Thursday, April 29, 2010

Sammy Adams In Maroon And Gold At Copperfield's

So Barstool is on Sam Adams's dick, and Sam is on ours. Transitive property anyone?

Shout-out to Jon from BC for the video. This kid is Scorsese with an iPhone.

A Bro You Should Know - Miguel Olivo

When one thinks of baseball-related injuries, pulled muscles, broken bones and the occasional line drive to the head are likely what come to mind. At the very bottom of the list is exactly the ordeal Rockies catcher Miguel Olivo endured Monday night, reports Jim Armstrong of the Denver Post.

With his team trailing 5-1 in the 8th inning, the Colorado backstop slipped into the team's bathroom and passed a kidney stone. Astonishingly, as soon as he got the stone out of his system, Olivo quickly jumped into his catching gear and trotted back onto the field.

Describing the superhuman feat, Olivo explained that when he has a kidney stone, "I just want to die." Yet he somehow overcomes the misery. "I can handle pain a little bit. Once it's gone, I'm normal."

- The Huffington Post

Miguel Olivo is a man amongst boys. Christ. Now we've all heard of people passing kidney stones, so what makes Olivo so special? He dropped this rock in the 8th inning. In the 9th, he got a single. That's equivalent to a woman giving birth and dropping 25 in a WNBA game 45 minutes later. Even better, he did the exact same thing the very next night. The man straight up embarrasses any kidney stone that dares enter his anaconda. That's one urethra I would never fuck with.

Top 500 Feelings - #400 Getting on the Jumbotron at a Sporting Event

There are a couple of ways to obtain this feeling. All of them result in the same sheer joy and excitement. The first way, and my personal favorite, is to be the crazy dancer during a timeout. Camera men beat it to individuals of this breed. Usually they go for the younger kids fist pumping in every direction like they have epilepsy, but every once in a while you’ll look up and see a Dad twisting and shouting like he’s actually Ferris Bueller. The second way to get on the big screen is to wear an absurd outfit. There is no half-assing this either. Some eye-black and a wig dyed the color of your team is more played out than Grant Hill's career. If you don’t go the distance, you know some kid out there (probably named Noah or Micah) has their full body painted with mohawks and/or mullets swinging a terrible towel as the stadium blasts “Let’s Go” by Trick Daddy. Only a select few will get face time because of their outfits so if you're going to have any shot at all you're going to have to swallow your pride and go all out. Let's be honest, we all love our teams, but you have to have a couple screws loose to wear something like that in public.

The third way involves the proposal or the kiss cam. This is virtually impossible, and I have no prior experience, so I'm not going to sit here and preach about it. The last and final way is the easiest. Just sit courtside and chirp at the opposing team. Even if you don’t have a close up of your face you can still call your friends and give them your exact outfit, location and time when you’ll wave your hand/flip the bird so they can find you like you’re Waldo. Getting on the Jumbotron is a great feeling, all you have to do is decide how you’re going to do it.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

A Bro You Should Know - Mr. Linfante

You may be asking yourself, who is this mystery bro Mr. Linfante? Plainly, he’s everything you should aspire to be. If being a Boston College graduate isn’t enough to convince you, how about the fact that he’s still a doggy packing machine. Bro’s come in all shapes, sizes and forms. Mr. Linfante is a unique breed. This hero is fluent three different languages: English, Latin, and Cuello. English is a far too complex language,plus it sucks to teach, especially when you have to abandon all the slang that you grew up with (chafe: not being able to use slang). The job market for Cuello is pretty tough right now especially in this economy. Being the bro that he is, Mr. Linfante decided to go with Latin, the tongue that he currently teaches at Delbarton School in New Jersey (shoutout to Delbarton lax bros, you guys are fresh). This is a genius move, seeing as Latin is a dead language. Chew on this for a second: If all of the Latin teachers of the world banded together, they could together cease the existence of the language and kill it off once and for all (imagine having the power to murder a language). The only reason they elect not to is because then they wouldn’t be able to chill all day sitting at a teacher’s desk, surfing the web showing fresh websites to their pupils (mostly Broston College) and translating words that no one will ever actually use in real life (maybe it will come in handy for one problem on the SAT). My gut instinct tells me that Mr. Linfante can translate this whole post to Latin in under 3 minutes, but chooses not to because he doesn’t want to be a show off (yes, he’s humble as well). He’s the cool teacher that everyone hopes to get in high school, and a bro who doesn’t show any signs of slowing down in the near future. Here’s to you Mr. Linfante. Keep teaching our Delbarton bros-in-training Latin, so they can put it on their college application and come join the Broston College network.

