The Black Sheep
Fr ee ... li fr ke c es hm onv an ers at ati a p on ar wi ty th . a
• a college newspaper that’s actually about college •
Volume 2, Issue 5 4/3/13 - 4/17/13
party friend etiquette Oliver Cross wrote this
In life, as in a Jane Austen novel, etiquette is very important. Unlike the world of Austen, however, real life situational etiquette can be confusing and obtuse. What’s that? That’s exactly like a Jane Austen novel? Sorry, we Sparknoted Pride and Prejudice in 10th grade, sue us. In college especially, etiquette can be particularly challenging, as the rules of decorum we are inundated with from an early age give way to new, exciting encounters and newer, more exciting foreign substances. The most universal of these situations is undoubtedly the college party. Everyone loves a good party, whether it’s in your suitemate’s dorm room, surreptitiously undertaken in the company of their hideous Rastafarian tapestry or at a fraternity house surrounded by two hundred vessels of questionable action. The most appealing aspect of parties is the opportunity to make new friends. Or to get hammered, but usually the two go hand in hand. The only problem with becoming best buds with the bro holding your ankles as you keg stand, or the kind soul holding your hair back as you simultaneously ruin your Frye boots and enamel, is that after the party is done and you part ways, there is a murky, nebulous realm into which your relationship has transcended. You are no longer strangers, capable of ignoring each other as you stroll through grounds; you are now acquaintances, and each individual has differing and widely varying expectations for their newly-minted buds. Making friends when you’re out can be an incredibly fulfilling experience. Meeting someone while inslopsicated is like skipping all the boring formative years you and your closest friends have shared. Heart-to-hearts proceed almost immediately following introductions, male bonding occurs at an exponential rate, and pretty soon it’s like you’ve been going to school together for 12 years, except your new buddy wasn’t there when you peed you pants at the 4th grade talent show. After a few hours (or a few more drinks, whichever comes first) it’s hard to remember that, until tonight, you had literally never spoken to this person in your life.
anecdotes deftly exchanged, and interactions proceed pleasantly. The next day you might exchange a quick smile, a knowing nod, or a deft handshake. As the days march on, the smiles narrow. The nods come with minimal, harried eye contact. The handshakes cease altogether. Pretty soon, you are actively ignoring a person you recently shared your keys with for the purposes of shotgunning, and you might as well have never met. And that’s if you’re lucky.
But how close are you really? The issue of etiquette rears its ugly, Elizabethan head each time you and one of your new buddies merge paths. The morning after is easy. Names are easily retrieved,
If you aren’t so lucky, you might end up trading pleasantries with someone who doesn’t even recognize you. Now you’re embarrassed, questioning your social skills and wondering if there’s some-
Post-Big Sis Week Depression If you’re finding glitter in place you didn’t know existed, you might be suffering from PBSWD.
thing stuck in your teeth. And even if they do recognize you, what if they’ve forgotten your name? How is that supposed to make you feel? Like shit. That’s how. But even that isn’t the worst-case scenario. No, the worst is if, in your drunken exuberance, you’ve latched onto a real scrub that has been acknowledging you like Ray Lewis greets his pharmacist. If that is the case, we bid you luck, and may the good Lord have mercy on your soul, because you may be in for a much longer relationship than you bargained for. The lesson, as always: never talk to strangers.
oh the weather outside is weather
bartender of the week
Ah yes, bipolar spring weather, we meet again.
Will from Michael’s Bistro would totally be a badass dragon.
contents page 5: Listserv Etiqutte: don’t be that idiot
Questions? Comments? Compliments? Insults? firstname.lastname@example.org
Listserv faux pas is more annoying then getting crabs from a public toilet seat.
page 5: Top 10: Ways to Avoid Getting Handed Something And not like the trust fund and company you wish you were getting from your father.
pages 7: from the streets
say you’re your own country, what color is your flag?
pages 10-11: We’re All Going to Die!!! According to all the apocalyptic movies coming out this summer, that is.
page 12: Drinking game and recipe for disaster Go Drunken Fish and Mom’s Homemade Wasted Pizza. Everything your 6-year-old self would’ve wanted!
page 13: Senior Unaware he has no marketable skills Yeah, but at least he’s funny as shit.
