50 Shades of Purple, Chapter Two: The Battle for the Keg

“At first I was like, ‘You know, it might not be such a great idea to go skinny dipping in the Amazon with a bottle of Patron and the entire San Diego Chargers Charger Girls squad,’ but then I was just like, ‘YOLO.'”
-Morton O. Schapiro

Don’t worry, the sex scene’s coming soon.

It’s a Monday evening, and my roommates are pregaming the pregame for the Keg. I’ve had a pretty stressful day in Journalism 301, filled with lots of hard-hitting pestering of innocent yuppies reporting for my enterprise story, and it’s time for me to kick back and relax. I pop a bottle of Peach Andre and my night has begun.

“How was your interview with Ross Packingham?” asks Beverly Brooke, my roommate and consummate frenemy.

“Intriguing. There’s something secretive about him that I can’t figure out. Is it true he once had a threesome with a Theta and Willie the Wildcat in the library stacks?”

“I heard it was with Stephen Colbert and two theater majors on South Beach while Andrew Bird played in the background,” Beave answers, “But that’s just what I read once on College ACB.”

We finish off our bottles of Andre while watching Say Yes to the Dress and head over to Alpha Delta for the true pregame. The second we step into the basement, our senses are assaulted by skunked beer, bros in tank-tops, and Katy Perry. Lots of Katy Perry.

“WOOOOOOOOOO” shouts Beave as “Teenage Dream” comes on, and immediately begs a frat brother who looks suspiciously similar to an Asian Nic Cage (and almost as belligerent) to let her take a beer pong celeb shot.

I leave to get myself a drink. I pour myself some Mohawk vodka into a solo cup of Busch Light, which I affectionately dub ‘The Bobb,’ because the drink’s always a party and smells like piss.

The Alpha Delta brothers are getting rowdy. Some jackass tries to hit on me by asking which Vice President I’m most sexually attracted to, only to leave the next moment muttering to himself about the similarities between House Republicans and gonorrhea.

“KEG! KEG! KEG!” The Alpha Delta brothers shout. I down my drink and steel myself for the heinous that is to come.

————————————–

HE’S HERE! OMIGOD HE’S HERE!!!

It takes me a little while to recognize the man before my eyes, but after I adjust to the hedonism around me and get over the brief torrent of terror that shot through me as the Keg bouncer took an additional five seconds to ensure that I truly am the 25-year-old Beyonce Lovato from Anchorage, Alaska that my ID said I was, I realize that I really am beholding the elusive Ross Packingham, HERE, in the flesh, at the Keg!

Gorgeous as all hell and with a gleam in his eye, Packingham is freaking the night away with some co-ed like he’s Channing Tatum on ecstasy.

“Carla!” He shouts, “Carla Rossi! Over here!” He’s beckoning me over to join him and his slam-piece on the dance floor, and I head his way.

And then, with a tremendous blast, the door of the Keg comes crashing down. A dark, shrouded figure looms large in the doorway. For a moment everything stops, douchebags freeze mid-thrust where they were dancing, and even that one townie playing pool turns to look. The only sound is that of Ludacris’ verse on “Baby” as Mayor Tisdahl, clad in combat boots, night-vision goggles, and a James Taylor t-shirt, fully armed with a crowbar and flanked by a cadre of Evanston cops, steps into the neon light of the Coors Light sign.

“My sources tell me that there’s been underage drinking in this establishment,” Mayor Tisdahl growls, tossing the disemboweled corpse of an engineer into the stunned crowd. “You can thank this snitch here. Now I’m going to shut this motherfucker down once and for all.”

All hell breaks loose as Elizabeth Tisdahl and her police posse attack.

Intoxicated and sweaty bodies frantically jostle with one another (not unlike the Keg on a normal Monday night) as Tisdahl brutally swings her crowbar with reckless abandon at poor defenseless English majors and ETHS seniors while the cops gleefully cite students for underage drinking by the score.

“That’s for yacking on the Evanston Post Office!” screams Tisdahl as she brains a Comm Studies student with her crowbar as he tries to scuttle up a stripper pole.

“And this will teach you to holler about blowjobs on MY streets!” she adds, sucker-punching a Tri Delt like she’s Michael Barrett squaring off against A.J.