Happy Thursday!

I know you're tired. I know you're hurting, and I wish I could say something that was classy and inspirational, but that just wouldn't be our style. Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Thursdays... last forever.

Chafe - Separating While Talking To Someone In The Dustbowl

I really wanted this kid to move out of the shot, but he was walking at pace similar to that of Jamie Moyer's heater so I got impatient and took the pic anyways. This doesn't exclusively apply to the BC Dustbowl. If you have ever slowly separated from someone on different routes mid-conversation you know what an awkward chafe this can be.

The Dustbowl is in the middle of campus. One of these paths leads to McElroy, the other leads to Upper (this is definitely more of a Freshman/CoRo chafe, because why else would someone be walking to Upper? Oh that's right I lived there for 5 nights voluntarily). You could be walking with your roommate, a cute girl you know who you spotted in the quad, or a sketchy group project acquaintance who thinks you actually want to have a conversation. You finally realize the two of you are heading to different destinations, and at this point the chafe is inevitable. You start to separate, voices rising as you get farther and farther away from each other. When does it stop? Am I going to have to wait until you get out of fucking earshot? This is painful for you, the person you're talking to, and every human being in the greater Chestnut Hill area.

Verse of the Week - I'm So Paid


Big money Weezy
White wife beater with the sig underneath it
How do I feel bitch I feel undefeated
Snap my fingers disappear from the precinct
I'm ballin' we ball out
Thoughts of we fallin' until the ball bounce
I send some niggas with guns at y'all house
Only to find out you live in a doll house
But I thought you was tough though
We carry choppers on our necks
Call it cut throat
We, bury cowards on the set that they come from
We know magic,
Turn weed smoke to gun smoke
We, ball first when we ride
You, in a hearse when you ride
I put my shoe down baby
And I'm holding down Young Mula baby!
That's why...

The Art of the Profile Picture

Everyone knows when they look good in a Facebook picture. At the same time, everyone knows when they look bad. It's common courtesy not to untag a photo of yourself after a chick goes out of her way to tag you. So, most of the time you just have to bite the bullet and hope a fresh new crop of photos from the past weekend comes in to hide your subpar tag. Most of the pictures of you on Facebook are out of your own control and in the hands of that chick who is Picasso with the camera, capturing the night’s festivities in 113 photos. But don’t panic if you aren’t photo friendly, because Mark Zuckerberg has got your back. First impressions are very important and a Facebook first impression is your profile picture. You choose your profile picture. You choose what people see when they are deciding who's hot and who's not. You choose how tan you want to look in the winter. You choose how jacked you want to look in the summer. You choose everything.

When you have a limited profile (mega-chafe when it comes to scouting broads), your profile picture is the determining factor for the stalker to decide if he/she wants more (usually a he). A good profile picture can spur friend requests and a bad pic can erase future dancefloor makeouts before they even have a chance to happen. When you throw on your go-to outfit during the Walsh spring training session, your mind HAS to be focused on nothing more than finding the perfect lighting in the mod that night.

What I highly advise against is group profile pictures. This can often backfire if someone in the picture is way hotter than you. One way to assert your presence in a photo is to “crop.” Cropping can make or break a profile picture as well as make or break a friendship. Nothing is worse than when a friend calls you out for cropping them out. Even better is the half-crop, where you annihilate half of your friend's face. Classic. Moral of the story is don’t pick favorites unless they are of the opposite sex, in which case you can show off and brag to your friends about your profile picture if it's a stone cold fox caressing her paws all over your torso. Also, be aware of others' feelings also. If you look ridiculously good looking in your profile picture but your friend didn't really come to play that night, show some loyalty and pass on using that picture. Go find the next best to picture to use so you aren’t bringing anyone else down indirectly. What's good for the goose is good for the gander.