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word of the week Illuminaughty:
A secret society that exists on hundreds of college campuses, they aim to prevent loser freshmen from ever getting laid. “‘If it wasn’t for the Illuminaughty I totally would have slept with a bunch of skanks by now,’ the delusional freshman muttered in disgust.”
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Ways to Avoid Getting Handed Something
Top 10 No one likes feeling obligated to take things being handed out on the sidewalk, especially if it’s a totally free, hilarious newspaper. Here are the best ways to avoid that sticky situation and maintain your moral superiority over anyone stupid enough to spread their wares.
Listserv Etiquette: Don’t Be That Idiot Annie Plotkin wrote this Just like people don’t like finding a floating turd in their coffee, no one likes to open up their email to find their inbox filled with drivel from someone who doesn’t know how to use a listserv. Between personal email vendettas, ridiculous attempts to sell items, and self-righteous proclamations, listserv faux pas can become as annoying as getting crabs from a toilet seat. The Black Sheep has compiled a list of some of the worst types of offenses against mass email propriety and basic tips for basic etiquette, ya filthy animal. The “Let Me Google That For You”: If a modern youth wants to learn something new about a subject that interests them, it’s common for them to turn to one of the abundant search engines that control our brains. That’s why it is officially unacceptable to send out emails asking questions that are not specific to your audience. Asking about sightseeing? Look at your destination’s website. Curious about the ingredients in eggs Florentine? Google that bitch. Eager to know what the benefits of imbibing human blood are? Reconsider your life choices. Don’t crowdsource them. And don’t clog up the listserv. The Forceful Reply-All: The way UVa’s mail system is set up, one has to make a conscious choice whether one wants to reply all to an email or keep it to their intended reader. Thankfully, this feature has flown right over the heads of the inattentive and deranged, which then allows us to watch them as they carry on a conversation that we want no part of as we receive email after email. It does, however, allow said inattentive twats to reveal themselves to the general public and open themselves up to ridicule.
The Craigslist: Whether it’s some offensively inconsequential item or something no person in their right mind would purchase via listserv, people have posted such things with the cheerful determination of the ceaselessly irritating. Similar to the “let me Google that for you,” it does take a certain degree of a discerning eye. Is it something someone could feasibly want to purchase? Is it going to gross anybody out? Is this going to reveal your crippling avarice? While trying to sell a textbook is reasonable, trying to sell the rest of your shitty yogurt is not. Try Craigslist, where you could get someone to pay you to watch them eat the rest of your yogurt. But be safe! The Troll: As much as the aforementioned offenses against basic email decency can annoy us, arguably most irritating is the self-righteous person who decides that it is their duty to police the listserv with violent and cranky emails. Yes, we are all annoyed. No, it is not ok for you to channel all of your sexual frustration into emails defaming the perpetrators. Such trolls may take on a serious tone that only increases in seriousness the higher their horse is. Some may take the more mature approach of sending messages that constructively say “SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM SPAM,” using the full range of their vocabulary to express how they feel about being victimized by email douchebags. Just because we have been graced with a platform that forces an audience to read our emails doesn’t mean we should take it and run with it all the way past the valley of the obnoxious into the universe of the demented. Practice safe listserving and we will all be better off.
