#BestBootAndRallyStory Call Me Oscar the Grouch
College Life |  Source: N. Leeper

#BestBootAndRallyStory Call Me Oscar the Grouch

Head in a trash can, liver in a body bag.

I've been back home visiting family recently. One night I decided to hit up everybody from high school that I haven't talked to in four years to go to the bar. Naturally.

I pulled up to an Irish pub in my hometown and found some buddies at the bar. We got caught up for a little bit. Someone told an embarrassing story of things I may or may not have done in a branch campus bathroom. It was a good time.

Then somebody said the words that make me cringe just typing them.

"Three tequila shots, please."

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...you sadistic bastard.

Now, don't get me wrong. I never turn down a drink (especially when it comes with a lime and some salt), but I think we have all had run-ins with good ol' Tortilla Tequila.

Sometime she takes people's clothes off. Sometimes she makes people angry. I can tell you one thing for sure; she kicks my ass.

Every. Single. Time.

I take this this shot down and it hits me in the throat like a startled black belt. I licked the salt off my hand and go to bite down on the lime, and it slipped out of my hand at the last second. So now I'm just gagging like a girl trying to give head for the first time. I almost died.

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I have one or two or..seven more drinks after that, and I hear someone say words a little more pleasing than taking shots of lighter fluid.

"Let's play pong."

But this isn't regular water pong you would find at your average party. This is trash can pong, where solo cups and ping pong balls are replaced with trash cans and volleyballs. It's also commonly referred to as a recipe for disaster.

It took about three shots before my partner pulled a Christian Hackenberg and hit someone with a stray volleyball and knocked over his beer. He shot up like a pop tart out the toaster and yelled "HEY! ASSHOLE!"

My partner turns to me and goes "God dammit, do you think I should buy him a drink?"

I should probably mention I can turn into a bit of a dick when I'm drunk. So I fire back, "Nah dude, it's his fault for sitting by the trash can."

Then our buddy Schoolboy Cue Ball (he's losing his hair) came up and told us that if we did not buy that guy a drink, he was going to personally kick both of our asses. We called a time out, and my partner went over to the bar to buy the cheapest beer he could.

When he returned, it was the other team's shot.

You can call it chance, or the force of the universe or karma, but the fact of the matter is some days God smiles at you and other days he gives you the finger.

The girl on the other team shot the ball, and it bounced right off the rim of the trash can to hit me square in the face. My nose starts gushing blood. Her partner tries to pull a fast one on us and shoots before I can even yell out in pain. That ball also bounces off the rim and hits me right in the nads.

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I was blindsided, and the pain pushed me over the edge. I limped over and puked in the one trash can that coincidentally wasn't involved in our little game.

After I picked myself up and cleaned myself off, the other team came over, apologized profusely, and asked if I wanted to finish the game.

I thought of my favorite rapper, Lil Dicky. He recorded his album Professional Rapper while infected with pink eye and asked himself: what would Michael Jordan do?

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He would play through the pink eye.

So I got up and SPANKED that team with my partner and the next three teams that came up to challenge us. We didn't miss a shot.

Baller.

#BestBootAndRallyStory

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College Life |  Source: FlockU, Shutterstock

This Guy Dressed In Trash Bags To Steal A Cash Register

ROBBERS ARE TRASH. (Get it?)

Here's a new one!

A man in New Jersey (of course it was New Jersey) dressed up in a bunch of trash bags and burst into a (thankfully) empty convenience store in order to steal money, and eventually took the whole dang cash register.

No, that wasn't a Mad Lib. It's something that actually happened.

And because we live in the glorious year of 2017, when literally anything you can think of is on the internet for our consumption, there is a spectacular video of Trash Bag Man:

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I have sooooo many questions, comments, and concerns.

1. Sir, did you not realize those trash bags might not make for the most agile outfit ever? There's a reason you're slipping and sliding all over the counter: you're wearing TRASH BAGS.

2. Did he not have enough trash bags while making the outfit? If you'll notice, the one on his torso is black, but the bag on his head (and the ones on his feet) look like the plastic bags you get your takeout in! Sir, if you don't own more than one trash bag, maybe you have bigger fish to fry in your life than stealing money.

