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The Black Sheep

fre a-p e...lik enn e g y, t iveake a-p all enn the y, t pen akenie s!

Vol. 5, Issue 11

The College Newspaper That's Actually About College

11/7/13 - 11/13/13

Humpday

on Thursday: The Tale of Throwback Thursday Gone Horribly Wrong BY: Nathan Heintschel VCU freshmen Jack Goff and Willie Stroker thought their simple competition of “Throwback Thursday” oneups were harmless — certainly a competition that wouldn’t lead to either of them dropping out of school. Then Goff and Stroker found themselves in a browser history that just couldn’t be deleted. It all began back during freshmen welcome week. Goff and Stroker were roommates and immediately became friends on every social network known to mankind. The first Thursday after classes started, Stroker posted a picture of himself playing peewee football for his first “#ThrowbackThursday” on his newly minted Instagram account. After seeing Stroker’s post, Goff posted his three-year-old self playing soccer, and tagged his new best friend Stroker. The following Thursday, Goff tagged Stroker in a picture of Goff’s ceremonial circumcision. Stroker was flabbergasted as to how he didn’t know Goff was Jewish, let alone how Goff could one up with such an early picture. However, after much controversy and confirmation from the rabbi who performed the ceremony, it was determined that Goff’s circumcision photos were accurate. The weekend after Goff’s infamous post, Stroker struck gold in an old photo album his parents’ attic. On Thursday, Stroker posted a picture of himself mid-birth. The picture of Stroker’s bloody head crowning in his mother’s vagina was enough to lose all of his Instagram followers except for Goff, who would not be out-#ThrowbackThursdayed. Alas, Stroker was not prepared for Goff’s weekend find. Two minutes after the birth picture, Stroker got a notification that he’d been tagged in Goff’s newest picture. Stroker clicked the notification to find that Goff had uploaded a picture of his ultrasound when Goff’s mother was five weeks pregnant. Stroker left for fall break in a fit of rage, a rage that was only fueled when the earliest ultrasound photo he found in his parents’ house was of Stroker’s mother at three months pregnant. Stroker knew he couldn’t lose, and he tore apart the house looking for the haymaker post, the most throwback picture he could find that would ultimately crown him king of the dorm. It was in this rage that Stroker found a box buried in his parents closet that read “home movies.” In the box, Stroker found a VHS tape with the label that read “June 28, 1994.”

Stroker was surprised to find a VHS player still in his house but quickly popped it in the VCR anyway. The video had those weird VHS-lines running across the screen and the sound was muffled. Right when Stroker was about to give up hope, the video regained clarity. Sitting alone in his basement, Stoker was now watching his father pile drive his mother National Geographic style. His mother was screaming, “BREED ME!” and Stroker’s father acquiesced to her request. As he sat, face aglow by the old TV, the sight of his mom getting peen punched was enough to make Stroker want to rip out his eyes. All of the sudden Stroker came to the realization that June 28, 1994 was exactly nine months before his birth. Stroker was holding the videotape of not only the death of millions of his potential brothers and sisters, but the videotape of his conception. Thursday, November 7th, 2013 was like any other throwback Thursday for Goff; he sat in his 10 a.m. Law & Ethics class and eagerly anticipated Stroker’s concession post. His phone buzzed, and he immediately clicked on the notification from Stroker. However, Goff’s triumph faded to shame as “BREED ME” rang out in the lecture hall. Goff sat in horror as he realized that he not only lost Throwback Thursday, but he was also going to be expelled for watching porn in class. As he had nothing left to lose, he decided to take down his parent porn-watching roommate and reposted Stroker’s conception all over VCU’s social networks. Word spread like wildfire across campus as the class of 2017 learned of Stroker’s home movie, forcing Stroker to withdraw from school as his classmates all assumed he too had a wiener as tiny as his father’s.

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Dear Mass-Emailers, Get Some Friends

Richmond Crime Report: Sidewalk

Marcus Mumford Pursing Dream Job

and Please stop bombarding our inboxes with nonsense, okay!?

In the end, all you can think is, “Screw these Richmond sidewalks.”

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Working in construction sure as hell beats making Grammy-winning albums.


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Ending a rant with an abrupt, short, sudden conveyance of anger aimed towards the person, place or thing disliked. “After going on and on about Tea Party members for a half hour, Thaddeus surprised the crowd with a brief, ‘fuck them’ before exiting the party to smoke a cigarette.