10.) Cross the street: Simple enough, just make sure you spot the passing-out-offender ahead of time and appropriately switch to the other sidewalk. Don’t worry about cars though, you are immortal on this quest to remain unencumbered. Saunter across slowly, a 38-car pileup or losing your limb to the CAT is worth it. Give me no flyers or give me death! 9.) Seem disturbed from afar: Even if you think people who pass out invitations to pig roasts are robots sent out to ruin your day by filling your hands with miscellaneous promotional items, they aren’t, they’re just as nervous about the interaction as you are. Shaking your head furiously or violent limb flailing can make them nervous enough to skip you or assume that you’re just not in the right demographic for their blind date auction. If you can froth at the mouth or cry on command, do so. Any weird looks from fellow pedestrians are worth it, so long as you don’t need to interact with anyone. 8.) Blow right through: If these idiots had the nerve to try to get between you and your 11 a.m., they deserved to be mowed down. Laugh as their hand-outables scatter across the sidewalk and they begin to weep. Take glee in their misfortune. Remember, as always: they are swine, while you are a brilliant pearl. 7.) Fake them out: Leer at the offender from the moment they try to make eye contact with you, even if it’s a block away. This weird intensity will make them assume you’re ready to take whatever they’re selling or possibly even meet them behind the amphitheater for your own “Quickie for Cancer.” Then, shatter their hopes by breaking eye contact and scream “Nope!” as you march by, proud as a lion that has just vanquished his prey. 6.) Look old: Students aren’t really into inviting responsible adults to their wet t-shirt contests, so try and pile on the years. This one comes especially easy after an all-nighter, so the more disheveled the better. Project an air of wise douchebaggery and continue on with your exciting adult life. 5.) Act absorbed in your phone: A natural tactic for kids of our generation; acting like you are attending your own wedding ceremony via iPhone is a great way to avoid getting stuck with a tiny piece of paper. The perpetrators feel way too nervous about breaking the bond with the cell phone and will retreat in silence. They understand the sanctity of your WiFi-tethered bond. As soon as you pass by they’ll be looking at last night’s mistakes on Facebook too. 4.) Be engrossed in a conversation, preferably in a foreign language: Not only will this make the actual act of distribution awkward and unsuccessful, but it will also remind the person handing things out that they are alone on this mission to promote their activity, and alone in the world. Forever. 3.) Be on a bicycle: Odds are they won’t even make an attempt. And if they do, well, Game of Thrones their asses and give ‘em a good jousting. Like alcoholism, there’s no such thing as assault in college. 2.) Act offended: As soon as one of the minions of “Walk for A Cure” or “Hoos for Humanity” approaches you with their liberal propaganda, espouse your hatred of all things hand-out, including literal hand outs. You’re probably such a dick already that they won’t even bother. Don’t be concerned, though: you still win this interaction based on the simple fact that those who hand things out have forfeited any and all rights. 1.) Act like you don’t have hands: Or actually don’t have hands at all. If you’re faking, it will buy you time as the culprit considers if they actually heard you correctly. If you’re being honest, you already had an excuse before reading this article and you really shouldn’t have bothered. Also, props on holding up this newspaper.
Annie Plotkin and Oliver Cross wrote this
Post-Big Sis Week Depression uva staff wrote this Is your wallet empty? Bank account growing cobwebs? Finding yourself destitute of frat t-shirts? Nothing to eat in your apartment except for leftover cookie dough and Reese’s? Is there paint in your bed and are you finding glitter in places you didn’t know existed? If you answered yes to the majority of these questions, then it is safe to assume that you are a Big facing PBSWD, otherwise defined as Post-Big Sis Week Depression. The culmination of Big Sis Week leaves much to be depressed about. Not only are we devoid the pleasure of spoiling our precious Little, we no longer get to spend the night trying to find a pledge that will deliver a basket at some ungodly hour. Now there’s no need to force a pledge to wake up five hours before class, find a car, and drive to Bodo’s to buy bagels for you and your Little. No longer is there a need to stealthily hide your identity from the newest addition to the fam for an entire week as you spend a plethora of cash to make these few days utterly unforgettable. How sad. This wave of depression is a tower tidal wave of sadness, and the aftermath of the week can be quite unsightly for those who are ignorant of the happenings within the Greek community. During this week of showering first years with gifts, one gets quite used to managing two schedules. Okay so I have politics while she’s in chem…maybe I can get her roommate to let me in so I can decorate her room. Or wait, no I’m the one that has chem…ugh BSW what have you done to me? PBSWD also becomes problematic when you find yourself begging your guy friends. Too many hours of, “Please will you deliver a basket for me and sing to her? I don’t care if you don’t know how to sing. Pleaseeee, I’ll bake you cookies if you do it.” A day in the life of a PBSWD Big is truly frightening. It is standard procedure to wake up with construction paper and rhinestones glued to the late-night bags under your eyes. After you have woken up sans alarm at 7a.m., you scroll through your contacts to text your Little only to find that you have passed numerous first year boys contacts—the inevitable results of bargaining with pledges
Oh the Weather Outside is Weather tbs staff wrote this
to perform the duties of BSW. Ugh, #BSWproblems. By this point you have forgotten how to dress yourself because you gave every sorority and fraternity t-shirt to that little bundle of joy. In accordance with the symptoms of PBSWD you find yourself clad in the only shirt you can find—the one from the rec soccer league when you were seven. Hey, at least it fits well, because breakfast, lunch, snacks, and dinner consist of a few pieces of candy that simply could not be shoved into your little’s basket. Oh, the indulgent life of a Big after BSW. The biggest blow of PBSWD hits when Big Sis Week is finally over and it is time for reveals. Naturally, the entire family strolls down to the corner to eat the traditional BSW revs family meal. As you hold up the group to stop at the ATM, you will realize that, duh, your account is empty…because of that little one over there. Consequently, you trudge back to the group and sit through a meal of water and ice as your sorority relatives chow down on sushi and teriyaki chicken. Nevertheless, you love your Little anyway. That’s what family is for, and let’s face it you’re stuck with them.
