So we're gearing up for a liver-barraging weekend in Michigan with tons of friends we haven't seen since the BG and U of M days, altogether in one place. It promises to not disappoint. Looking back over the years I can quickly remember a ton, or more, stories of Michigan's mischevious activious.
There was that time someone decided to through a toga party and the guys ran out to Jo-Ann Fabrics, (Yes, grown, big, large, and hairy men picking out pink polka dotted fabric by the yard at Jo-Jo's. Together.) to get as much horribly tacky material they could find to dress up in for the night. Tony's had a hard time staying on and covering his most masculine parts, much to the horrific delight of everyone else at the party. It was the first and last time I've ever witnessed public man balls at a party before 10pm.
One of the many times we invaded and crashed a frat party, wherein I was the mole who infiltrated first and then after seeming to blend in with the party, started bringing people through the front door as "my date". And by blend in I mean getting totally plastered, and dancing around like an idiot to Hypnotize. I got about 10 people in that night before some uber-intelligent Sigma Chi figured out my evil plan. Then we all got kicked out and went to Pancheros. Yum-ee.
And the time Mr. G decided to celebrate a winning night of beer pong by face planting in 4 feet of snow, because don't we all need to reconnect with our inner child anyway? But seriously, it took him a few just to get up and moving. And it was only because Pancheros was waiting...
The absolute marathons that always happened the day after the spring game were pretty amazing feats of strength, all around. I remember trying to play a kickoff return in the front yard using a roll of paper towels as the football and Phil absolutely killing himself in his most specialist place when he duffed the ball and landed in the bushes. I laughed until a little pee came out. Sorry, is that offensive?
"Good times. Good people."