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Freddie Freshman Gets Caught Up in a

Pyramid Scheme By: Bob Rodriguez

Freddie recalled the fond memories of daydreaming while his Introduction to Philosophy professor spouted off about Friedrich Nietzsche being a total bro. It was in that very lecture hall, the one that smelled of Cool Ranch Doritos and mediocrity, where Freddie Freshman naively fell into the pyramid scheme that would destroy the very life he was attempting to create. He regretted ever entering “http://madwork4studentz. com” into his web browser, previously full of happy porn and happy times. They made everything seem so real, so lucrative. “Earn a promotion every five days! Trust us—you’ll be super rich and awesome! Future companies will throw their snatches at you when they see you have experience working with Sucktor Marketing! You know, your resume? The one that’s going to suck forever if you don’t work for us? Do it.” Before Freddie knew how to feel or what to think, he was forking over his last hard-earned $1,100 in cafeteria cash to the woman with a mustache he only knew as “Convincing Knife Lady.” Convincing Knife Lady talked fast and with a bit of a lisp, pressuring Freddie. “Time’s running out,” she’d tell him, “and you’re going to want to buy your knife kit before we hire someone else to take the hundreds of promotions and paychecks we’re prepared to give you depending on your upfront capital investments.” Freddie figured that Convincing Knife Lady had to be a good source for advice on life choices, since she was obviously well into her forties and high up on the Sucktor Marketing ladder, hiring only the best and brightest college students to sell such an expensive product. Soon things took a turn for the worse when Freddie learned he could only sell to people he knew. His family took out a second mortgage to buy Freddie’s knives. “Oh god, here he comes trying to sell us some goddamn knives again,” his friends thought every time Freddie showed up. Mr. Freshman began prostituting himself on the streets like a common hoodrat just to afford food to put on the table so that

Mrs. Freshman and Freddie’s little sister, Pre, could still have some happiness in their lives. Loan sharks began to call Mrs. Freshman day and night, heckling her until she broke down and told the tragic tale of her son becoming a victim of a pyramid scheme. Soon enough Freddie’s mother turned to the juice to comfort her pain, opening every liter of bottom-shelf merlot with her $50 Cutblow corkscrew. Freddie began attending his professors’ office hours in hopes of delivering a quick sales pitch. He had done everything perfectly—he cut a penny in half beautifully, he sawed straight through a soda can with finesse, he pretended to slice his hand open to show how wonderfully safe Cutblow knives are for children—but then something went horribly wrong. He was halfway through his knife juggling routine when the 9-1/2” Polynesian Chef model pierced into his right eye. His family became so desperate upon the arrival of Freddie’s hospital bills that Mr. Freshman turned street walking into family night. Freddie’s professors had been threatening him for months: Either stop soliciting innocent classmates and TAs or fail the class. The lengthy hospital stay put him even further behind, and he was forced to withdraw from the university. Last week we met up with Freddie to find out where he plans to go from here. Working at a Taco Bell Express that’s attached to a Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Pizza Hut, Freddie told us between bites of Double Downs and cheeseburger pizza that all his coworkers affectionately call him “Left Eye.” While Freddie’s dream of becoming the greatest college degree earning puppet master there ever was has faded, he remains hopeful and plans to take this opportunity to get closer to god. “I’m really thinking about getting into Scientology. Those guys seem to have a good thing goin’ on,” he stated, making us question even our own life choices, while wondering where Freddie Freshman will find himself in this crazy pyramid scheme we call life.


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Dear Mass E-mailers,

Get Some Friends By: Kalsey Hanratty We finally find ourselves in that taint of the semester between midterms and finals, a time students decide that it’s quite allright to skip class every once in a while, and take a breather from all the hard work they’ve done thus far. In turn, this is also the time when your inbox floods with the cries of desperation and sad excuses of your fellow students, as they ask for notes and homework and just flat out irritate the shit out of you. The Black Sheep presents you with a quick guide on how to respond to the many different types of mass emails. It’s always important to not be a total dickhole about them, just make sure they know that you won’t wipe their ass for them, because nobody likes other people’s poop on their hands. The Formal Email: Hello class, I apologize for taking this time out of your day. I missed class yesterday due to a personal issue and was wondering if someone would mind sending me the notes. Once again, I apologize.