“Say blowjob one more time. I FUCKING DARE YOU!”

I can’t bear the sight of her pile-driving two foreign students through a window, and quickly duck under a booth and pray that God will save me, or at least turn off the Bieber that’s still playing if I am to be summarily executed by Mayor Tisdahl in this den of debauchery.

The Keg has all but cleared out as I cower in fear, watching Tisdahl and her cops methodically pour big cups of Bud Light and handles of Svedka and Wild Turkey all over the Keg’s walls and floors.

Tisdahl shoulders her crowbar and lights a cigarette. Turning with a menacing gait, she addresses the few remaining students.

“Based on what I see here, I think that the Keg has some grave public safety concerns. I’m revoking the Keg’s license,” she flips her cigarette onto the booze-soaked floor, “Permanently.”

The flames erupt immediately, burning away years of sin and memories. Students scream, and Tisdahl laughs, but just as she turns to leave a gallant figure, wearing nothing but an enormous purple cape, bursts through the Keg’s window riding on the back of a dashing wildcat.

“MORTY SCHAPIRO!” everybody cheers as the lionhearted president rushes to their defense.

His body is lithe and stately, glistening in the fiery inferno as his beard bristles with the white-hot intensity of a hundred thousand Pat Fitzgeralds.

“Oh no you don’t, Tisdahl!” cries Morty, slapping the Mayor back with his massive appendage. More cheers from the students. Morty rips off a stripper pole to serve as his quarterstaff (he already has a full staff down below).

“I’m going to give you the Chet Haze treatment tonight, baby,” shouts Morty. “You’ll be white and purple when I’m done with you.”

Then Morty sets to work, fighting off cops left and right with the help of his trusty wildcat. Those police officers who are too foolish not to run away suffer the awful fate of his beard, and Morty and his steed finish them off faster than the NCAA finishing off Northwestern’s March Madness dreams.

Yet somehow in all the confusion, Mayor Tisdahl managed to escape, cursing Morty and swearing that her revenge is nigh. Few seemed to care, however, as Morty ripped open a fire hydrant with his bare hands, soused the Keg’s raging flames, and turned the club into an all-night slip-and-slide.

“Come here,” a voice says gruffly. I turn with shock and look at the man gripping my hand. It’s Packingham. “This way.”

He leads me to the Popcorn machine, raps it three times with his knuckles, opens up the top, and helps me inside. “Follow me,” Ross says, pushing a button and revealing a secret passageway that travels out of the popcorn machine and leads to a mysterious tunnel. I follow, obediently, trusting Ross completely.

“I hereby declare the Keg re-instated!” bellows the victorious, and still mostly-nude, Morty. “I wish the Keg luck with their newly instated Lifetime License to Rage!”

I can barely hear the cheers as I go deeper and deeper down the tunnel, guided only by the mysterious Ross Packingham.

To be continued

Chapter one of 50 Shades of Purple can be found HERE.

7 Movies That (sadly) Never Came to Fruition

As everybody knows, Hollywood is a restless hotbed of individual creativity. Unfortunately, some of the works of genius created by screenwriters never get turned into movies, a tragedy of the highest proportions. After extensive research, we have recently unearthed seven different scripts for movies that never quite made it to the box office, even though they totally should have.

7. Soul Patch

"That's the last flavor your chin will ever savor"

Apache Indian Harry Smoothface, tormented by the hair-owing realities of the modern world, finally has had enough. In order to wreak his revenge on American society (specifically targeting jazz musicians and TAs), Smoothface brutally scalps the soul patches from every victim he encounters. Starring Will Sampson (Chief Bromden from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest), this movie would totally have grabbed you by the hair on your chinny-chin-chin. Screenplay written by Dan Wonk and Calvin Streit, the same creative masterminds behind the thriller Death Perception, an action movie about the adventures of a one-eyed hitman for the mafia. Also keep a look out for Soul Patch‘s sequel, Soul Patch 2: Back on the Patch.

6. Casablumpkin

"I'll make it easier for you. Go ahead and shoot. You'll be doing me a favor."

1 man. 1 consenting woman. 1 toilet. What better way to start the beginning of a beautiful friendship? Set for filming in the early 50s, the thriller Casablumpkin combined action and romance to have you on the edge of your seat all night.