The art of the profile picture is much more complex than most people think but it is in the back of our minds regardless if we want to admit it or not. Cuello.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

I'm So Jacked Up For It Already

I'm Noticing a Pattern

For the second time in a week, Barstool has once again stolen our shit. Congrats Portnoy, hacking college kids who have a had a blog going for a month or so might be a new low for you. Unlike him, we didn't issue a scolding-mom-type of an article on the topic, rather we commended this flight school connoisseur for having the stones to tell the world that he loves ripping bowls and slamming brownies like he's a starved kid in Sudan. Over/under on the amount of time until Portnoy uses the word "chafe" in an article? I'm saying under 14 days.

Speaking of Stoner Football Players...

Ricky Williams' 30 for 30 is on ESPN tonight at 8 p.m. Eastern... 7 p.m. in Jamaica. Sit back and watch one of the most functional stoners of our generation tell his tale. Along with Michael Phelps and Tim Lincecum, Williams has made great strides toward the acceptance and tolerance of ganja-abusing athletes and we all have our fingers crossed that this isn't some "I'm clean now" sob story.

People Responding Less Than "Good" When Asked "How Are You"

Walking through the mods on the way to class, you see someone you are acquaintances with, not exactly buddy-sip partners with, and who you damn sure wouldn't feel comfortable changing in front of. So you ask one of the only questions known to man where the answer does not matter. "How are you?" You keep walking, expecting their response to be "good" as you pass by. Then you hear them drop a timid "I'm okay" or "Been better". Don't you get it? This is the definition of a rhetorical question. I have better shit to do than hear you whine about your high school boyfriend/girlfriend who still texts you every few months. I don't wanna listen to you explain the way in which your dog died. And although I normally ask how your test went (also a very rhetorical question), I could give a shit if you got a 25 or a 95. I would much rather sneak glances at that one mod where girls are always sunbathing. Call your mom or some shit. Christ, even talk to your peer advisor (I have no idea what they do but I think it's something to do with stuff like this). If that doesn't work, cut your wrists. Whatever you do, don't bring me into this. Just remember, I will never ever care about anything going on in your life.

Coaster of the Week - Plex Treadmill

Pothead Aaron Hernandez

Aaron Hernandez, whom the Patriots chose in the fourth round of the NFL draft Saturday, had earned the reputation as perhaps the most dangerous pass-catching tight end prospect.

He had also earned the reputation as a risky selection.

According to sources with three NFL teams, the Florida product’s precipitous fall was because of multiple failed drug tests for marijuana as a collegian.

Hernandez was open about his marijuana use at the Scouting Combine in February. “He admits to it,’’ said one longtime NFL executive who interviewed him there.

- The Boston Globe

Ok, so let me get this straight. Aaron Hernandez failed like 5 or 6 drug tests for weed. He was open about his weed-smoking at the combine, and as a result, fell from being a probable first-rounder to a 4th round Pat. First of all, respect to Hernandez. He knows he smokes weed, he knows he's probably not going to stop smoking weed because of some stupid NFL draft, and he's obviously pretty fucking cocky about his natural athleticism and ability. Love it. Furthermore, props to the Pats for not really giving a shit that this kid smokes weed on the reg, and picking him anyways, because they know he's that good and they knew how lucky they were to fall in to him in the 4th round. Pothead football fans all across American rejoice, you have your new hero.

Lincoln Chafee In Race For Governor Of Rhode Island

I think you can guess who's getting our endorsement...

