windy, with cold rain. But as the weekend approaches, we can all forget about our St. Paddy’s hangover, pick up our lax spoons, throw on a sweet pair of shades (with croakies), and go throw that rubber ball around while we talk chicks and the upcoming weekend. The Dogfather is in such a good mood right now he doesn't even care if you disagree, but watch out for him on a rainy Sunday morning.

A Few Thoughts On St. Paddy's Day To Wrap Up


- Drinking a Roggie's Budzilla filled with green beer at 11:30 a.m. is something everyone must try once.

- Getting birthday shots on your fake I.D. birthday is unreal, especially when it's Bailey's, on St. Paddy's day, in the afternoon.

- Pissing off of the 7th story of the parking garage is a really fun activity.

- Going to class buzzed: Awesome. Going to class shitfaced/spinning: Not as fun as it sounds.

- On that note, who can actually say they've been to a Spanish class they have no recollection of? That's some shit I'll tell to my grandkids someday.

- There is nothing more rewarding than acing a quiz hammied. Nothing.

- I shit green this morning. Is that weird?

Happy Thursday!

"Aye, fight and you may die. Run, and you'll live... at least a while. And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willin' to trade ALL the days, from this day to that, for one Thursday, just one Thursday, when we'll come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take... OUR THURSDAYS!

Braston College


Because a lot of girls have been reading the site, and because some of them are probably getting fed up with the testosterone-ridden, misogynistic views offered in every post, we decided to let some of our very own bitches write a “Braston College” article once in a while, in which they will critique and analyze some of what’s already been posted by the Bros. Enjoy.

Three major perspectives for the week:

First off, did anyone notice the sleazy weekend update? All of the cool and most brotastic things were done by fellow females. Oh cool, you walked from Upper - stride of pride my ass - all that means is that you couldn’t convince the little bitch to suck your dick in the comfort of your own home.

Secondly, “spring training?” Funny for guys, but I personally had to get a translation. Come on, do you boys fail to see what’s going on here? Those smart felines are drinking your beers, dirtying your common rooms, and then leaving to go chase some jerseys. Call it whatever you want, because it’s working out great for us.

Lastly, Braston proposes a “BC Bra of the Week.” Our first suggestion would be that heroine that knocked all of her teeth out. You go girl! Not only did this lucky bitch have a beer on St. Patty’s Day, but also used it to chase her perks with.


Top 500 Feelings - #333 Finding A Pot Of Gold


Let’s be realistic, leprechauns exist, and if you don’t believe me ask the entire population of Mobile, Alabama. Leprechauns get the freshest deals too. They get their own cereal boxes, they have no drinking age, they’re the only ones who can find four leaf clovers, and they even get a pot of gold. But, as if God farted/crop dusted the trail of a leprechaun’s gold, a rainbow was born. Everyone knows the pot of gold lies at the end of the rainbow; we’re all just too lazy to actually go there (you’re probably busy with real school (or flight school) or maybe Forrest Gump just started on TBS and you didn’t want to leave). If you ever do venture to the end and cross the finish line, you will not be disappointed. Now you’ll have enough money to pay your $200 fine for housing probation. What better way to stick it to your RD than to pay with gold coins?

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Chafe - Cheese Steak Line

We’ve been in this line, we know this line, we walk this line (ala Joaquin Phoenix). Perhaps the most vicious chafe in all of Lower Dining Hall is the cheese steak line. It’s the most delicious option in the joint, so do you really think they’re going to make it easy for you to acquire one? No fucking way. They’re going to throw everything short of Mordor in your path. I’ve seen anywhere between 6 and 12 separate sandwiches worth of steak/chicken thrown on this grill, and I don’t need to tell you what it feels like to be in the last 4 out (hey Joe Lunardi). I’ve done the math and concluded that the amount of cheese steaks that can be cooked on this grill is approximately the same as the amount of bros you can fit in to a Jeep Grand Cherokee. 10 is a good squeeze, 11 and things are getting personal, 12 is just downright dangerous. But my God do you want to make that cut. When you get struck by the Zeus-thunderbolt-like chafe of getting shutout of a round of cheese steaks you’re most likely going to end up with celery and carrots, some hummus, and a premade turkey and swiss. If I’m not mistaken that was the menu in Shawshank Prison. Give me my double steak or give me death.