This is probably the first time in two weeks they’ve proofread something they posted online. Minding your P’s and Q’s doesn’t make you any less irritating. Don’t buy into their fauxmannered game, if you respond at all, make sure you scare them away. Make them not want your notes. Your response: Heyyo man, sry bout ur “personal issues” dude. Sounds like a totally gnarly day. Sucks u missed class bro, good luck with getting the notes tho. I can send u mine if u want but lol, like i just doodle dicks all day haha. The “I Hate Mass Emails” Email: Hey guys, sorry about this. I know how much we all hate mass emails; I do too. I just missed class yesterday and have no way of getting the notes and I was hoping someone would let me borrow theirs. I know this is annoying, but I’m sorry. Hey dude, if you hate mass emails... wow, how should we put this...oh yeah...DON’T SEND THEM! That’s like

saying you hate anal before asking your partner to “experiment” because it’s your birthday. If you get a douchedrowned message like this, keep it short and sweet. Your response: I also hate mass emails. Let’s talk about it over coffee tomorrow, your treat. The “I Don’t Ever Do This” E-mail: Hey guys, sorry to bother you. I don’t ever miss class, but I did yesterday and I didn’t get the notes. I was hoping someone would let me borrow the notes? Bet they never double-dip the Tostitos on game day either, pfft. This is an obvious bluff, and we’d bet they’ve got multiple emails set up for this very occasion. Go ahead and bluff them right back. Your response: I don’t ever miss class either, sorry you don’t have the notes, but I’m sure you can gather enough information from all your other notes,

what with you being such a great student and all. And cheer up, it’s Fried Chicken Monday at Shafer! The Question E-mail: Hello guys, I was just curious if we have a test tomorrow? The syllabus says we do, but I wasn’t in last class, so I don’t know if our professor said anything about it? Did we have a review? If so, can someone let me borrow those notes? Reading is fun-damental! For those who had horrible childhoods and didn’t watch those after-school specials, they might need someone to tell them that all of their professors contact info is on the syllabus. But screw em’, don’t tell them shit. If they’d rather take the lazy route and have people spoon feed them the information before doing actual work, go ahead and let them know how important that specific class was. Your response: Bummer you missed class, he went over pretty much every-

thing. It was a really helpful class, like an hour-long full review. You should have been in class. The Over Detailed and Obviously Exaggerated E-mail: Hey guys, I’m sorry about the mass email. I miss class yesterday because my sister got into a car wreck. I had to rush to the hospital at home, which is two hours away, and I got stuck in traffic and it was terrible. It was pouring rain and a really scary and stressful drive home I almost got into a couple accidents myself. My sister is okay, she just has a couple broken ribs and the car is totaled, but I’m just glad she’s okay. I was just wondering if someone would lend

me the notes? Play them the world’s smallest violin. Then shove it up their left nostril. Your response: I love the way you lie. Or for a more dramatic effect, send them the “Love the Way You Lie” music video. So there, you have your simple guide to appropriate answers for those mass e-mailers that make us all want to smack them in the taint, grab them by the hair and drag them around campus screaming “THIS BITCH RIGHT HERE! THIS BITCH SENT ME A MASS EMAIL!”

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Richmond Crime Report: Sidewalks

The

Top

Ten

Foods at 7-Eleven to Satisfy Your Drunchies By: Elena Correa

10.) Flamin’ Hot Cheetos: Even if you don’t like spicy food, you’ll be so drunk you won’t even notice that your mouth now has a sunroof. Hell, you’ll be too fascinated by the French fry texture to care. One drawback is that your puke will be colorful and spicy. Just pretend you’re Lenny Kravitz’s daughter in X-Men: First Class. 9.) 7-Eleven Brand 3-Pack Blueberry Muffins: These muffins are dank! Sweet, sugary, and processed; these little blueberry creatures will have you feeling like you’re biting in to a cloud that leaves your fingers sticky with who knows what. And they’re under a dollar, which means you can stuff your fat, drunk little face with them! 8.) Bacon Egg and Cheese Croissant: These made-to-order sandwiches are perfect for those nights when all you wanna do is forget seeing that cute guy from econ sucking face with that girl in your UNIV class. Who needs men when you’ve got bacon? No one, that’s who. 7.) CHOCOLATE: Holy mother of Hershey, at 7-Eleven they have a whole aisle dedicated to ruining your workout. But let’s be honest, you did that yourself after finishing a whole two 40s earlier. 6.) Big Bite: Who knows how long they’ve been out there, or how many flies have equally enjoyed them, but who cares, they have relish! Load ‘er up, stuff ‘er down, and maybe sneak another one for later. 5.) Chex Mix: This snack is little enough to keep you from getting bubble guts, but varied enough in taste to make you feel like you just ate a four-course meal. And seeing how drunk-eating alone at 7-Eleven has made up our meal for every other day this week, we won’t judge.