"Kiss My Ass Haters"

Top 500 Feelings - #500 Receiving A Text

Don't argue with it. If there are 500 great feelings out there, getting a text has got to be the last of them. No matter how many times you get one, the sensation really never gets old. You feel that little vibration in your pocket, you notice the screen light up on the table, you hear your buddy, "Bro I think you're blowing up." Immediately the most diluted, watered-down euphoria hits you. I would call it the smallest orgasm known to man. One could argue that receiving a text you know is from a chick (meaning you just sent a girl a text and the reply was so quick that it probably wasn't someone else) is like feeling #499.5, but anyone who took Finite knows you have no choice but to round up. I mean honestly, tell me you don't feel like Ron Jeremy in a YMCA shower when you go back to your phone after working out (probably curls with 22.5 lb weights) and see "4 new text messages." Whether it's on your iPhone, your Crackberry, or on your "why-the-fuck-do-you-still-have-that-piece-of-shit" flip phone, receiving a text really is the last of man's great feelings, but a pleasurable one nonetheless.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Records Falling

Here I am, chafed out of my mind, grinding as hard as I have all semester. And there it was. Light in the darkness. 180 friends online? Yes please. I like to consider myself average when it comes to popularity, and for someone like me, this is an extraordinary number. One that will make the 55 on my upcoming Spanish prueba a little more tolerable. Aaron had his 755 (fuck you, Bonds). Uncle Chafe has his 180.

Top 5 - Places To Go To "Flight School" With Mary Jane (Notorious B.R.O.)

1. The Polar Express

2. Angel Falls, Venezuela

3. Pandora (as an Avatar, humans can't breathe the air)

4. Apollo 13

5. Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory

Walsh Personal Liquor Store

Rumor has it you have to show proof that you live in Walsh to buy there...

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Spitter of the Week - Cracker Jack Bag from Fenway

Chafe – Everyone Asking You For A Piece Of Gum

It’s inevitable. Unless you go stealth and not let a soul know you have gum, you're bound to lose more than 80% of your pack at any given moment. Just pray it's not 5-Elixir edition. In it’s simplest form it is a great display of chain reaction. You get out your gum, your friend sees you have a lot left so he asks for a piece. Your other friend sees that both of you have gum and feels left out so he asks for a piece. Before you know it everyone is sticking their hands out expecting a piece to be nicely placed on their palm. It turns into a sort of soup-kitchen-but-with-gum-instead fiasco. It's literally Communist when you think about it. People are doing no work and expect to be rewarded. Everyone thinks they’re doing no harm since they are only taking one piece of gum. What everyone forgets, myself included, is that the one piece mentality adds up in the end to be a large portion of your pack of gum. If everyone just had their own gum, we wouldn’t have to deal with this chafe.

Friday, April 23, 2010

It Was Only A Matter Of Time

We knew it would happen eventually, and we hesitate to get too excited but... Barstool stole our shit!!!!!! Gotta love when another blog recognizes something you filmed and experienced. You'd think Portnoy would have had the courtesy to site his sources. You're welcome.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Where Are They Now - Steve Burns From "Blue's Clues"

"What the fuck is Blue's Clues?" You know exactly what it is you lying bitch. Blues Clue's was the shit from like age 6 to age 9 (I think). You followed around a little cartoon dog named Blue, along with this creepy guy named Steve, finding clues and solving mysteries (what could be better?). After he won the hearts of young children all across America, Burns decided the music world would be fun to absolutely own the shit out of next. After the clues ran out in 2002, Burns began work on his first album "Songs For Dustmites" at his house in Brooklyn, which was produced by PIAS Records later in '03. After posting 11 songs on his
webpage, he realized his album fucking blew and enlisted the help of the Flaming Lips to be sort of like his new Blue and solve the mystery of turning his dog shit record in to something that wasn't complete and utter torture. They helped him finish it, and one of the members of the Lips even cast him in a movie in 2008 called Christmas on Mars. Big Steve also played a vampire in a horror-comedy with Darrel Hamond called Netherbeast Incorporated in 2006. The heroic Burns would later start a band called "Steve Burns and The Struggle" (Big Steve is now a fucking bad ass if you haven't noticed) and is currently working on his next album, "Deep Sea Recovery Efforts." I'm pretty sure the video posted below qualifies as soft-core pornography.