"Going Left"

There’s not much the Good Book can’t do now-a-days. It can help you hunt down an unknown dance floor hookup from Thursday night to see if they lied about being a Junior. It can show you if the Freshman chick in your Spanish class hangs around with other babes worthy of a Walsh pre-game (spring training) invite. It can even fill in the missing blackout blanks via sleazy pictures from the previous weekend.

However, a little known attribute of facebook, one that is quickly gaining notoriety, especially throughout Broston College Headquarters, is the technique known as “going left.” Here’s how it works: Hypothetically speaking, let’s say you’re on Uncle Chafe’s profile. You click, “View Photos of Uncle Chafe,” but instead of rapid-fire clicking to see recent photos of Uncle, you lay off the trigger. Instead, you click the first photo of him, then head back in time. Start pushing the left arrow, one at a time, indulging yourself in the earliest images of him on The Book.

It’s a great tool to see if a chick used to be hot, was always hot, or just became hot. It’s a great way to determine the validity of the “Four straight baseball State Championships” story your buddy reeled off in front of two 8 mans worth of chicks. It’s an especially great tool for gauging the impact of the “Freshman 15” on any and all individuals. If a picture is worth a thousand words then those 917 tags are worth 917,000 (thank you Finite Math).

Verse of the Week - Drake, Stuntin Dedication 3


Here I go. Im a rapper turned singer. And you can tell that he smoke,
but I don't need my vocal cords, all I hit is C-Notes.
N.E.R.D flow, i spaz if im prevoked
I'm about to change the fuckin game, pass the re-mote.
Money is everythang, and its every other thing.
I'm part of the choir, its the motto that my brotha sang.
Cash is the right now, women are the post game.
Money-over-bitches dot com check the domain.
It's comin too soon, album on the way.
People ask me if I pray, I say yup, once in the blue moon.
Oops I mean a red moon... I did it again to 'em.
Let me leave a station for your blood affiliation.
I say, heavy metaphors, flow so over weight.
I can rap around these other youngins like a cobra snake.
Frost bite drizzy nigga, no body as cold as Drake.
Keep yo ass in-line, don't be tryin to roller skate.
Fuck all the discreet shit, I get on some deep shit.
I am twenty-one tell me who do I compete with?
I'm on my elite shit, you can tell I'm real cause I'm getting hood lovin I ain't even talkin' street shit.
Young angel, young lyin and I'm done tryin.
I'm just doin, who's drinkin cause I'm buyin.
It's on meee, everything is on meee.
And my girl is still down like she's fuckin John B
And when I go dumb, I tend to do dumb shit
I just listen back and now I'm sounding like a trumpet.
This is for all the stripper cause I know that they gonna bump it: back it up and dump it, back it, back it up and dump it.
Ain't no pistols here, yo money will disappear.
My accountant will feed his family off my fiscal year.
Text brackets and back and forth faxes
My money comin full circle, get up on my axis.
Debie Imma kill 'em, only cause I promised
They think I'm being cocky but I'm only being honest.
I'm swallowin the goose, got a model gettin loose, and I never party unless I got some bottles in the booth.
I just walk up on the scene, I'm about to take this, I'm just having patience cause I want it to make sense.
White cup, orange pop, Tennessee state shit, drop a fo in it and appreciate the greatness.. DRAKE!

Monday, March 15, 2010

Top 500 Feelings - #186 Getting Two Girls to Make Out

This seasoned vet has a few things to say on this timeless topic. Seriously, this is how James Naismith must have felt when he talked hoops. First of all, for any and all amateurs out there, this is a far easier task than you would think. My number 1, go-to, Timmy Lincecum, shutdown, gas throwing maneuver is, “If you two make out, we’ll make out” (meaning you and your bro). For some ungodly reason, girls (drunk girls) will tend to believe this lie of lies. Honestly, have you ever seen two straight guys make out? (If you have please e-mail us so we can open whomever it was up to relentless, unforgiving ridicule). The fact is, I take that route the majority of times I try to get girls to hook it. Success Rate: 70% (standard deviation of 5%). Amount of times I’ve had to hook up with a dude to make it happen: 0.