3. Why'd you have to make such a mess on your wait out, man? That's just rude. You're already stealing their money, and now you're making a mess they've gotta clean up in the morning. Pretty whack.

4. Just... why? WHY? WHY TO ALL OF IT?!?

5. This video really got me thinking about the man in those trash bags, and his outfit choice.

I think I understand why he wore them: to make it very hard to identify him outside of the store, in the real world, where no one wears trash bags all over town.

However!

What if the guy we're dealing with here is just some random dude who dresses up in the complete wrong outfit for every occasion? Like, he has no sense of appropriate attire at all?

He wears a full baseball uniform (Phillies, because he's from South Jersey) to the dentist's office, for instance, or he wears an inflatable sumo suit to go grocery shopping. He put on a suit jacket made entirely out of lettuce when he went to pick up his dry cleaning and didn't understand the confused looks.

Maybe we're just dealing with a terribly out-of-touch man who wanted to steal some money (stop doing that!) and thought the head-to-toe trash bag look was the most appropriate 'fit he could get off? Makes as much as anything else in this video, right?

In any case, this is my new favorite thing. If you'll excuse me, I have to go see if there are any trash bags left in my apartment...

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College Life |  Source: N. Leeper

#BestBootAndRallyStory: Turnt, Thongs and Tears

It's unfortunate when you have more embarrassing stories than normal ones.

*Spongebob narrator voice*

Ahh, freshman year.

A time to experience college for the first time, meet brand new people, live on your own, and most importantly get absolutely sloshed. Pre-college, I had gotten really drunk and gone to countless parties with my high school friends, but I had never once thrown up or blacked out.

But let me tell ya, you can always count on college to ruin your pristine record.

My freshman hall was really close and would always pregame together. So one night, we were doing what most college students do: blasting music and ripping shots.

College is a time for experimentation, and sometimes that experimentation is absolute pure stupidity. After my friends and I took countless shots we headed out for a frat party. I remember walking into the basement and then... blackout.

But do not fret! The story isn't over just yet!

Black-in: I'm throwing up in the toilet of my hall bathroom. Tears are running down my face. I am hysterically sobbing for some unknown reason. Looking back though, blacking-in to throwing up is pretty unfortunate and perhaps a call for tears. Maybe not full-blown hysteria, but alcohol will have its way with you.

In walks my friend, who looks at me and the conversation transpires as follows:

"Dude, you can't be in here like this"

"Whyyyy noot?"

"You're literally in a thong and nothing else hysterically crying and throwing up, you gotta get dressed."

"You're right....you're a good friend."

I peeled myself off of the tile floor and stumbled nakedly back to my room to clothe myself.

The next morning, I found out that:

1) I had gone up to the same friend in the basement of the party and softly whispered in her ear: "In exactly thirty minutes I'm going to blackout."

2) "Backpacking" is something we were taught to do during orientation, because if our friend is extremely drunk and needs to be put to bed, backpacking prevents them from rolling onto their back and throwing up while laying flat. My friends told me I backpacked myself that night. They walked in and there I was, snoozing away looking like I was ready for a solid study sesh.

3) I was also informed that due to the weight of said backpack, I actually rolled off of the bed and crashed to the ground on top of the metal trash can I had left out for myself. I ended up with a bruised rib.

Classy.

#BestBootAndRallyStory

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College Life |  Source: N. Leeper

#BestBootAndRallyStory Hoedown Throwdown

Australia-style.

Study abroad is for making memories, traveling the world and engaging with a different country's culture.

Many times, people also use it as an excuse to get really, really, really drunk. A lot.

I myself was by no means a party prude, though I do luckily retain most of my memories of Sydney, Australia. I spent a lot of times in bars and clubs, and managed to duck the "tac yak," as the Australian students I lived with called it, or the tactical yak. The boot and rally. You get the drill.

I lived in the Australian equivalent of a dorm (which was actually way more badass than the ones here) with other students, mostly first-year Australian kids. The drinking age there is 18, and these kids were just getting away from home for the first time. Naturally, shit got wild.

The dorm threw what was lovingly referred to as the "Hoedown Throwdown." They really took any chance they got to throw dorm-sponsored parties (I am totally not complaining). It was like a fun parody of the American Wild West, with free drinks!