By: Kalsey Hanratty So you’re innocently walking down the street on your way to class and maybe you see a friend and wave, maybe you’re texting, or maybe you’re just mulling over what exactly you were talking so much about to that kind of cute kid in your class last night… when all of a sudden, the world around comes crashing down. Everything moves in slow motion as the following scenarios occur: You see a skateboarder coming toward you at full speed, weaving in and out of the student traffic, skimming backpacks and collecting glares from everyone around them. The skateboarder whips by and knocks your shoulder by accident, spinning you around just in time to notice the biker rushing toward you.

“In the end all you can think is, ‘F*** these Richmond sidewalks.’” You become petrified as the space between lessens as the seconds pass. You shut your eyes and feel your heart race as the biker’s hot breath engulfs your face and you’re left in a cloud of Taco Bell that causes your bowels to drop your breakfast from your stomach to your bum. The heart-racing moments pass and you realize you have all your limbs, so you calm down and begin your journey to class once again. You pull out your phone to check the time and feel the pressure against the tip of your shoe. Before you realize what is happening your phone is in

06

the air, your knee has collapsed, and you’re yelling profanities that will not save you from the painful kiss of cement. You hear your phone smash against the sidewalk just as your forearm makes contact and the rest of your body quickly follows. You faintly hear the chorus of “Oh shit!” surround you as your mind fades to black. In the end all you can think is, “Fuck these Richmond sidewalks.”

4.) Chicken Wings: These deliciously crispy so-called “chicken” wings are the perfect things to sink your teeth into as you get in touch with your inner slob. Grab a napkin though, because if not they’ll leave a saucy residue around your lips making the cashier think you got all fancied up for him when you smile and pay. 3.) Powdered Donuts: The great thing about these donuts is that they come in a bag big enough to share, but only if you’re feeling generous. Just make sure you have some milk handy, ‘cuz these donuts can be covered in enough white powder to choke you to death before the hobos get the chance. 2.) Pizza: 7-Eleven sure does pizza right, a slice so good that you’ll be drunkenly boasting to the bums outside “it’s not delivery, it’s DiGiorno.” To which they’ll be saddened, because they have neither an oven to cook Digiorno in, nor a house to get pizza delivered to. You, on the other hand, will be so drunkenly impressed with your “wit” that you’ll be saying that for a good hour afterwards until you finally pass out on your friend’s crusty couch.

We envision a Richmond where our own sidewalks wouldn’t be the worst perpetrators of violent crimes in this city. A places where someone wouldn’t have decided to plant the biggest fucking trees they could find on the side of a city street, and instead would plant “no biking or skateboarding on the sidewalks” signs. Our Richmond sidewalks would prevent drunk pissholes from picking bricks out of our beloved three feet of walking ground that we actually have in this city, and enforce the golden rule of walking on the right side. If we could accomplish those minor goals, maybe then we could all be a little more time conscientious and not bang-a-rang our way to class through the crowds of people who are actually on time for their shit. With the likelihood that your fellow students will enact none of the sensible solutions to the issue that lies at our feet, you should just make sure you’re watching where you’re going when walking the sidewalks of Richmond. You hear all the time of how our sweet city is not safe, but it is not due to the crime rate. Oh no, our sidewalks are what will bring you an untimely death if you’re not careful.

1.) Taquitos: Taquitos, taquitos, taquitos! You might not know what exactly is rolled up in these fried tubes of deliciousness, but holy shit will you want another one. If you’ve never drunkenly stumbled into 7-Eleven demanding two of each flavor, you’ve never lived. Sure you’ll wake up bloated with a disgusting taste of frozen Mexican in your mouth, but that sure as hell won’t prevent you from going again.


Around campus Send us your party pics to pics@theblacksheeponline.com

on the Streets If you could go back in time to exactly 1 year ago today and tell yourself something, what would it be?

Viet, Junior

“I would tell myself not to fall in love.”

hman Regina, Fres

“I would tell myself to hurry up and apply to Columbia and MIT.”

p h o m o re Rebecca, So

“I would tell myself not to eat that burrito last night.”

07


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Every Friday: Doc & The Keynotes

Thur. 11/7

$2 Taco Night Live Music!