The backup plan (what I like to call the Jim Sorgi of getting girls to make out) is the classic, sturdy, and straightforward “You won’t.” For some reason women are always trying to prove themselves to us. The WNBA, Title 9, the 19th Amendment, Hillary Clinton, and this little trick are all examples of that fact.

The last thing I wanted to mention is how it always seems like one of the girls is way more in to it than the other. You'll frequently have one chick who grabs the face of “less interested girl,” while they shove their bi-curious tongue down the throat of the innocent rookie. Senses of great pride and accomplishment pump through my veins every time I get to watch this miracle of nature take place. For that reason, I hereby grant every dumb, drunk, college girl entrance in to the Top 500 Feelings. Congratulations, and don't tell Daddy.

Sleazy Weekend Updates!

Now apparently a certain New York Giants linebacker originally from Lynn, MA, is still trying to make up for lost time at Vanderbilt when he couldn't go out on some nights due to football. He was spotted last night at Baseball Tavern. It appears that he got what he wanted out of the night with the help of female BC Student, who readily accepted the all-out blitz coming her way. Wham, Bam, Thank you Ma'am. You brought a Giants Linebacker into Walsh. That’s sick.

Now on a different note I’d like to talk about the Nazi bouncers that were working last night. We all paid 25 bucks. Let us in man. It's like you guys are trying to be featured on Anti-Bro of the Week. With a simple "no" they can ruin dreams and end a night in a second.

Despite these chafe-enablers, I wanted to touch on the extremes that were taken to enter the open bar. Example 1 involves a bro that casually snuck past the bouncers and then played it off as if they checked his ID to the wrist band bitch. Well done kid, that was bold (and sleazy). The second example was much crazier, and involved Thebronious Monk. Now, Thebronious Monk uses Johnny Utah’s old ID. To call it a piece of shit would be to give it a massive compliment. After arriving at Baseball Tavern and promptly getting rejected, he and his fellow frat stars go across the street to Jerry Remy’s in an attempt to save the night. Complete Failure. No one else there was under 25 and the place was dead. The highlight of the brief adventure was the order given by a Georgetown Bro to a particularly flirty waitress. “Get me what ever will fuck me up the most for the cheapest.” Genius. It’s the statement that every bro wants to make at the bar but just doesn’t have the balls to say. Now after realizing that Jerry Remy’s wasn’t fratty enough, the group of dudes decides to try to get into Baseball Tavern. Just one more time. If they played 'em 10 times they might win 9. But not tonight. They knew they never had a choice. The front door was out of the question so they decided to get creative and do their best Jason Bourne impression. They snuck into the back parking lot in search of a rear exit to the open bar. In an act of greatness, they decided to climb the fire ladder to the second floor and climb onto the second floor balcony, where a door was ajar and had a light on inside. Notorious B.R.O. and Thebronious peeped their heads around the corner and found themselves in the janitors closet of Baseball Tavern (sleaziest spot in Fenway?). As Uncle Chafe says, the chafe is always the greatest before the fresh. Thebronious led the way, telling Notorious to wait 20 seconds after opening the other door into the bar to see if it would work. It did. For Thebronious. Eagerly, Notorious opened the door about 5 seconds later and was narc'ed by a bouncer. The bouncer also had many questions as to why there were 5 people on a second story balcony close to midnight in pouring rain. Thebronious Monk had done it and was in. Shout out for all those who got denied. There’s always next time.

One of the more eventful events occurred not in the Tavern but rather in the shadows of Walsh. A group of felines were walking around, talking about make-up and stuff, when one took a tumble, knocking out 4 of her teeth in the process. We salute you, wonder woman. Teeth come and go but memories last forever. If I see a girl in Lower on Sunday morning missing 4 teeth, I know she had a better night than me.