UVa students are highly intellectual, but when it comes to dressing for the weather, these Wahoos might as well withdraw their tuition payment and enroll at Tech. The bipolar weather we have faced this year throws students into a whirling conundrum of what to wear, though most choices could be displayed on the next episode of TLC’s What Not to Wear. These flip-flopping climatic conditions leave dorm rooms the likeness of tornado trails, the aftermath of pastel sweaters and neon shorts paradoxically erupting from every drawer. The unfortunate frigid conditions of late perplex Northerners and Southerners alike. The New England student is pissed because he came to Virginia for the warm weather, while the Florida student cannot help but irk her frozen companions as she pesters them to join her in the massive snow ball fight on the Lawn. Today, weather is a simple game of cat and mouse. Temperatures in the 30s and 40s are not acceptable, but what happens when one day good ol’ Mother Nature decides to let Mr. Sun emerge from hiding? All natural order ceases. As the UVa climate creeps into the high 40s and 50s students whip out their bikinis and swim trunks and hit the streets of Cville. A slight exaggeration, but to the student standing at the crosswalk wearing flip-flops and shorts… no, just no. Might as well continue on into traffic if you think that outfit is appropriate. You, in the parka, you think you’re doing much better? Have fun sweating to death on the way to your class in Gilmer. Northface would certainly not approve of this abominable use of
their product. We are students at Mr. Jefferson’s university. We should know better. Students should be entertaining the use of scientific method to solve the seemingly impossible question: what do I wear?!?! The more intellectual Cavaliers start doing background research, archival analysis of what students were wearing at this time over the past several years. They inevitably discover that shorts and flip-flops were the norm, so the same standards of dress must apply even as their legs prickle with goose bumps at the thought of exposing their legs to the biting wind. To test the hypothesis that extensive skin exposure is acceptable for this weather, the intellect assesses the prediction by sporting the look— always keeping it classy with the J.Crew shorts and Rainbow flip-flops. As their legs turn into icicles on their way to McLeod, the conclusion comes to bear: their hypothesis is wrong and they should run home to don sweatpants to avoid looking like an ill-dressed fool. However, there is some other psychological process at work and the fact that students should be able to wear shorts in April convinces the lay student that her too-cool outfit is truly the appropriate attire, even in the face of cold weather. It’s understandable; we all tend to get a little crazy when the warm weather starts to do its walk of shame from winter’s igloo. We’ve been Eskimos for far too long this year, and if one wants to bust out the sleeveless frat tank when it’s 45 degrees outside, enough of this cold weather shit, go for it.
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t n e m t i m m Co ! d e s v Issue Sol
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! ! ! e i d o t g n i o g rewrite A Tale to re e w s n e ick e end of times.” If D d n e e th ession with th s s a b w o r it u , s o e d m n a ti , ake ystem orst of y’re sure to m ive political s , it was the w e s is th e iv d m r; e ti a f m y, o m g t u s lo s e n this techno “It was the b time. the big scree note bitchin’ g n ’d ti e h it , h 3 Pickles, in no s 1 ie r. 0 v 2 D o t, in m a s t c h ie d it ig a C e e our d these of Two the sky with y e us? Look at v in e li r e ie b rr ’t a c n o ty D ol’ kit of days. an and Quinn e living in the d b n l ’l re u B o y y b k n in e Writt you th
Oblivion - April 29th What it’s About: In the distant future, mankind has evacuated Earth after a devastating intergalactic war with a race known as the Scavs. When Jack Harper (Tom Cruise) investigates a fallen spacecraft and its sexy lady pilot on a routine mission to now-devastated Earth, he discovers that humans are still living there. What Oblivion is Saying About Us: “Even if we prevail against super-alien species in the future, it doesn’t mean we can prevail against ourselves.” Why it’s Bullshit: Everyone knows humans are merely entrapments for the immortal, spiritual thetan. And everyone knows that thetans have innumerable past lives and arrived on Earth thousands of years ago to hole up in human bodies. So if Earth is destroyed, the thetans would just leave these physical bodies behind and move on to another world. Unless, of course, the thetan inside Tom Cruise is reliving an experience it had prior to its existence on Earth. Then it all makes sense.