Chafe - Getting Called On In Class When You're Not Paying Attention

It’s not that we don’t want to pay attention, it’s just that it's too hard to pay attention. If classes were only 25 minutes (the average length of an Entourage episode) then believe me, teachers would have our undivided attention. They dig their own grave by allowing computers in class, and just can't combat the usage of iPhones or Blackberrys like they could a Motorola Razr. When you throw in the presence of a friends sitting next to each other, you can see how it can be virtually impossible to retain a single word that comes out of a teacher's mouth. Getting called on when you’re not paying attention in class is sort of a revenge-chafe. Teacher’s get pissed when no one is answering their questions and try to get back at us degenerates by calling us out. They know we don’t know the answer and we know we don’t know the answer. If you’re the quick, witty type (which you're not) then you can sometimes dig yourself out of this ditch, but most of the time you’re better off just wearing it and pulling the classic, “Uhhhhhh….I don’t know.” One way to prevent this chafe is to act like you’re paying attention by glancing at the book (that you probably forgot) every once in a while to make it look like you’re searching for the answer. Another, riskier way to prevent this chafe is to make eye contact with the teacher occasionally to make it seem like you're engaged. Either way just say a quick prayer before class that Uncle Chafe gets called on instead of you and maybe, just maybe, you’ll escape another day of not paying attention.

Epic Buddy Spit.

Top 5 - Places To Go To "Flight School" With Mary Jane (The Great Fratsby)

1. Narnia

2. Woodstock

3. After planting the flag on the moon with Neil Armstrong

4. Niagara Falls

5. Just before participating in the heist in Ocean's Eleven

Fireside Chats - Law Of Diminishing Returns While Cheating

When you have a solid group of bros cheating on the same test there's always going to be a discrepancy of scores. At the top of the lineup card you've got you're QB (sorry for using two different sport references in one sentence, sue me). Hopefully your man-under-center isn't an an ass grabber and is focusing on nothing but getting your group out of that multiple choice section alive. This kid is your Lebron, your King Leonidas, your Adam Banks. The kind of dude that will just strap a band of retards to his back and carry them up the mountain that is their Not So Basic Finance Test. If the bro with the "C" on his jersey can do some cheating of his own (on the smart girl who writes fucking huge or the girl you kind of know from class who doesn't really have a problem with getting cheated off of) and pull off any score in the 90's, the team is in good shape moving forward (let's call it a 90).

If you're smart, you're throwing your second best test-taker next to your #1. This is your Mo Williams/Lamar Odom type. They're gonna go out there and give a solid effort and fill a roll with a hopefully-sturdy performance. This is usually either the adequately smart kid who didn't have a chance to study, or the retard who studied really hard to try and make up for his lack of contribution on the last test. But let's face it, this kid hasn't had an original thought since the 8th grade, he knows he's not the hero in this Disney movie, and he's still relying on Captain Jack pretty heavily. If you can keep your 2-hole guy 85 or above, everyone on the squad should have wood (call it an 86).

Next you have your slightly-above-autistic kid who's probably using his iPhone/Blackberry to compliment what he picks up from the first two bros. This kid is one of the dumber of the crew, but my God can he cheat. This is the guy who has literally cheated on every test he's ever taken (driver's license, SAT, and citizenship tests included). He's not brain dead, and he knows every trick to the trade. This dude's gonna pull off the sneaky, sleazy, how-the-fuck-did-he-do-that 82.

After this point, it's really all about seating. Which of the kids with the IQ's of my Norwich Terrier got to class earliest and seated themselves next to the top 3? Which of these guerillas has the best eye sight? Which of them just relied on the Asian kid sitting next to them? For these idiots, the words on the page literally have no meaning. The answers might as well be unidentified symbols, because all they're actually doing is copying shapes as they seem them. Keeping these kids in the "C" range is difficult but not impossible. They owe the top 3 their lives and their athletic eligibility, but a team's a team.