Lastly, this weekend was the first time I personally had to do the A.M. walk of shame from Upper to Lower. Huge chafe. Not only was I hung over as balls but it was also fuckin pouring. I might as well have jumped in the reservoir. I now understand what my CoRo girls go through just to hang out with us Thurs-Sun. Thanks, I’m very appreciative of your dedication to the game. After explaining my situation to a St. Lawrence bro, he successfully changed my whole feeling about the walk of shame. There is absolutely no shame involved. By going on that walk you are showing everyone you pass that you got with a girl last night. Why would you ever hide that? You know that as soon as you get back to the pad, bros are going to ask where/who/what you plowed last night so why not let strangers know as well? Walk of Shame? No my friends, Stride of Pride.

P.S. In Broston's edition of the Wonka Factory's golden tickets, we will be issuing a similar contest in a quest to find the missing teeth. Prizes are to be determined.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

BroTube

Came across this at Fireside Chats last night:

A Bro You Should Know - Wade Boggs


This is more of an honorary tribute to one of the founding fathers of damn-near blasphemous drinking capacities than anything else. Everyone knows Wade Boggs and everyone knows his name is synonymous with the word hero in every way imaginable. Besides being a .328 career hitting first ballot Hall of Famer, a member of the All Century Team, and an avid fan of heroic beards and mustaches, Wade Boggs is also arguably the most prestigious drinker since the dawning of man. Never has a man been so feared by the lobster community.

According to baseball legend Wade Boggs once drank 64 Miller Lites on seven-hour cross-country flight from Boston to L.A. The flight also made a stop in North Dakota to refuel on gas and Miller Lites for Boggs. We can also add modesty to his long list of qualities because Boggs denies it was 64 beers. He’s clearly denying the story because he’s actually not a human being. He’s Crunkushevene (pronunciation key-Krunk-ooo-sha-veen), God of Drinking, and he doesn’t want his identity revealed. He’s trying to lead a normal life, just like the rest of us. He should be applauded for it. Plus 64 seems a little too specific to be a made up number.

And supposedly this wasn’t just one isolated incident of heroics, in fact one could call it standard. Former Yankee scrub Jeff Nelson was asked about the incident in a radio interview a few years back: “On a typical road trip, east coast to west coast, say a road game to Seattle……Wade would drink anywhere between 50 and 60 beers. I’ve never seen anyone drink as much beer as [Boggs] did in my life.” He went on to say: “I know how crazy that sounds, and I wouldn’t believe it myself unless I saw him do it…..numerous times. And he drank nothing but Miller Lite.”

Whether you knew it or not, December 15 is Wade Boggs Day, it's also his half-birthday. The traditional celebration of Wade Boggs Day includes the following challenge: Drink 32 Miller Lights before the end of the night. Beers that count towards the tally of 32 must be Miller Lites and can only be consumed by chugging, shot gunning, while playing beer softball, baseball (the drinking game), beer ball, dizzy bat, or while onboard a plane. The number of 32 beers is due to the fact that you can only be half the man Wade Boggs was, hence his half-birthday being the day of celebration. Legend has it if your somehow able to drink 64 Miller Lites on Wade Boggs day, you immediately ascend into heaven after finishing the 64th.



Chafe - "No Cards" at the Vending Machine


I don’t know who’s in charge of deciding when a vending machine can and cannot accept an Eagle Card, but I would love to have a word with him/her (probably her). Every time I need a water to quench my cotton mouth: “no cards." Every time I need a pack of gum for a walk to class: “no cards." Every time I need a snack to fight the munchies: “no cards." It’s almost as if they have a chafe switch that they can turn on and off with a flick of the wrist. Do they actually believe I’m going to forgo my BC monopoly money and use a real dollar bill of my own? The fact that it works sometimes and not others is just nonsensical to me. If McDonalds can stay open for 24 hours (with employees) I should be able to use my goddamn Eagle Card at the vending machine, without fail, for the entirety of my BC career.