SUNDAY:

Happy Hour: Monday – Friday, 4-7pm

Sunday: $1 Tacos

Tuesday-Saturday! Happy Hour: 4:30pm-7pm $2 off Bar Menu, 1/2 off select bottles of wine

Low Tide (4-8): $2 Off Select Apps RVA Pong! Cash prizes! Signups at 9pm

Happy Hour: Monday – Friday, 4-7pm

Happy Hour 4pm-7pm, 2 Tacos for $3, 11 Styles to choose from!

Happy Hour: 4:30pm-7pm $2 off Bar Menu, 1/2 off select bottles of wine

Fri. 11/8

Doc & The Keynotes

Low Tide (4-8): $2 Off Select Apps Live Music & DJs Every Weekend! NO COVER!

No Cover! Live Music at 9:30pm Happy Hour: Monday – Friday, 4-7pm

Happy Hour 4pm-7pm, 2 Tacos for $3, 11 Styles to choose from!

Happy Hour: 4:30pm-7pm $2 off Bar Menu, 1/2 off select bottles of wine

Sat. 11/9

Live Music!

Live Music & DJ’s Every Saturday Night!

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Come in on Sunday for $1 Tacos!

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Pitcher of Bud Lt., Coors Lt. or Miller Lt. AND a Plate of Jumbo Wings for $11.99 We have Sunday Ticket! Every NFL Game, Every Sunday

Check Us Out During the Week for Happy Hour: Monday – Friday, 4-7pm

$1 Tacos!!!

Piano Brunch!

Mon. 11/11

Open Mic Night w/ Stretch & The Elastics 9pm Sign-up, 10pm Start

Low Tide 4-8 pm: $2 OFF Select Apps

Happy Hour: Monday – Friday, 4-7pm

Happy Hour 4pm-7pm, 2 Tacos for $3, 11 Styles to choose from!

Closed

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Salsa Night w/ Dj Steve Greene

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1/2 Price Burger Night! 4-11pm, Dine-in Only Happy Hour: Monday – Friday, 4-7pm

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Happy Hour: 4:30pm-7pm $2 off Bar Menu, 1/2 off select bottles of wine

Wed. 11/13

Live Music!

Low Tide (4-8) $2 Off Select Apps College Night! Show Your ID For Great Specials

Happy Hour: Monday – Friday, 4-7pm

Happy Hour 4pm-7pm, 2 Tacos for $3, 11 Styles to choose from!

Happy Hour: 4:30pm-7pm $2 off Bar Menu, 1/2 off select bottles of wine

Pitcher of Bud Lt., Coors Lt. or Miller Lt. AND a Plate of Jumbo Wings for $11.99 We have Sunday Ticket! Every NFL Game, Every Sunday


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One Month After Band’s Breakup,

Marcus Mumford Pursuing Lifelong Dream of Working in Construction By: benny boy As Marcus Mumford’s shovel plunges into the dirt, which will soon support a brand new Long John Silver’s in Santa Fe, California, he lets out a satisfied sigh and realizes that he has finally made it. However, the fruits of success were not easily attained for young Marcus Mumford. Born into a wealthy upbringing by John and Eleanor Mumford, both national leaders of the Vineyard Church of UK and Ireland, Marcus grew up believing that he would never install drywall and plumbing at the professional level. “In the world I grew up in, there simply wasn’t any feasible avenues for a young boy to pursue his passion for bricklaying, roofing, or really any unionized tradesman position,” Mumford said in an interview with Rolling

Stone “Like many of the wealthy and disenchanted undergraduates of King’s College School in Wimbledon, I was forced into a career in melancholic folk-rock by societal and cultural forces beyond my control.” The dream of one day manning his very own backfill tamper or portable grinder on a highway construction site did not leave Mumford’s thoughts as he met future bandmate Ben Lovett at the University of Edinburgh. The two quickly bonded over their mutual interest in water main instillation and backfilling, and fondly remember their many nights spent working on their buffer and silicon carbide wheels when they were supposed to be rehearsing for open mic nights. “We were young and had our whole lives ahead of us. How

could they expect us to write and record acoustic ballads of longing when there were other guys our age performing radon mitigations and foundation repairs?” Dreams of one day joining his boyhood heroes in Building Construction Workers Industrial Union 330 seemed even more distant when Mumford’s debut album Sigh No More became a bestseller, making Mumford and Lovett’s new band Mumford & Sons an international sensation. “They day I found out that Sigh No More hit number 2 on the Billboard 200 was the day I gave up all hope. I cried. I told myself that a real construction worker never cries, not even when an AWWA C-900 PVC pipe falls on his foot, but the feeling that my life was in a downward spiral was overbearing.”