Point discrepancy between members of a cheating crewschev: 3 points with a standard deviation of 2.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Just Because...

Broston Ad

We can make our own ads also...

Coaster of the Week - Green Monster

Quick Day-After Update

Girl next to me in class just ran like a bat out of hell to go puke. Some people just can't handle Vegas. The hero even let me take a picture for Broston.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

'Twas The Night Before Monday

I'm reposting this now because no one will be on their computers this weekend. And because it deserves to be seen. Notorious, we love you, wherever you are. Without further ado,

'Twas the night before Monday, when all throughout Walsh, the sluts and the bros all prepared for the raunch. The 30’s were lined in the fridgeys with care, in hopes that Crunkushevene soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of beer dragons danced in their heads. And Jenkem’s in his croakies, and I in my flatty, had just cracked ourselves our first scrumptious Natty.

When out in the Mods there arose such a clatter, I sprang to the window to see what was the fratter. Away to the Mods we flew with a flash, threw on some fresh pinnies to prepare for the bash.

Jenkem’s screamed out: “What’s that, is it chay?” I looked to the sky, dropped my jaw and said “Nay!” When, what to my blood shot eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh spewing out beer.

With a legend old driver, a drinking machine, I knew in a moment it must be Crunkushevene. Quicker than gravity he chugged like a boss, he howled and he shouted “FUCK YOU MIKE ROSS!

He descended from the heavens, and called us by name. Then he echoed out amongst us and explained why he came. “I’ve come for the crunk,” he said with a grin. “I know of tomorrow, now, who brought the tin?”

Lucky for us, I was strapped with a tinny, and I pulled out the Skoal tucked under my pinny. “I’ve seen you before,” Jenkems said with a pause. “Me too” I agreed… "Aren’t you…
Wade Boggs?”

My question amused him, he laughed and he said : "'Tis but a farce my good bros, you’ve all been misled. I am more than this beard and this Rays jersey of green. I am the Keeper of the Crunk, some call me Crunkushevene.”

“Now bros, I need pussy! Go find me a vixen. I’ve flown miles to be here, now I need me a fixin'. From the skanks of Co Ro, to the sluts of Walsh Hall, dash away, dash away, dash away all!”

The task at hand was not tough at all, just dropped the name Boggs and the sluts they did fall. After slaying 47 girls in 30 minutes or so, Boggs was done, and he was ready to go.

He climbed back on board his magnificent jet, and quickly inhaled 13 Miller Lites like a legendary vet. Climbing high into the heavens his plane it did soar, ascending to the ranks of Monday folklore.

There we stood, minds in a daze, still bedazzled by the great Boggs’ ways. From the stirrups to the biceps to the impeccable stache, his aura was majestic, his style unmatched.

Now it was bound to be a Monday unlike any other. Boggs came to Walsh as a god, but left as our brother.

He DUI’d his sleigh back to who-knows-where, beer dripping down his chin and Skoal ingrained in his facial hair. Off to a land where women were objects and “No means Yes”, how many he assaulted he’ll never confess.

Knowing not of personality nor brains, Boggs focused on breasts. The children lay warm anticipating a Monday of buddy sips and arrests.

Saturday, April 17, 2010


No shit Joe Lunardi is ready, ESPN. You think Joey Brackets is just gonna hang up his bracket shoes and call it a career? Please. The man is frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog at the thought of having 96 teams in the tournament (even though no one else is). Now it's a given that we won't hear from Lunardi until mid-February '11 or so, but somewhere on Earth this half-man/half-god is sharing time eBaying Old Dominion jerseys and jerking it at the thought of the street cred he could get from predicting a correct Final Four. So yeah, you could say he's pretty busy. 

