Beer and college go together like stealing your mom’s cigarettes and middle school. Therefore, you’ll probably be drinking a lot of it over your college career. You’ll drink it in plastic cups, in bottles, in cans and even out of Brother Stinkfinger’s ass crack. Yes, beer truly is a wonderful beverage but what signals are you sending out to others when you drink it? Could drinking different kinds of beer really affect the way people think of you? Of course it can! Snap judgments based on minor details are as American as it gets (see: racism) so sit back, crack a cold one and learn about how you make a statement with beer.

Brews: Bud Lite, Coors Light, Natty, Bud Ice, Beast.

“Awwwwww YEAH! Check this shit out, dude. I can’t talk long cuz I got some freshman tail waiting up in my room but before I get to hitting that shit I wanted to tell you this fucking hilarious thing I said the other day. So I’m on the way to my Lax game and this chick comes running up to me….HEY! Pledge! Did I just see you blink? Did I? What’s the rule, bitch? That’s right, no blinking for the ENTIRE pledge period. Go bring me a fresh Natty…naked. NOW! Ok, sorry dude, pledgemaster business. What was I saying? Oh yeah, so I’m on the way to my Lax game and this field hockey girl comes up to me and says, “hey, can you hold my stick?†So I go…

Blue Collar

Brews: Bud, Miller, Coors Original.

America. The US of A. Ol’ Glory. I don’t care how ya say it, I love this country an’ I hate anyone who don’t. I never not once said nothin’ bad ‘bout this here land an’ I don’t appreciate those whiny, liberal cry-babies bad mouthin’ our ass-kickin’ president. If it were up to them, they’d elect some towel-head terrorist to run the country. Thank God I got mah gun so I can make dang sure that never comes to pass. Yep, alls I need is mah gun, mah 16oz American-brewed beer and mah dog. Hell, I gotta take a dump, y’all watch my dog for me while I hit the shitter real quick like?


Brews: Hobnob's Dark Ale, Ole Winningtons, Boddingtons, Un-marked Small Brown Bottle.

Bounjour! Oh, there I go speaking in French again. I consider myself a man of refined tastes. Why, just look at this beer I have here. It’s so European and obscure that I almost feel bad lumping it in with tasteless American macrobrews by calling it beer. It’s more than beer though: can you smell the quality of the hops? Can you taste the corn malt derivatives used in the distilling process to take out imperfections? Can you see from the texture that the barley used was twice-roasted over a pit of burning chestnut tree bark? I can. I guess not everybody can know as much about beer as I do, but then again, not everyone has to suffer the unending hell of trying to find quality Belgian/French Kaiser-blends at the local mini-mart. C’est la Vie! Oops, there I go again…


Brews: Mike's Hard Lemonade/Cider/Cranberry etc., Bacardi Breezer.

Hey, HEY, hey. What’s the happy haps? O.M.G., this party is awesome, girlfriend! I’m, like, gonna have the worst hangover from this stuff. It’s, like, super sugary but I’m a total whore for sweets. How would I define myself? I can’t say: artist, dancer, free spirit? Take your pick, big boy, but be gentle…JK, I like it rough. Oh Shit, I just spilled some of my Hard CranAppleCider on my blouse. Oooh fuck, I love this top. I’m going to cry, oh my god this is so embarrassing…breathe….breathe….OK, I’m fine. Listen, stain or no stain, I’m here to have fun, sister, and that’s what I’m about to do. Who’s looking for a body shot partner?! Don’t worry, I shave my happy trail!


Brews: Olde English, Colt45.

Yo son, what up? Whatch’all lookin’ at, fool. Yeah, dat’s right, keep walking, bitch! Sorry dawg, sup? Oh dis? Dis jus’ a little somefin somefin I’m drinkin’ on. Yeah, 40 onces, muthafucka an I aint paid more than two bills fo dis. Well, I daint pay fo it, but if I did, it’d be cheap, son. I be drinkin’ ten of dees muthafuckas a day an I aint never once seen no bitch-ass ho able to handle more than five yo. I gots to keep it real, right? Like my moms always say, “Toodles, ya aint got nothin’ in dis world witout da thing ya love.†Well, I loves me some malt liquor, bitch, so get wit dat. Yo, hold up, my Dads be hittin’ up my cell piece…Hello?…Hi Daddy, how are you?…I’m fine, I’m fine. Me and some of the guys are just getting ready to go out…Ok, I’ll talk to you soon…oh, are you going to put money in my account this weekend?….Thanks Daddy!…Aight, where wuz I at, son?