The next three years were the most difficult for Marcus. Increased radio airplay of Sigh No More as well as headlining spots in some of the largest festivals in North America and Europe drove him further away from his dreams of one day owning and operating his own industrial sump pump. “We were playing shows every night, had more women, money and drugs than we knew what to do with, and, to put the icing on the cake, were being called one of the most popular and influential folk-rock artists of our generation. What a slap to the face.” Mumford’s depression led to a violent cycle of alcoholism and anti-depressants. When the band’s sophomore album Babel received a Grammy award for record of the year, Mumford locked himself in his hotel room with a case of whiskey

and his favorite belt sander. “It was a dark period. When Babel became so successful the only thing I could depend on was the liquor. Not even Rusty, my prized soldering iron made me happy anymore. My passion for carpentry and instillation, which had nearly gotten me through the difficult period after Sigh No More, was gone.” It was in September of this year, as bandmate and longtime backhoe loader Ben Lovett said to Rolling Stone, that the time for an intervention had come. “During our spring and summer tour, I noticed that Marcus was beginning to accept his life as a Grammy Awardwinning musician and songwriter. That was when I told him that in twenty years, if he was still playing stadium after stadium of young, screaming fans, coming over to my

hotel room to rehearse new songs, I would kill him. He was sitting on a winning lottery ticket, but was too much of a pussy to cash it in. Which is bullshit, because I’d do anything to have what he had. I’m gonna be a famous musician until the day I die, and I can accept that. But what I couldn’t accept was Marcus wasting his talent for septic tank instillation and repair as a world-class artist. He didn’t owe it to himself, he owed it to me.” Marcus took Lovett’s words to heart, and in late September of this year Mumford & Sons disbanded. If you wish to see Marcus Mumford nowadays, just drive down I-80 in the summer time, he will be there operating a Bosch 11335K 35-Pound 1-1/8-Inch Jack Hammer with a smile across his face.


n o s a e S m l i F l l a F ) r e l i a r t e h (By t to give you the ed id ec d p e e h S ck anksgiving, The Bla Th d n u r you, because we ro fo a t t es h b g s ri rk p o u w g e in iv p ct m dje son ra w, pick whatever a o kn With fall movie sea u yo , n and Brendan st in u ju ... Q st y: o B m t. u x o si b â&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a n re so a a e what these flicks lowdown on this se se to rs ile a tr e th ed really only watch


Delivery Man

Oldboy

Charlie Countryman

The Secret Life of Walter Mitty

Homefront

47 Ronin

Release Date: November 22nd Synopsis: Down ‘n out Blue Collar Jones finds out he has 533 children as a result of a sperm donation mishap. By the Trailer: First, let us clear the air; Vince Vaughn does not mistakenly have sex with one of his daughters, just in case that’s what you were looking to get out of this movie. Nope, he decides what better way to give purpose to his purpose-less life than playing “guardian angel” to the 533 kids that he once ejaculated into a cup. Will he stop being such a down-and-out loser and find true love? Will he marry one or all of the mothers who thrust a turkey baster full of his baby batter into their v-holes? Will the kids all have perfectly solvable problems and not be addicted to sex or beat to death by their meth-addicted, sperm-donation-accepting mothers? Probably, because this is a shitty cookie-cutter Vince Vaughn fish-out-of-water movie. If Owen Wilson doesn’t make an appearance we’ll be shocked. Truer Title: Vince Vaughn Needs Money: Quips! Quips Galore!

Release Date: November 15 Synopsis: After a vision of his dead mother sends Charlie to Bucharest, a death on the flight leads him to fall in love with a woman. By the Trailer: This is a little awkward, but the guy you’re sitting next to on this plane is kind of dead, and not to be too much trouble, but you’re going to have to tell his daughter that he died. No worries though, Charlie, because you’ll fall in love with her during one of the darkest periods of her life, but some worries, bro, because she’s unhappily married to a Romanian gangster and he will just…like, unceremoniously beat the shit out of you if you don’t stay away from her. But dude it’s also like, you’re in love, so keep getting punched in the face, or something. I don’t know, do whatever you want, it seems like you’re not great at making decisions; you keep letting dead people make them for you, which seems like a not-too-great plan to begin with. Truer Title: Death and Punching: A Love Story

Release Date: November 27th Synopsis: A former DEA agent moves his family to a quiet town, where he soon tangles with a local meth druglord. By the Trailer: Oye! It’s me, somehowEnglish DEA agent with a recently-dead wife Jason Statham here to tell you country yokels that them back country meth-smokin’ ways aren’t gonna intimidate me and my daughter who knows karate, because Jesus Christ, have you seen one of my movies before? No siree, Mr. kingpin James “Gator” Franco, I’m not one’a them pencil-pushin’ DEA wimps, I’m here with my shotgun and bad badass karate kicks to get all y’all in line. See, that’s what high-power hardasses like me do, we deal with our emotional issues by moving to some back-country shittown to silently brood until something sets us off; counseling is for wussies. Truer Title: Stereotypes, Guvnah!