Friday, April 16, 2010

Richmond Pig Roast

This is just why everyone should have an iPhone. Forget about the maps, apps and music, you buy this gadget so that when you're at Richmond Pig Roast you can capture a horrifically awkward make-out. We don't have frats at BC, so naturally we were pretty eager to immerse ourselves in the frattastic culture of Richmond. The frats at Richmond all have lodges, basically houses with dance floors, big decks, and bars used strictly for partying. At one end of the row of lodges is SAE, where we started our day. It's the frattiest frat and all of the hot girls hang out there so it was the obvious choice. Because there were so many people there sucking down beers, they ran out pretty quickly. We bounced. At the other end of the "lodge row" there was FIJI. When all other frats decided to dedicate their days to lax pinnies and cute girls in sun dresses, one frat dared to be different. FIJI was a magical place and an inspiring experience. It's a place that focused it's attention solely on ugly, fat girls and awkward make outs. They had beer left, and we got this absolute gem of a video. When you have such a masterpiece, you just have to let it speak for itself.

Boom Shakalaka

The after math....

Top 5 - Places To Go To "Flight School" With Mary Jane (Lieutenant Jenkems)

1. When King Tut was getting mummified

2. With Matt Damon and Ben Affleck while they were writing Goodwill Hunting

3. In the studio when Notorious wrote Juicy

4. In the Oval Office at the White House

5. In Monet's Garden

Fresh Stanley Cup Playoffs Commercials

If you haven't gotten a chance to see all of these yet, I highly advise you watch them.

Happy Futbol Jersey Friday!

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Anti-Bro of the Week - Rakim Sanders

CHESTNUT HILL, Mass. -- Boston College junior forward Rakim Sanders has asked for his release to transfer, which has been granted by the new coaching staff, multiple sources told Thursday.

A formal release from the school is expected this week. Once a release is official, schools are allowed to contact the player.

Sanders met with new coach Steve Donahue and the two agreed it would be best if Sanders continued his career elsewhere.

Sanders, who is from Pawtucket, R.I., told the staff that he might go to Providence or Rhode Island, but multiple sources confirmed that Sanders likely will end up at Fairfield, sitting out under former BC assistant and current Fairfield head coach Ed Cooley.

Sanders would have one season to sit and then one to play.

Sanders averaged 11.3 points a game for the Eagles last season. He averaged 12.9 points as a sophomore. Sanders was hampered by a sprained ankle against Saint Joseph's in the third game of the season after being suspended for the first two games.

Sanders then didn't play for the next six games because of the high ankle sprain. He never quite found his rhythm last season as the Eagles struggled, but he had his moments, scoring 22 points against South Carolina and 14 in a win over North Carolina.

The 6-foot-5, 228-pound Sanders would be a hit for the Stags in the MAAC in 2011-12, if he were to end up playing there for Cooley.

- Andy Katz,

Say it ain't so, Rakim. Does he think he has a better shot of getting to the League from Fairfield, Connecticut? Was the freak athlete that he is a bigger fan of Skinner's grind-it-out, flex offense than he is of the more up-and-down style that Steve Donahue is sure to implement? Chafe me harder BC hoops. It's Brady Heslip's show now anyways. This kid's jump shot makes me feel warm inside.

Chafe - Getting A Test Back At The End Of Class

Really? Last class on a Thursday and you’re torturing me with this shit? It’s just how the universe works. The weekend is at you’re fingertips, but they really make you work for it. You have to know the darkness to know the light, and sitting here waiting to get back a test at the end of an hour and fifteen minute class is without a doubt the darkness. What is the point of waiting until the very end of class to hand the tests back? You have them. We want them. Why can’t we just make this happen when we walk in? Most teachers think that handing tests back at the beginning of class is counterproductive because students will only look at the test and not focus on the class. First of all, most kids just want to see what they got and don’t give a flying fuck about what actually happened on the test, and second of all, we really don’t pay attention anyways. Listen, we get it Professor, you have the power. You have the ability to chafe us and you exercise it. Please just give me my fucking test.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Happy Thursday!