P.S. Cape Cod Chips have been added to most of the machines around campy. Enjoy.

A Bro You Should Know - Joe Lunardi


Joseph Lunardi (aka Joey Brackets) is a college basketball analyst for ESPN. He is best known for creating Bracketology, which he calls the 'art and science' of predicting the teams that will be selected in the annual NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament. He's a bro you should know so take some time out of your day to turn on the tube and watch while Lunardi preaches to us about the upcoming mania.

What can we say about Poppa Lunardi? The man eats, drinks, shits and pisses NCAA tournament and we love him for it. Anyone who has ever sat in front of their computer on Selection Sunday refreshing the Bracketology page knows what it is to love Joe Lunardi.

So why do we love Lunardi? Think about the amount of people who have notoriety for literally under a month and then retreat to obscurity. Mel Kiper Jr., Ben Roethlisberger's latest ass-grabbing victim, Bob Costas, Jesper Parnevik, the girl in "She's All That," Henry Rolandgardener, Gustavo Kuerten, ESPN legal correspondent Lester Munson, Russ Tyler and Julie "The Cat" Gaffney, as well as Russ's shit-talking older brother who teaches the Ducks to play "school yard puck" in the streets of Los Angeles during the Junior Good Will Games. Let's face it, Joe Lunardi is the Punxsutawney Phil of ESPN.

What else do we love about Joe? His body and stature are representative of the common man. Is he good looking? No. Does he have flow? No. Does he have a curvy body? Yes. Honestly, he should. The man stares down brackets all day while he punishes fritos, queso, chowder and smooth grape soda.

Would anything suprise you about what Joe does during the off season? If I told you he ran an underground adult film ring would you bat an eyelash? If I told you he lived in Austria and sold bootleg DVD's would you be surprised? The man is a walking mystery when it comes to the months prior to the NCAA tournament.

He's a man's man, he has a body, he is awkward, he is fallible and he is a staple of the NCAA tournament. Cheers, Lunardi, enjoy your three weeks in the sun and then get off my screen and out of my life.

Coincidence? I Think Not.


This goes to show you that even randomly generated security checks pay homage to the greatness of Walsh Hall.

E-mail Us!


The brilliant minds behind BrostonCollege.com have managed to set up an e-mail account (it does seem out of our pay grade). E-mail us with feelings, chafes, sleazy encounters, toss ups, etc. As you know, we love haters, but we also love our fans (what fans?) and value any and all contributions.

BrostonCollege@gmail.com

Hit us up.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Happy Flannel Friday!

Top 500 Feelings - #396 Remembering A Dream From The Previous Night


There are a lot of things you don't remember these days (like Thursday night) but you have to realize that chafe is always darkest before the fresh. Forgetfulness makes it all the more special when you finally get your hands on that incredible dream you were having the night before and bring it back to reality so you can bask in its glory all day. Recently I remembered one in which I pitched a perfect game in MLB2k10 and won a million dollars. Not only that, but Hideo Nomo delivered the million to me in cash, in a briefcase. Oh how I love remembering a dream.

Chafe - Hooking up With Someone who Lives on Upper if you Live on Lower (and Vice Versa)


Let me just start by saying that I'm chafed just thinking about this topic and writing this article. There is not a human being at BC that wakes up on another campus (hopefully in a tuxedo) and doesn't think to themselves "fuck my life." The Upper-to-Lower walk is inexplicably long, and it seems like whenever you're forced to make it, it's early, cold, and rainy. A word to the ladies: If you live on Upper and someone from Lower is noble enough to sleep in your room, return the favor (seriously, return the favor). Then again, 90% of guys who sleep with a girl on Upper are just far too drunk to get back to home base. The only thing that could intensify this chafe would be customs in the Dust Bowl. I know what you're thinking: What about a Newton hookup? Wouldn't that be worse? Don't even say it, don't even think it. God bless any man who's strong enough to try it.