Release Date: November 27th Synopsis: Guy gets held captive for twenty years, watches TV, is released, [insert the plot of Taken]. By the Trailer: Joseph Doucett wakes up in a tiny, inconspicuous bedroom and remains there for twenty years… but he doesn’t know why. He may or may not have killed his wife, but judging by how angry he is and because it’s a movie, he probably didn’t. Over the next twenty years he watches a bunch of TV, does some chin-ups, punches the wall a few times, and just gets really really mad about being locked up for so long without reason. Then whoever locked him up lets him out to go find his daughter (who is also being held captive now?), so of course he goes on a CrAzY killing spree. Then he finds his daughter and has sex with her. Just kidding! Or are we?! We are...? But he does have sex with someone! Truer Title: Taken 3: This Time the Dad Gets Taken

Release Date: December 25th Synopsis: Walter Mitty lives his life through daydreams until his job is threatened, sending him on an adventure worthy of the big screen. By the Trailer: Dude, your life kind of sucks. Your job in publishing is coming to an end, your boss is a dick, the girl you like doesn’t even notice you, and even your family thinks you’re a total weirdo. Thank god weirdos do weird things, though, because wow, you’re about to take part in a chain of events that is, like, totally in character for a mild-mannered guy like you. You know what Langston Hughes said, “Life is for the living. Death is for the dead. Let’s just do some completely implausible shit because the girl we like doesn’t like us back.” Truer Title: Unaffordable Adventure

Release Date: December 25th Synopsis: KEANU REEVES IS A PIRATE/ NINJA/JEDI HOLY FUCK. By the Trailer: One “half breed” man is banished and sold into slavery. Then, the people who enslave him look to enslave more people, Keanu’s people. Keanu is the only one (we’re tapping our finger to our nose here, folks) who can prevent this from happening. Ipso facto the side he is fighting on only has an army of 47 and the army he’s fighting against is, like infinite soldiers who are different from his ragtag group of guys. Nope, those guys on the other side don’t have families at home or anything, feel nothing for them. Add in a metric dick-ton of special effects, and this movie is going to have us forgetting about Santa and all his slaves in favor of this Asian-ified super Matrix. Also, dragons. Also also, lightsaber Samurai swords. Truer Title: KEANU REEVES IS A PIRATE/NINJA/JEDI HOLY CRAP!


Bartender of the Week Relationship Status: Single Major: Painting & Printmaking Favorite Drink: Founders Breakfast Stout Favorite Shot: Liquor gets me in trouble Disgusting Drink: Long Island Are you even taking this seriously?: Absolutely! One hundred and ten percent. Do you think that’s an acceptable answer?: Not Applicable. Did you hear what happened to Tina?: I’m sorry…who the fuck is Tina.

Parker of Portrait House

Can you believe we finally solved racism?: Humans are stupid, we have not solved racism. Ok, let me get this straight, you want me to do what, exactly?: Can you repeat the question please? How is this relevant to the conversation?: This conversation is not relevant… 3 snaps. What are we going to do about all this blood?: Drink it, it’s high in iron. Why should people read The Black Sheep?: What is The Black Sheep?

Recipe for disaster

Drinking Game Rule Time

Baconeggs

To be king for the day! To rule the world! To laugh at those under you and to crush your enemy with malice and vigor! Alas, you’re but another faceless drone in this wide, wacky world. Better play a game that makes you the boss. That’ll getcha’ your fix.

“But I don’t want to get up!” your brain cries as your alarm goes off at an unheard of 11:15a.m. It’s like, why even go to class if you’re not going to be well-rested? Ah, but with this all-in-one breakfast bonanza, you’ll replace sullen dread with abject resignation! Huzzah!