Rapturepalooza May 10th, (Limited) What it’s About: The rapture is unleashed upon earth with a hilarious twist in that the animals talk and the Antichrist (Craig Robinson), is a foul-mouthed party animal. It’s up to two teens to lock the Antichrist up, and save humanity from being sucked into the netherworld. What Rapturepalooza is Saying About Us: “Yo humanity is turning into a bunch of atheist heathens, but like, what if that Bible shit came true LOL?” Why it’s Bullshit: If the rapture is going to be anything like the Bible says it’s going to be, God, or gods, or the Devil, Antichrist, Gilbert Gottfried, or the Four Horsemen are going to rain death upon everyone in one fell swoop. Birds aren’t going to crack jokes and shit on your car, and the Antichrist isn’t going to hang around and shoot the shit with the locals. No pair of awkward teens
are going to team up with the Big Man to lock the Antichrist up, and all of humanity will die a horrible death… except the Christians. Or the Mormons. Or the Phelps family. Or the… well, you get the idea.
Star Trek Into Darkness - May 15th
Epic - May 24th What it’s About: Mary Catherine lives in a lush forest with her father, a professor who studies a group of warriors protecting the forest against evil. One day her father doesn’t come back, and upon going out to find him she finds herself among a group of glowing, falling leaves. After grabbing one she immediately shrinks and encounters the group of warriors her father studied. She is then forced to assist in their war against forces of evil known as the Boggans, while trying to return home.
What it’s About: After being called back home, the crew of the Enterprise finds a seemingly unstoppable force has left the Earth in chaos. Kirk and his crew are tasked with leading a deadly manhunt to capture the party responsible.
What Epic is Saying About Us: “To be saved from the threat of mankind, Mother Nature has to fight.” Why it’s Bullshit: Epic assumes that humans have seen nature circling the toilet bowl and just said “Well, we’ve already done this much damage, so...whatever. Let’s hurry up and get this over with.” No. Humanity recognizes the damage we’ve done. As a result we’ve targeted the behaviors and methods that cause such destruction and worked diligently to slow them down, hoping to reverse them. Think of how far we’ve come in just the last ten years with fuel efficiency and alternative energies, and think of where we’ll be in another ten years. Yes we’ve got a ways to go, but implying that it’s too late – that the world is on the verge of environmental catastrophe – is just silly.
What Star Trek Into Darkness is Saying About Us: “Humanity is destined to destroy itself from within.” Why it’s Bullshit: We’re still here, aren’t we? With over 17,000 nuclear weapons in the world today, if some state power megalomaniac was dead-set on ending it all, he’d just do it. Thing is, mankind is all about self-preservation, and without another habitable planet to
ship off to, dude’s just as fucked as the rest of us. Even if some shitbird did get ahold of a bomb, he could make part of the world uninhabitable, but there’s plenty of room to live in northern Canada, even if no one really wants to while away time there.
After earth - June 7th What it’s About: After a cataclysmic event humans are forced to evacuate Earth. Mother Gaia reverts to a primal state full of lush forests and new nasty baddies that have evolved to kill humans. When Cypher Raige (Will Smith) and his son (Jaden Smith) return 1,000 years later, they find this out the hard way. What After Earth is Saying About Us: “Humanity is the real parasite on this wretched rock!” Why it’s Bullshit: 65 million years ago. 200 million years ago. 250 million years ago. 360 million years ago. 440 million years ago. These are all major extinction events that have occurred on our own planet; shit got fucked up on the oft long before we put emission regulations on the table. That depressing sack of lard who drives three blocks to buy a frozen burrito isn’t helping things, but he’ll be dead in five years. We really need to be worried about whoever keeps lobbing space rocks at us from the Oort Cloud; we’ve had our eye on you, Neil deGrasse Tyson.