5. PROFESSOR BAILEY or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Fucksaw
Kubrick’s dark comedy exploring the absurd circumstances leading up to that catastrophic event. Set in black and white, the film would star comedic icon Peter Sellers, who would play the roles of Professor Bailey, President Schapiro, Faith Kroll, appalled student #2, Sean Lavery, and the drilldo. Unfortunately, Kubrick decided at the last minute that Professor Bailey wasn’t nearly twisted enough, and proceeded to make the lighthearted romp A Clockwork Orange instead.

"Hell is other people."

4. Crime and Punishment
Production for this Michael Bay film, starring Mark Wahlberg as an impoverished BU student and Matt Damon as a corrupt Boston Cop, had nearly began until Bay found out that the script had already been written by some Russian asshole. Unfazed, Bay is reportedly in talks with French screenwriter Sartre for the naming rights to his next blockbuster film, No Exit, a film starring Mickey Rourke, Sylvester Stallone, and Bruce Willis as three wrongfully convicted felons trying to escape the Louisiana prison “L’enfer.”

Don't fuck with this suffragist

3. Breaking Baaaaaaaad
Smart and sexy international spy Frances Willard must infiltrate the stronghold of the evil Shepard Residential College and foil their nefarious plot for campus-wide domination. Guest starring Master Morson, Eleanor, CSOs Patrick and Joel, Katia Bowers, Taiyo Sogawa, Gabe Bergado, and Katie Chilton as Willard’s hearty gang of affable misfits who transform into one cohesive unit over the course of the film.

2. The Room II: Revenge of Johnny
Johnny’s ghost returns to San Francisco to torment all those who wronged him during his lifetime. Lisa is attacked with animated spoons, that one random drug dealer is brought to justice, and Mark learns football. The sequel died in pre-production due to concerns voiced by writer, director, producer, and main actor Tommy Wiseau that the plot was “too straightforward and logical.”

This flag means so much to so many people

1. Alpha Delta
Acclaimed director Alexander Waldman’s planned documentary delves into the layers of mystery surrounding the world’s most prestigious frority, in an attempt to determine how it evolved from a loose coalition of Northwestern friends into a social group that places its members in some of the most high-profile positions around the world. Learn more about its shadowy founders and leaders, and be shocked by the revelation of which contemporary figures belong to this badass institution (including a Congressman caught in the throes of a sex scandal, 3 New York Knicks cheerleaders, a professor at Harvard, 2 convicted art thiefs, and one People’s Sexiest Man 3 times running).

Sherman Ave’s One Month Anniversary!

Unfortunately, stripper cake not included.

It is with immense satisfaction and joy that we announce the one month anniversary of the venerably estimable, nay TOTALLY KICKASS, website Sherman Ave! Ever since our first post (a review of the latest single from hip-hop duo Alpha Delta, which helped launch the group into international popularity) was first published around 5 in the morning on January 25th, it has been our proud duty and pleasure to provide our readers with only the highest quality of reporting on the culture and shenanigans of the Evanston and Chicagoland area. We thank you, our loyal readers, for making us who we are today: the 4th most reviled news source on campus.

In blog years, one month is approximately 18 human years. Therefore, we have decided to celebrate our one month anniversary in typical teenage fashion. First comes the traditional bickering with parents. In a display of our need to exert our own individualism and adolescent rage at our nurturing and well-intentioned parents, our relationship with North by Northwestern and The Daily Northwestern will slowly devolve into incessant shouting matches, until we eventually storm out and get a regrettable lower back tattoo after falling into the dangerous “blog crowd.” After our familial situation deteriorates, there won’t be anybody or anything stopping us from the self-destructive behavior most young blogs experience when first stepping out on their own.

Not that certain Sherman Ave editors can name all 195 countries thanks to sporcle, or anything...

The next step in our celebration of our one month anniversary is the common teenage phenomenon of dangerous abuse of alcohol and other drugs. After being peer-to-peer-pressured by the “cool” websites like Gawker or Facebook, we’ll try and distance ourselves from our once dear, but now hopelessly lame, website-friends like Sporcle or Stumbleupon by drinking obscene amounts of liquor. This will unfortunately lead to the alienation of many of our closest friends, including Her Campus after a particular poor attempt to hit on our secret blog crush, and maybe even the loss of our bloginity to the interweb tramp CollegeACB.