What You’ll Need: Beer, plebeians, a deck of cards. Number of Players: As many as you can fetch from your vast kingdom, but we suggest starting with three. Intoxication Level: You’re not the boss of me! How to Play: -All players sit around a table, one person is anointed the dealer. -Each person is dealt one card, face up. -The player with the low card for the round drinks one drink. -If two players are dealt the same card, each one drinks. -Kings are community cards, everyone drinks. -Aces are rule cards. A player dealt an ace makes a rule that is in effect until the deck runs out. -Rules are cumulative within the game, so by the end of a game, there should be four rules in place, for the four aces. -The dealer deals cards through the entire deck. After the cards run out, the deck is passed to the right and the rules are abolished. The Game Ends When: Those you’ve ground under your foot rise up to topple tyranny. Let freedom reign!

download our free app for all the games! 12

Hey, remember Crash Bandicoot?: I’m 36 years old.

Five words to sum up the Neolithic period: Long, hard, slow, sweaty and grinding.

What You’ll Need: Eggs, cheese, bacon bits. Cooking Time: 10 minutes, 8 if your professor counts tardies. Fatty Factor: Guys, it’s protein, not calories, okay? Let’s Get Baked: -Turn a burner on medium-high. -Crack 3 eggs into a bowl. Whisk them until they’re fully mixed. -Place a skillet on the burner, plop the eggs into the skillet. -Use a spatula to continuously move the eggy goodness around the skillet. -One the eggs start to coagulate, stir for, like twenty more seconds, but don’t let them get too hard. -Remove from heat, add 1.3 cup of bacon bits and as much cheese as you can handle. -Fold the cheese and bacon bits into the still-runny eggs as the residual heat from the pan finishes the cooking process. -Season with salt and pepper. Holy shit, eggs are awesome.

nomnomnomnom theblacksheeponline.com


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How to Tell Your Roommate

It’s Not Your Fault He’s Single By: David Zirinsky

The general premise sucks. You come to college, you’re finally an adult, paying for your own Netflix account and doing your own laundry, but you need to share a room with another person, just like you’re at camp. Living with a stranger in close quarters can be annoying, but it’s even worse when your roommate has some deep-seated girl issues. For most students, a roommates’ quirky habits include a strange affinity for My Little Pony, waking you up for 3a.m. yoga, or their obsession with watching porn on the impractically large desktop they brought to college. All off these things are just a drop in the bucket compared to the roommate with lady issues who’ll constantly remind you that he’s single. Everyone’s been single at one point, some longer than others, but he makes it your sad business to know the desperate woes of his love life, though you’d so much rather dedicate your mental energy toward your League of Legends rank. At first, your roommate may have started by just saying, “Hey you should find me a girl tonight,” as if you control the female gender in its entirety. You can’t even stand this guy’s habits, how are you supposed to find a woman that can? What’s worse is he’s always showering your female friends with compliments, but then gets weird when you two politely hint you need the room. And you’re all like, “C’mon, really?!” Now he wants your help. Start by talking about the previous times you’ve brought people over to your room or apartment. You can only bring so many cute single friends over without putting up billboards and giving them free drinks; it’s not your fault that your room-

mate can’t manage to say one sentence to them. Seriously, talking to a girl isn’t like proposing marriage, or signing up for a lifetime membership to the Fruit of the Month Club. Just tell him to get his head out of his ass and say something. Tell him to have the generic name/year/major/favorite-episodeof-Spongebob conversation that you’ve had a hundred times before. And by no means should he complain about who’s brought over, because the girls he’s brought over could be counted on an armless man’s fingers. This can also be a great segue into a conversation about housecleaning (as everyone knows, the ladies love a clean apartment). Guys will do all sorts of things if they think girls will like it. Make him surrender to cleaning up his filthy stuff. Remind him that no one is attracted to bed sheets that haven’t been washed in two months and have the kinds of stains only a lonely man’s bed sheets would know. Let him know that all of the dirty laundry and cheap liquor bottles that he insists he needs as decoration look unsightly to others. When discussing these matters, don’t be afraid to get creative with your phrasing, maybe try an accent or two. It’s also probably best if both of you are away from any blunt objects that can be used as weapons. You know, safety first. Confronting a roommate can be hard, but whether he does or doesn’t clean up his act you’ll begin to establish yourself as the alpha-male of this two man wolf-pack. On that note, The Black Sheep wishes you good luck on a conversation filled with an inordinate amount of uncomfortable eye contact. At least you don’t have to look at his sheets.

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VCU - Issue 11 - 11/7/2013  

VCU - Issue 11 - 11/7/2013

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