Not that we didn't provide our own, too.

There was a mechanical bull, some bales of hay, a moon bounce - so many things to endanger the drunken student who we took mad advantage of.

We were also required to start drinking at 7a.m. As in, the RAs woke you up to drink with everybody on your floor. You had a choice, but did you reallllllly?

Let me tell you something about 7a.m. pong - I was way better at it than 1a.m. pong. A lovely night's four-hour rest does you wonders.

As the Aussies like to say, I was pissed (their slang for drunk) by nine. The drinking songs rang out for hours.

"Here's to annoyingvegan, she's true blue, she's a piss-pot through and through, she's a bastard so they say. She tried to go to heaven but she went the other way! She went down, down, down, down, down" and it continues until you crush that drink entirely. It's badass.

Anyways, fast forward a few hours of hanging outside with friends, rolling around on the moonbounce (let's be honest, nobody was jumping) and then it strikes. That creepy-crawly feeling in your stomach. The immediate thought of "Oh, no."

You could probably hold it back, but why not go and get it over with and get back to drinking? It was clearly the responsible decision.

I felt like Solid Snake slinking around for my tac yak, my boot and rally, whatever you want to call it, seeking to go undetected as I returned to the festivities. I ducked behind walls, stealth rolled (not really) and did whatever I could to avoid detection.

It was in that moment that I felt the pang of shame. Was I that weak? I'd always prided myself in almost never blacking out or throwing up, and here I was, a tac yakker of all things trying to hide what I did.

I walked back outside to find my friends. As we sat down to drink together again, random people I never even talked to would stumble by to tell me about their tac yaks. For some reason, Australians love telling you that they just threw up. Like, all of the time.

Wow, I thought. It isn't just me today. That makes me feel so much better about myself as a human being.

I finished my beer and thought a moment as another girl swayed in front of the table, explaining her boot and rally to us. I could relate to her, do the Australian thing like everybody else, clap her on the back and say, "Me too, girl, I just had a quick tac yak earlier."

Instead, I just smiled up at her and at my friends. "Damn, " I said, "That sucks. I would hate yakking today."

#BestBootAndRallyStory


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College Life |  Source: N. Leeper

#BestBootAndRallyStory The Football Game

Tossing the cookies.

Have you ever been nervous for something? A first date? A test you haven't studied much for? Feeling anxious or on edge are all emotions we've experienced at one time or another.

For some, playing in a big game, or participating in sports in general, brings about these feelings. So it's safe to say starting in your first collegiate football game against your biggest school rival would be something to be a little nervous about.

Now usually the best boot-and-rally stories involve alcohol and persevering through the sickness, in hopes of having an incredible night. Well, my story is different.

The moment I woke up, I had butterflies in my stomach. I knew I had to perform well for us to win. I also knew there would be a big crowd in attendance. I was a sophomore and this was my first start. Adding all these factors together, I can admit I was excited and very nervous at the same time.

Fast-forward to the moments before kick-off.

I'm on the sidelines as the National Anthem is about to start. I probably got to the "broad stripes and bright stars" part of the song before I felt it coming. Yes, here comes the boot part of the story.

I sprinted to the nearest trashcan that was conveniently located right in front of all of our cheerleaders. I was too busy going H.A.M to hear the "ohhhhhhhhhhhhh" from the crowd or see the cheerleaders screaming in disgust. Nor did I care. I felt so much better.

After I finished, I looked up and saw everyone staring at me. I wiped my mouth, took a drink of water, strapped on my helmet, and got ready to handle business.

I ended having a pretty decent game and we won so I guess I rallied pretty well, if I do say so myself. My reputation with the cheerleaders, however, was tarnished.

#BestBootAndRallyStory

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College Life |  Source: ebaumsworld.com

Are You A Shitty Housemate? (Quiz)

Dude, can you like take the trash out, ever?

Having a roommate, or several, is inevitable in college. Seriously, it's an easy way to save money and it's also pretty fun.

But, there's always that roommate that no one can stand. You know the type, the person that never remembers to clean the dishes, or invites way too many strange men over at all hours of the night.

Thinking you might be the worst roommate ever, or the best? Take this quiz to find out for sure!