Play Time With Silver




Some blogs choose not to acknowledge how awesome a silver medal is and how cool it is to play with one drunkenly at Roggies. All I have to say is cheers to the Olympian that let us mess around with this thing for upwards of 15 minutes. We gave it back shortly before Notorious B.R.O. could be convinced to steal the thing. These bros make this silver look like solid gold.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Welcome!

After several painstakingly chafing months, we finally launched this thing. The posts below are most of what we’ve compiled to this point, and you can easily navigate through them using the list on the left. In essence, this website is completely inexplicable. Asking us to explain the contents of Broston College would be like asking us to explain the BCS in 10 words or less. Sorry, it just won’t happen. Look through it and you’ll get the picture pretty quickly.

P.S. We love haters

-Broston College

Anti-Bro of the Week - Sidney Crosby


Pissing off a group of bros is never a good thing (just ask Kyle Singler) but pissing off a whole country of bros is just flat out rude. Sidney Crosby has recently joined “America’s Most Wanted” and is currently in the 4 slot between Osama Bin Laden and Jose Saenz. On the 30th year anniversary of the 1980 Lake Placid Games Crosby spoiled the fun by netting a game winner against a true American hero, Ryan Miller. For everyone out there who lost their 12 beer buzz (9 beer buzz Pacific time) I feel for you and fully support any decision that involves grabbing a pitchfork and torch and heading to Pittsburgh to expose this clown. America’s young roster played their hearts out and deserved the gold medal over team “Terrance and Phillip." One thing's for certain, Alexander Brovechkin would have hit post to not only show off his sniping skills but to make sure that Chris Drury (another American hero who played in the little league world series) could have taken the puck coast to coast and netted the Mike Eruzione game winner. Sidney Crosby: Fuck yourself.

P.S. Canada, your lucky your drinking age is 18 or I would have come after the whole country.

P.P.S. I heard Sidney Crosby bobs for apples in the toilet……and he likes it.

Sleazy Weekend Updates!

This past weekend I was a witness to two separate bar bathroom hook ups. Now usually I’m never opposed to any spot for a hook up, but these two times I didn’t approve. For one, some girl got fucked in the Roggie's guys bathroom Thursday night in front of a crowd of dudes walking in and out. I mean come on. Walsh can’t be more than a mile away from there and you can’t tell me that bathroom was clean. I know I personally pissed on the floor and judging by how gross my shoes were, any other place in that basement wasn’t any better. On the other hand, Amen to the bro who got a girl to fuck him in there; hopefully you wrapped up.

The second bar hook up I witnessed this weekend was at Wonder Bar on Friday night. Now this bathroom has two urinals and one shitter and is half the size of a freshman dorm room. While I’m squeezed in there with a buddy taking a piss, two huge bouncers come in and rip open the stall door. Now at first I thought maybe some guy was in there just blowing lines because there was no way two people could fit in there. But no, the bouncer said that this was his second time taking the two of them out of there and that they were getting kicked out of the bar. Was it really worth it to sneak back into the bathroom again? People were hooking up all over the bar and if you really wanted some privacy, take it back to a room. I mean I’ve hooked up in bathrooms before but never one’s as dirty or trashy as these. But hey, if its what you love then its what you love.

Dictionary

A.C. Slater - When you take a shit but are facing the toilet, instead of away from it. Hence, you are sitting on the toilet like A.C. Slater always did on Saved by The Bell.

Adult Candy - A lip, dip, skoal.

Biscuit - A lip, dip, skoal.

Bullet - A lip, dip, skoal.

Buddy Spit - Filling your mouth with beer and then spitting it into a welcome receiver's mouth. They can either quench their thirst then or pass it on to someone else, forming a buddy spit chain. Naysayers are known to rip on buddy spits, citing reasons like "grossness", "manners", and "HIV".

Chafe - Anything that is bothersome or annoying. Examples include anything from stubbing your toe to getting kicked out of Walsh.

Chay Field - A field that has got to be mentioned in the conversation of the World's Best Fields, along with Costner's baseball-diamond-cornfield in Field of Dreams and the NCAA basketball tournament field. A rare place where people over the age of 40 are permitted to chay. Rumors have been circulating that women have been sighted on Chay Field but these sources are not confirmed.