Where would this man be without us!?

Teenage angst asides, looking back on this past month, we feel that our humble blog has accomplished a hell of a lot. A positive write-up from our venerable website can do wonders for a career, and we’ve broke some of the hottest celebrities over the past month. Hip hop duo Alpha Delta never would have exploded onto the national scene without our glowing review, and it is doubtful that American pop culture ever would have experienced the impact of Kanye’s “All of the Lights” video without the attention it garnered on our humble pages. We have also transformed President Schapiro from a little-known college president to a dearly beloved demigod, all thanks to our extensive profile of the living legend himself.

But our influence extends much further than mere pop culture. We have fought endlessly against the repressive Evanston government, eventually ending the evil Brothel Law, decriminalizing bowling and skipping, and working endlessly to slowly return fun, happiness, and joy to the northern suburbs. Politically, we have covertly aided Rahm Emanuel’s miraculous election against all odds (although we can neither confirm nor deny suspicions that we are also the authors of the @MayorEmanuel twitter feed), toppled repressive governments throughout the Middle East (and American Midwest) with our flaming rhetoric, all but insured a Palin/Bachmann victory in 2012, and wielded more influence over the Willard Exec Board elections than a power-hungry and depraved CA exerts over innocent and amiable freshman.

What is most important to remember, however, is that for the past month, we have selflessly shared our profound wisdom and taste for the Chicago area, free of charge. We shudder to think of where we would be as a society had wearing tights as pants gone out of fashion, or if the term “Tagalongs” became the accepted name for the impeccably American “Peanut Butter Patty.” Without us, women might never have left the kitchen to edit Wikipedia, Americans would still remain woefully ignorant of the rising phenomenon of Wombinations, and nobody would know the extent of how freaking hilarious Chenny Ng is.

Prepare yourselves, and let Sherman Ave take you there

But there is still so much more left to do! As the hottest blog in the 60201 zipcode for a month running, we take our duty to our readers quite seriously. Expect to be inundated with even more killer satire, features, and reviews. We also intend to completely infiltrate ASG by next quarter, establish a secret society that practices voodoo sexual rites in the steam tunnels, and maybe even one day Stumbleupon ourselves during Econ lecture. These are high goals to set for ourselves, but after one month of raging success, we feel like now’s the time to ratchet up our game to the next level. Who knows, maybe one day we’ll even post regularly!? Only time will tell.

Your weekly DWOMBOS (Daily Word Combinations)

There’s a new trend sweeping the nation, moving faster than the Democratic senators fleeing from Wisconsin.

"Douchey Governor" = Douchenor

This phenomenon is known affectionately by its proponents as Wombinations. Or, for those not in the know, word combinations: the grammatical practice of saving syllables, commonly used since at least fifth grade, when most likely, like I did, you heard the word “fugly” for the first time. Or the word “brunch.” Anyway, why bother saying two words when you can wittily combine them into one?

I’m a huge fan of wombinations in general. You’re at a party, you whip one out, and you instantly become a hero. Someone used the word “snigloo” to refer to a snow igloo after that blizzard, and I’m pretty sure I Facebook friended them the next day.

Sure, combining two words into one for every single sentence you utter may seem a little excessive (lexcessive), but why use two words (twords) when one will suffice (wuffice?)

To provide some inspiration for you amateur wombinators out there, I graciously have provided you with examples from my week. Hopefully this gets those brains churning and keeps you sounding fly!

My Dwombos: (Daily word combo. Yes, that’s three words in one. GET ON MY LEVEL.)

16 ounces worth of poor decisions

Saturday, February 19: Fralcohol.
Also can be shortened to fralch, for people experienced in the art of wombinating. This is an extremely complex wombination. The term technically refers to free alchohol, but also can be construed as “frat alcohol.” This refers to the fact that girls can get free alcohol at most frats. Thanks for helping shitshows everywhere, brothers! You have my shining approval.