Pacific rim JUly 12th
What it’s About: Earth is overcome by a pandemic that sees most of the world’s population turned into zombies. United Nations employee Gerry Lane (Brad Pitt) is enlisted in saving what remains of mankind. What World War Z is Saying About Us: “Even at the height of our society we can’t escape our basest needs.” Why it’s Bullshit: Of course we can. The majority of modern civilization (read: non-crunchy hippies) no longer live in trees. Sure, maybe evolution over millions of years doesn’t count, but every single popular modern-day religion has basic tenents that are all, “Be cool to everyone else, man.” If we couldn’t defy our core instincts we wouldn’t donate that almostspoiled can of beans to the homeless shelter,
we’d eat that shit up. Shit, man’s driving force is survival of his genes by any means necessary, and only lacrosse players find rape an acceptable form of sex these days.
Elysium - August 9th
What it’s About: Enormous monsters arise from a crevice in the Pacific Ocean, killing millions of people and threatening humanity. To combat them, mankind builds enormous robots driven by men tasked with stopping the threat.
What it’s About: In the year 2159 two classes of people exist: the very wealthy who live on a pristine man-made space station called Elysium, and the rest, who live on an overpopulated, ruined Earth. One unlikely hero hopes to bridge the gap between the two.
What Pacific Rim is Saying About Us: “Against an unforeseen and relentless foe, no technology can save man.” Why it’s Bullshit: It’s like Hollywood producers haven’t heard of vaccinations. The Spanish Flu epidemic in 1918 killed 50 million to 100 million people. That was 1-3% of the Earth’s population at the time. Fast forward 90 years, the world’s
World war z June 21st
What Elysium is Saying About Us: “The meek shall inherit the Earth (except it’ll be real shitty because the rich people be rich peopl’n).”
population has tripled, but the 2009 Swine Flu outbreak has killed 16,000 unlucky souls. Hypodermic needles with fluid injections may not be as sexy as stories-tall robots, but they’re just as good at kicking ass.
Why it’s Bullshit: Though modern living standards are better than ever for first-world nations, each day it gets harder and harder for a poor person to engender change. Back in the day of pointy sharp metal sticks all an unhappy peasant had to do was poke the king, then the dude would get head lice and die in six hours.
Modern medicine is basically the video game troll of modern society: Nice leg shot, newb. Poor people ain’t gonna fix shit.
bartender of the week will michael's bistro How long have you been bartending: Two years, one and a half here.
Favorite bar: Stone Brewery beer garden in California
Favorite beer: Anything from Stone Brewery. Now though, Red Nectar.
Best hangover cure: Taking vitamins before bed.
Favorite drink: Sex on the beach. Least favorite drink to make: Mudslide
If you could bartend anywhere, where would it be: New York, bars seem pretty insane.
Who are your worst patrons: Non-tippers.
Guy crush: Gannicus from Sparticus.
Favorite patrons: Other servers or bartenders
Weirdest drink order: Someone ordered a liquid cocaine, but we didn’t have 151, so used Jaeger, Rumple Minze and Goldschager. It tasted like Christmas.
What’s your best drunk story: At the Biltmore. We had a water gun fight. I went to my girlfirend’s house and said, “I’m all wet, I don’t know what to do!” I had a three day hangover.
the drinking game:
If you could be any mythical creature: A dragon. They’re badass. Favorite night of the week: Fridays
recipe for disaster:
Go Drunken Fish
mom’s homemade wasted pizza
While some people love drinking games, others would rather get trashed without having to play by the rules for twenty minutes. Instead of painfully re-explaining the rules for Irish Poker or Circle of Death to all your drunk and dumb partygoers, stick with a game so simple even the most intoxicated drinker can understand.
You have no clue how to really cook. Though your mother has made you countless homemade meals over the years, you still think preheating an oven means getting to it before other male ovens start trying to plow it. This recipe’s both easy and delicious; you can’t go wrong with a big-ass pizza.
What You’ll Need: A deck of cards and some obnoxiously fruity vodka. Number of Players: Four to six players. Level of Intoxication: When done right, by the end you will have forgotten how to play.