Chi Chi's - Late night hot dog stand that one can never leave without having an eventful experience.

Cheddarbomb - When you throw a crumpled up bill (of any amount) at your friend. Biting the fuse like a grenade beforehand is always an option.

Chillside - A café that was built solely for people-watching where they just happen to sell food and drink.

Cuello - Cool, fresh, awesome, spectacular.

DCD - Designated Chay Day. A day involving unprecedented, fierce drinking. These days can be designated at the beginning of the day or much earlier in advance. For example, you can go through the calendar at the start of the year and pick out days where you know you're gonna get faced like: 4th of July, home football games against big rivals, Marathon Monday, etc. The only rule is that you cannot declare it to be a DCD once you have started drinking because that would mean that there was a time during the day when people were drinking without knowing it was a DCD, which would surely take away from the aggression with which they were drinking.

Deverage - A drink in Devlin 008.

Doggie - A lip, dip, skoal. Sizes of lips can be classified by breed (massive lips are great danes, quick baby lips are pugs, etc.)

Eternal Puddle - If you don't know where it is, feel free to ask one of us (if you don't mind being killed 60 seconds later). A puddle that stays a puddle year round (despite being roughly 3 feet in diameter). If you see it drying up at anytime please throw a splash of any liquid you have on your person on it. If you have no liquid on you, don't hesitate to do your best rain dance.

Flannie - Flannel (Friday attire).

Flattie - flat brim hat.

Flatty Foster Parents - You trade flattys with your bro and make a pact to not scuff each other's flatty. Particular bros will offer Flatty Insurance and Compensation, generally with an interest rate of %75.

Flintstoned - Abusing flintstone vitamins. new club drug apparently.

FPM - Feet per minute. A rating that in most states is required to be posted in all elevators. We love comparing speeds and bragging about speedy rides and moaning about slow ones. (Voute Hall, mythical elevator on Newton).

Fresh - The opposite of chafe. Anything that is cool or enjoyable.

FSU - fuck shit up. It's what we do, but mainly what Notorious B.R.O. does.

Fucked Down - Sober. not fucked up, thats for sure.

Graduation - Apocalypse.

Grapefruit - Another way of saying "bush league," like the Grapefruit League.

Grind - Stress-inducing work that must be done in order to chay. But remember, "All grind and no chay makes Jack a dull boy."

Job - fuckover, screw, force bad things upon an individual or group

Killing Spree - 5 straight days of drinking

Lawrence Taylor - Bringing a girl back to your room only to pay her no attention and beat off the whole time.

Lay Away - Making the mature decision to go out and buy food before you go to flight school, then going to flight school and having the amazing feeling of remembering you have food on lay-away for you.

Lobsters - Beers. known casually as "lobbies."

Onions - Overtime of any kind.

Poodles - Pouches. Pussy.

Post Facto Chafe - Something brought upon you, either through your actions or someone else's, that keeps coming back to haunt you. "That chili burger at dinner was amazing but when I was laying pipe later that night it was a classic case of post facto chafe."

Running Riot - 10 straight days of drinking

Shit That - The same thing as "fuck that". Many urban legends surround the tale of how this phrase was coined.

Spring Training - Pre-gaming

T-Party - Drinking on the T, the local public transport system.

Trog - Unattractive female.

Two's - How we shake hands. Touch two fingers in a variety of methods.

Vampire - Filling your mouth with beer and proceding to bite a passerby's neck. You kill two birds with one stone in that you bite their neck and explode beer all over their neck/torso. Hisses and growls in the seconds leading up to the vampire attack are optional but recommended.

Volcano Keg Stand - Exactly as it sounds, a keg stand, but with a volcano. Watch your lips, sweetheart, it's hot. As a result of heavy government funding, recent developments have been made by advanced biotech corporations involving materials similar to a 2'' PVC pipe that can be placed on top of the volcano to protect the stander's lips.

Walsh - The dormitory. Mecca.