"Welcome to Thursday. The first rule of Thursday is: you do not talk about Thursday. The second rule of Thursday is: you DO NOT talk about Thursday! Third rule of Thursday: if someone yells "stop!", goes limp, or taps out, the Thursday is over. Fourth rule: only two guys to a 30. Fifth rule: one shot at a time, fellas. Sixth rule: Thursdays are bare knuckle. No shirt, no shoes, no weapons. Seventh rule: Thursdays will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule: if this is your first time out on a Thursday, you have to black out."

Just Because We're So Emotional About This Portnoy Thing...

Oh No You Didn't

For all of you who don't know, Barstool took another shot at BC today, this time taking aim at the BC residents of Titletown (the hockey squad).

This isn't going to be as vicious an attack as most of you would probably expect. Did the assault of the hockey kids send us over the edge? Obviously. We're bros with a blog, they're bros on skates, so naturally we were ready to come to their defense. Does Cam Atkinson manage to be the leading goal scorer in the nation, wear a simba costume to a party, and get pussy all in one night? You bet your ass he does. We'll send Barstool a picture of Halloween next year, but instead of these costumes they'll be wearing nothing but mid-calf socks and their rings. I don't really think I have to go in to the math behind why a BC National Champ hockey player > Sketchy, blogging Portnoy, and I'll spare you all the 70,000 word document that explaining such a hypothesis would require. "Hey shutup! You guys blog too!" Yes, Portnoy, we know we blog, but we do it for the absurd amounts of pussy that get thrown our way as a result, and you're married. Furthermore, we do it from class (it's chill to do stuff in class other than pay attention), and you do it from your Buffalo Bill-like blogging shack. Case closed.

But like I said, this is not going to be a horrifically long Barstool-bashing (as much as I would like it to be). Instead, I'd simply like to offer the Pres a challenge. Any competition he wants that embodies Barstool v. BC (BC brought to you by Creative writing contest? Jenga vs. a football player? Scrabble vs. a rugby guy? Shotgun vs. a hockey bro? Ultimate fighting vs. UGBC President Al Dea? Parkour vs. the Parkour freaks? Academic decathlon? You name it, Portnoy, and we'll be there. Stop hiding in your blogging layer and come out to play. You've conquered chat roulette and giving Sam Adams dome, wouldn't Chestnut Hill be a great place to make your mark next?

P.S. If you decide to post about us you'll send our hit-count into the stratosphere, which we'd love (not to mention our unfaltering affection for all haters), and if you don't then you're a bitch and we win the fight by default. Check mate, Portnoy.

We'll be at Copperfield's tomorrow night chirping at your wonder-boy rapper for two hours straight in the front row. See you there?

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Fireside Chats - The Girl Who Your Roommate Sexiles You With

This is a completely unique relationship. There's really nothing else like it at college. Everyone manages to get a girl back to their room once in a while, and everyone is inevitably sexiled at one point or another during their stay on The Heights. But the relationship you have with the girl your roommate is hooking up with is a special one. You see them on the way in. You see them on the way out. You see them at their drunkest. You see them at their groggiest/ugliest in the morning. You pass each-other on your way to class thinking, "Yeah, you fuck my roommate," while she's thinking, "Yeah, I fuck your roommate," and that's the complete extent of the relationship. You really do know more about the sound of their moans than you do about their personalities.

It's one of the more awkward relationships on campus, seeing as how you literally have no information about her besides the fact that she jacked your roommate's Texas shorts you wanted to steal to work out in. What happens when you stop hooking up? She thinks you're judging her because you've seen her naked twice accidentally, and she knows you know that she's moved on to that kid you saw her in the Chocolate Bar with. To say "Hi" on the walk by, or to not? Do you go out of your way to avoid them in the quad, or do you have the balls for the straight shoulder-pass?

Coaster of the Week - Brim Of A Game Bar Hat

Top 5 Signs/Objects To Steal (Uncle Chafe)

(1) Phil's Green Jacket

(2) Stefi Graff and Andre Aggasi's son

(3) Tom Cruise's Ray-Bans from "Risky Business"

(4) The star that covered Janet Jackson's nipple at the Super Bowl

(5) The bong that Michael Phelps got caught with