What You’ll Need: Two packs of crescent roll dough, a jar of tomato sauce, a massive amount of different types of cheeses, and any pizza toppings you desire (sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms, pineapples, garlic, etc.) Cook Time: About 30 minutes. Fatty Factor: Pizza is a vegetable now, so you’re fine. Let’s Get Baked: - Press the crescent roll dough on the bottom of a pizza pan, stretching out as far as it’ll go. - Bake the dough for about eight minutes on recommended baking heat (probably 400 degrees). - Take the pan out of oven and lower the oven temperature to 200 degrees. - Spread the tomato sauce over the dough. - Load on that cheese until you think you have more than enough. Then add more. - Add your momma’s favorite toppings to the pie and throw it in the oven again until the cheese melts. - Serve your mother the homemade pizza with a smile and a kiss.
How to Play - Give each player a shot glass and keep the bottle of vodka in the middle of the table. - Take one shot before the game begins. - Pass out five cards to each player and place the remaining cards in the middle, face down. - The point of the game is to get as many matches as possible, just like regular Go Fish. After each player looks at their cards and sets aside their matches, the game begins! - If a player is only left with one card after pairing up their matches they may take two more cards from the middle. - The dealer starts the game by asking another player for a card (“Mary, do you have a 5?”) The player must surrender the card the dealer asks for and take half a shot. - If the player does not have the card they must shout, “Fuck you, fish!” The dealer must take a half shot and a card from the middle. - The process is repeated for every player until everyone uses up his or her cards. The Game Ends When: All the cards are used up. Count up your matches to see who has the most.
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When you’re done with this, be sure to take a pic for posterity. Just wait until the sun’s up before sending it to dear ole’ mom.
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senior unaware he has no marketable skills tbs staff wrote this “I’m thinking I might as well put a down payment on a house now. Why wait? I can put it on my mom’s credit card, and I’ll make enough money in like five months to pay it off completely. Can you imagine how embarrassing it’d be if the fellas at Microsoft found out the new guy was living in some tiny-ass luxury apartment?” senior Chris Gerblanski laughed and shook his head. “No way. ‘Have the house for the job you want,’ that’s what Trump said. Or what he would say, if he was as smart of a business guy as I am.” Chris, like so many graduating seniors, hasn’t begun to accept the reality that he doesn’t offer anything any employer would ever want. “I saw my ex Becky waiting tables at Olive Garden the other day. Hahaha, what a stupid bitch! Can’t she see how degrading that is?” Becky graduated at the top of her class with a degree in speech pathology, makes roughly $30 an hour, and spends almost all of her free time sending in applications and resumes. “All the big Fortune 300 guys are gonna look at her and think ‘here’s some chick who just wants to make an easy buck and doesn’t follow her dreams.’ And then they’ll look at my resume and be all like ‘now here’s a guy who doesn’t settle for no bullshit.’” Chris proudly mentioned he’d never had a job, because he’s saving himself for “the one.” “Read the Bible, man, that’s how God wants it to be.” While he added “businessy” clip-art to all the blank space on his MS Word resume, Chris told us about his qualifications and life achievements. “Look at all this, man. Work experience: None. I got a full tank of gas, baby, unlike all these other overworked burnouts. “Philanthropy: I’m always down to give food to the hobos, as long as it’s after 2 on a Saturday and I’m not too hung over and nothing cool is going on. Oh, and I made that red equals sign my profile picture, and I always almost give a dollar to the diabetes-for-kids thing at the Walgreens checkout.”
“Other skills: I’m funny as shit. The other day I saw this fatty, and I was like ‘hey, fatty!’ and she looked over and I pretended I was eating a big thing of ice cream. I’m totally down to be the office Jim. And my brain is like a steel trap, man, I remember everything I learned in school. All that stuff about inventory, factories, selling stuff, and uhhhh...ahhh, what’s the other thing... oh yeah, accountanting! If there’s a problem and they come to me all like ‘Chris, we need to know how many race cars to buy,’ I’ll be like ‘we need enough supply to meet the demand.’ Boom, that’s business.” Unfortunately, Chris is completely unaware that he’s missing 15 credit hours and still has to retake four classes before he can graduate. But instead of working on his final projects, he’s been spending his time researching ways to avoid random drug tests. “I’m pretty sure I can just pee through some cotton balls. It might not work for everybody, but I smoke so much fine sticky-ass dope-ass chronic weed that the pot molecules are definitely big enough to get stuck in them.”
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