Sunday, February 20: Fill.
I’m aware that fill is already a word, but in this case, it stands for “fucking kill.” It’s best used when really frustrated with someone, and in conjunction with something like “with pudding” i.e; I will FILL YOU WITH PUDDING. (I will fucking kill you with pudding.)

Monday, February 21: Kake.
No, I didn’t misspell cake. This is for a “Keg mistake.” Somewhat self-explanatory. The Keg of Evanston is infamous for these sorts of shenanigans. Many mistakes have occurred on the dance floor, or on the poles surrounding the dance floor…

Tuesday, February 22: Graight. (pronounced great!)
When I can’t tell if someone is gay or straight, they are “graight!” Oftentimes, they are also great. It works on a variety of levels.

The only plausible excuse to justify your purchase of the entire Phish discography

Wednesday, February 23: Hightunes.
Albums you accidentally buy on iTunes while under an inebriated state of mind, or songs that are freaking incredible to listen to while in the same state. Examples include “What Would I Want? Sky!” by Animal Collective … does anyone listen to Animal Collective as sobunes (sober tunes???)

Thursday, February 24: Winner.
As a Willard resident, I eat dinner at Willard EXTREMELY OFTEN. Or every night. No, it never gets old. Made to order entrees with a buzzer?!?! How much more awesome can you get?! PLUS that chef who told me he is going to force me to eat 30 pounds of baked cinnamon apples because I order them so often?! Anyway, back to the point. When you eat a Willard dinner, you are eating a winner. Thus, you are a winner because you are what you eat. Unstoppable logic.

Friday, February 25: Chaze.
In honor of Chet Haze’s new mixtape, I give you a way to sound knowledgeable about this up-and-coming STAR, Chet Haze. Never refer to him with two words again! (A bonus: freshman freak hoe = froe. You’re welcome)

With this guide and glimpse into some common scenarios in which wombinations are appropriate, I hope you will continue to dwombo it up. Make me a happy camper, kids — hamper.

by Alison Decker

Review: Alpha Delta’s new single “Harry Fucking Potter”

Thanks to the increased notoriety of sophomore Chet Hanks (perhaps the only current popular musician who has experienced less hardship than Drake) and his debut song “White and Purple (Northwestern Remix),” Frat Rap at Northwestern is at an all time high. But no newcomer has stirred up the Evanston Hip Hop scene quite as much as the up-and-coming rap syndicate Alpha Delta.

The Hip Hop duo responsible for tearing up the charts like Sectumsempra

Despite their underground status, the members of the acclaimed Frorority Alpha Delta have cast quite the spell on students at Northwestern University with their recently released single “Harry Fucking Potter.” Featuring Alison “Tape Deck” Decker on vocals and produced by Katie “DJ Klepto” Chilton, the song chronicles the true life of Harry Potter and his peers at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry while infringing on numerous copy right laws. Lines like “With a scar on your head / and a wand in your hand / you’re gonna show the Wizarding world how to be in demand,” provide the expected praise for a magical hero beloved by all, but the Alpha Delts also aren’t afraid to go deeper and penetrate into the more twisted and dark world of life as a tormented hero.

“Harry Potter, well his parents were dead / and sometimes that messed up his head / He saw them in the mirror of Erised / When Ron looked in he just wanted to beat up Fred / Hermione probably just wanted to give Ron head,” spits Decker, whose flowing yet frenetic lines mesh with Chilton’s soaring orchestral loops to reproduce the sense of adolescent joy and dread found throughout the Potter saga. What the production value lacks, Decker and Chilton clearly make up for with their overpowering charisma, until the listener has no choice but to fall in love with Alpha Delta’s creation as if they’ve just imbibed Amortentia (the most powerful love potion in the world, according to harrypotter.wikia.com).

Although the success of “Harry Fucking Potter” has many fans clamoring for more, the members of Alpha Delta have been surprisingly silent about any future plans. Rumors have swirled that a mix tape is in the works, and will be dropped around mid-March, but due to the lack of public performances, many fans have wondered if the two musical partners have fallen into a creative rut. Whatever the case may be, “Harry Fucking Potter” continues to burn up the charts like a Fiendfyre Curse, hopefully destroying all of Chet Hanks’ discography in its wake.

Overall Rating: If “Harry Fucking Potter” was a Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean, it would probably be Pina Colada. Listen to it here: