“Dude, last Saturday I ate nine pieces of cake and a bag of Doritos. It was insane.”

“Oh yeah? I went down to the bakery with my fake and picked up a whole box of donut holes. The next day I realized how bad that decision was.”

No, Northwestern’s party scene has not degenerated into cupcake parties and late-night bakery runs. But from a health standpoint, each Solo cup of beer downed on a Friday night might as well be a cup full of ice cream or potato chips.

On Dillo Day, for instance, if half the undergraduate student body drinks five beers apiece, they would consume more than two million calories in fewer than 24 hours. The short-term consequences of drinking large amounts of alcohol over a short period of time are obvious. Binge drinking is bad, but this is college, right? Beating up one’s body in preparation for the travails of adulthood is basically why these ivy-covered buildings were erected in the first place. But to shrug off the long-term effects of imbibing the caloric equivalent of two Quad Stackers a couple of times a week — and that’s before even making the 3 a.m. stop at BK — puts at risk one’s future well-being.

The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism defines a binge as “a pattern of drinking alcohol that brings blood alcohol concentration to 0.08 gram-percent or above… This pattern corresponds to consuming five or more drinks [for a male] or four or more drinks [for a female] in about two hours.” They also note that binge drinking is often associated with drinking in large groups.

Binge drinking, with all the extra calories and sugary substances it entails, has been shown to heighten blood pressure, increase the likelihood of liver disease and neurological damage, and cause memory loss and sexual dysfunction later in life. According to Dr. Aaron M. White, a researcher at Duke University, an adolescent’s brain is more susceptible than an adult’s to alcohol’s neurotoxic effects.

But even if self-discipline and forsaking immediate gratification for long-term results haven’t been man’s strong suit since asceticism was all the rage in the fourth century, dietitians say that avoiding alcohol and eating healthily for 48 hours after a heavy drinking session can help reduce the effects of massive consumption on the body.

Fun facts from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention:

• Approximately 92 percent of U.S. adults who drink excessively report binge drinking in the past 30 days.
• Although college students commonly binge drink, 70 percent of binge drinking episodes involve adults over age 25.
• The rate of binge drinking among men is two times the rate among women.
• Binge drinkers are 14 times more likely to report alcohol-impaired driving than non-binge drinkers.
• About 90 percent of the alcohol consumed by those under 21 in the United States are binge drinks.
• About 75 percent of the alcohol consumed by adults in the United States is in the form of binge drinks.
• The proportion of current drinkers that binge drink is highest among 18- to 20-year-olds (51 percent).

How did you get into throwing wine and cheese parties?

I got into wine and cheese parties because I got tired of the usual fundraiser party. Living in my dorm, that’s really all I knew about that year. So I decided to establish my superiority by throwing wine and cheese parties in my room. Soon, other people were walking by and looking enviously at the wine and cheese. Of course, I would deny them the right to participate. It was a status symbol, really.

How often would you throw these parties?

Every Wednesday around 9 or 10 p.m. But once the wine and cheese became free, it was probably a bit more often.

Why did the wine and cheese become free?

The wine and cheese was complimentary because I stole it from the fine establishment known as Whole Foods. The habit started one day when I wanted a Pink Lady Apple and the line was out the door. I just decided to walk right out the door with it — it was like an Oliver Twist apple — and after that I decided I would just steal everything I saw, ever.

Did you eventually get caught?

Yes. It was my friend’s birthday and I wanted to throw a fantastic wine and cheese party. But I got a little greedy — I was a little hubris that day — and didn’t adhere to my strategy that carefully. So on my way out, a security guard stopped me and escorted me into the back room, where chaos ensued.

How did Whole Foods handle the situation?

It was really bizarre. It kind of had the feel of a dark comedy. I didn’t really take the whole thing seriously, and they thought the situation was silly. They only called the police because I had stolen over $100 worth of items. I think it was something like $101.

The manager was shocked, though. He wondered why someone who went to such a nice, expensive university would need to steal food. He asked if I couldn’t afford it and I told him that wasn’t the case — I just enjoyed doing it. So he began to empty my bag and admired the cheese and wine I had stolen. He liked the way I had paired them, the way the cheese complemented the wine. He turned to me and said, “Good taste, poor choices.” If my life were a movie, that’d be the tag line.

How would you recommend other students throw wine and cheese parties?

Purchase it. Don’t steal it. Do research online. I first found cheese that I really liked or wine that I really liked. Then I would go online and figure out what went well with that particular wine or cheese. These days, a lot of wine bottles actually recommend a cheese or a dish that will complement the taste of the wine. I know Whole Foods, World Market and Wine Styles will all give you recommendations if you ask.

Should you always keep wine and cheese parties elitist?

Not necessarily. It would be a great way to unwind with friends on Dillo Day. There are places where you can find really cheap wine. The Big Red Monster is a good one. Black Box actually makes a surprisingly good boxed wine. It’s about $20 and holds around four bottles. EV1 sells both of those.

Would you steal again?

No. I’m not going to risk getting arrested again. I’m actually banned from Whole Foods, but I still go in there sometimes with a hat on, to purchase a few things. I definitely don’t go in there with a bag, though. I don’t want them to single me out from the get-go.

[Clarification: The original article did not disclose that the anonymous source is friends with the writer. North by Northwestern regrets the error.]

Now, you might be thinking, “Ryan, I’ve seen those chrome-domed 50-year-olds at The Keg, and I don’t like them, either.” No, no, that’s not my issue. In fact, I think every bar should have some of those guys. Want a free drink? Just start stroking the braided beard of the guy in the tattered leather jacket.

Really, my main complaint with The Keg is a group of girls that I call “The Watchers.” If you aren’t already too laced-up on those $6 beer pitchers, you might notice these girls standing atop the back tables like drunken giraffes, delicately sipping on their Long Islands while simultaneously trying to pull down their skimpy dresses every time a guy with a braided beard walks by. Yes, like the creepy cat-killing man in This American Life, The Watchers are only interested in one thing: being seen.

There are a few things — the aforementioned giraffes, for one, and perhaps even a few health code violations — that you must ignore altogether if you want to have a good time at The Keg. Sure, the bar can be fun, but why go every week when there is an entire safari of wildlife to be found in the bars of Chicago? If you want to expand your bar-animal horizons, here are three other classy venues (and of course, their respective exotic wildlife).

Prost!
2566 N. Lincoln Ave

Don’t let Prost!’s spartan interior scare you away. Grab a seat on one of the wooden benches and order yourself “Das Boot.” That’s right, a full 2-liter glass of authentic German beer. And if your stomach can handle it, be sure to order some of their delicious German food. The soft pretzel is a must.
Animal of choice: The dangerous DePaul grad student.

The Violet Hour
1520 N. Damen Ave.

From the outside, The Violet Hour looks like a rundown warehouse without a sign in sight. But inside, the darkened, fairy tale-like interior lives up to its hip Wicker Park location. You don’t go to The Hour for the decor — it’s the drinks that are out of sight. Bartenders — who go by mixologists here — conjure up some of the most unique and best-tasting drinks in the city.
Animal of choice: The elusive, thirty-something socialite.

The Pump Room
1301 N. State Pkwy.

Famed for being Frank Sinatra’s old hangout, The Pump Room retains that classic 1950s feel. While a meal here can be a bit pricey for those on a college budget, it’s a great after-dinner bar for you and your date. The drinks are fantastic, but the Sinatra-reminiscent band is even better. Even though they’ve recently relaxed their jacket policy, it’s still a fun bar to get dressed up for. Perhaps a great post-formal location?
Animal of choice: The prowling, after-hours executive.

Of course, The Keg is only a few blocks away, and, for most people, I realize that the giraffes are only a minor drawback to its beautifully beer-and-disease-glossed floors and odorous, graffiti-infested bathrooms. I’m certainly not going to drive the giraffes to extinction — so if you do end up at The Keg, just ignore them along with the rest of the atrocities.

By Natalie Southwick

Sometimes, it seems like the main lesson we’re supposed to take away from our years at Northwestern is the truism, “It’s not what you know; it’s who you know.” This week offered ample opportunities to rub elbows with both the famous and the soon-to-be-famous.

A&O’s Fall Quarter concert band, OK Go, makes their triumphant return to NU, and this time they’re going to do more than wear those awesome light-up jackets (I still want to know where to get one of those). Their Friday performance at the McCormick Tribune Center will include songs and a discussion of songwriting. Go to learn how to write your own songs, or just to declare your eternal love to Damian Kulash.

If you prefer your concerts a little louder and closer to home, NU’s very own rock stars, Boomshaka, have their spring show in the McCormick Auditorium this weekend. The show may be called “Restore Chaos,” but considering that it’s Boomshaka, I’m curious if chaos ever left.

For those among you whose indie-cred forbids them from seeing any band that someone else has heard of, we’ve got something for you, too: Mayfest’s Battle of the Bands pits Northwestern bands against each other for the chance to perform on Dillo Day. Since you probably won’t remember seeing whoever wins when they actually do play on Dillo Day, now is a good time to support your fellow student-musicians. Head to Nevin’s at 9 p.m. on Friday.

Drinking game of the week

By Andre Francisco

After a week off, we are back with a North Woods-inspired game called Moose. The game is a brilliant mix of quarters, kings and the classic seventh-heaven rule that gets you feeling and looking silly in no time.

Supplies:
1 empty ice tray
1 quarter
1 large cup
Drinks of any variety

The Game:
Place the cup in the center of a table and put the ice cube tray vertically (long-ways) in front of it. Have everyone pour a bit of their drink into the center cup. If everyone is drinking PBR, this isn’t so bad. But if you’re a bit more adventurous, use gin and tonic, Mike’s Hard Lemonade or any other mixed drink (warning: results could be nasty).

The aim of the game is to bounce the quarter off the table and into the ice-cube tray. If your quarter lands on the left side of the tray, it’s your turn to take a drink: the number of sips corresponds to which cube slot the quarter landed in. The closest slot to the thrower means one sip; the farthest means eight. If the quarter lands on the right side of the tray, the number of sips remains the same, but you choose someone else to drink them.

If you miss the tray entirely, drink one sip. If you make the quarter into the cup, then it’s a race for everyone to put their hands on their head to create “moose antlers”. The last person to grow antlers has to drink the cup’s concoction of alcohol and grossness. Then the cup is refilled with a little bit from everyone’s drink, and the game continues.

Bonus game: Movie mustache

This is like those mini-games you find in Grand Theft Auto, but with drinking. If you are watching a movie and want to add some drinking, grab some Scotch tape and a Sharpie. While the tape is still on the roll, draw a bunch of ridiculous mustaches on the tape. Then place the pieces of tape randomly over the TV screen. When an actor’s head lines up correctly with a mustache, everyone takes a shot. The number of mustaches you use will determine how many shots you’ll be taking, so be aware of how many ’staches you add. And when you get too drunk to pay attention to the movie, I recommend relocating the mustaches from the television screen to your friends’ faces.

Women in enormous hats sip on expensive mixed drinks. Men in polished seersucker suits puff on fresh cigars. And as horses race around the track at Kentucky’s famous Churchill Downs, they cheer in a refined manner, as if they were royalty.

If this is what you imagine the Kentucky Derby is like, you’re dead wrong. The infield — or the cheap seats — is where most Derby-goers experience the day’s races. Many of these infielders won’t see a single horse. Yes, they’ve come in the hopes of winning bets on some horses, but most will end up staying because they are too debilitatingly intoxicated to find the exit gate. This is the Kentucky Derby underground: As the wealthy elite sit comfortably in the grandstands, the infielders engage in a full-on, social-class riot. And as you would expect for poor college students, this is where you’ll find a few hundred of your Northwestern pals.

The infield, a large patch of grass and mud that is surrounded by the racetrack, is only accessible by a few tunnels. As I entered the darkened tunnel at 10 a.m., shirtless men of all shapes and sizes were stumbling around, chanting, “U-S-A, U-S-A!” Clearly, the drinking had already begun.

My partners in crime and I walked through the crowd with fold-up chairs upon our backs in search of a spot to set up camp. Along the way, one of my slightly intoxicated friends decided to acquaint himself with the army of police personnel ahead of us. “You always want to be on the good side of the law,” he remarked. He walked right up to an officer in uniform and stuck out his hand. “Good to have you here, sir.”

Without missing a beat, the officer grabbed my friend’s hand and immediately brought it up to his nose. “Have you been smoking weed?” the officer inquired. “You need to get out of here right now.”

My friend denied the charge, retreated his hand and quickly walked away. He hadn’t smoked anything. By all accounts, the law enforcement in the infield was not here to take matters lightly, nor enjoy the pleasure of a firm handshake.

After we set up our gear, we were greeted by a young, sloppily dressed guy who extended his hand and introduced himself as “Four-Fingered Billy.” His introduction helpfully gave me a moment to figure out where to place my pinky finger as I shook his hand, because he seemed to be missing his. Four-Fingered Billy said that if we really wanted a good time, we’d better head to turn three. (At the Derby, people use the turns of the racetrack to mark the location of important things such as a food stand or a mud pile.) He had been there earlier and it was, in his opinion, “where the party was at.”

When my friends and I made it to the third turn, we reached a Mardi Gras party on steroids, with little dashes of ecstasy. Surprisingly, this was where all of the awkward Northwestern students took up post. Our chapter of Sigma Alpha Epsilon, I found out, brought students to the Downs via charter bus for about $150 per person. This apparently did not cover the cost of $7 beers, as I was asked repeatedly by a handful of students to buy them “just one more round, bro.” In hindsight, it perhaps wasn’t a good idea to wear my bright, purple Northwestern shirt.

When not drinking, some people in the third turn did obscene things for beads while others, including a few Northwesterners, rolled around in the dirt playing mud ball. This rarely heard about sport, similar to soccer, involves a ball and a lot of intoxicated infielders. There is no point system, so no one wins — they mostly jump, slide and scream for no reason whatsoever. And, hey, it entertains them for hours.

But when the infielders sober up enough to realize that they’re actually at the biggest horse race in the world, they gather around the large monitors scattered about the infield to watch the Run for the Roses, the biggest race of the day.

This year, favorite Big Brown took home the title. However, a sobering moment occurred when we found out that Eight Belles, the horse which finished second in the race, collapsed just after crossing the finish line and broke both of her front ankles. She was euthanized on the spot.

In shock, we packed up our things and headed for exit tunnels. We couldn’t help but think that horse racing can be such a cruel sport for these animals.

As we reached the exit gates, a man shouted out in frustration from behind me. “Darn it! I didn’t see any boobies today! Someone give me some beads so I can see me some boobies!”

I was quickly reminded that this was the infield, where seersucker-less drunkards not only have no time for feelings, but no time for dignified class either. But it was also at that moment I realized that sitting in the infield is not about class and it’s most certainly not about money. These people –Northwestern students included — make fools out of themselves here. In the end, this social-class riot is not a class war of superiority, but a full-on battle for people to have the time of their lives on one sunny, Saturday afternoon each year. And if that’s what it’s really all about, you’ll be sure to find me at the next social class riot in 2009.

Supplies:
Beer
People in a circle

The Game:
One person starts by saying the name of a celebrity, historical figure or well-known fictional character. Examples of acceptable responses include Scooby-Doo, Michael Jordan, Calvin Coolidge and Karl Rove. The next person in the circle must then start drinking until they think of someone whose first name starts with the same letter of the last name of the person that was previous said. So if someone said Bill Cosby, an acceptable answer would be Colin Farrell. This continues around the circle.

You can reverse the direction of the turns by saying someone whose first and last name starts with the same letter or someone who only has one name. Susan Sarandon or Cher send the drinking back to whoever sent it to you, but Oprah’s last name is Winfrey — so the drinking continues in the same direction. This rule can create battles of drunken wits between two people who refuse to stop drinking until they have thought of a name to reverse the drinking direction.

The general rule to who counts as a response is if the majority of the people in the room know who they are. So if you are in a journalism crowd, Frank Rich and Bill Kristol count. Theater majors can get away with Mary Zimmerman, and biology students can blurt out Gregor Mendel. The game has it’s own twist for every new group of people you play with.

This may seem obvious, but you have to keep drinking while you are thinking of a name. People tend to forget this and stop drinking in frustration. Make it your job to remind them exactly what game they are playing. There is also no real end to this game, so when it devolves in to a discussion about whether Britney Spear’s Blackout has any redeeming qualities or if George Stephanopoulos would make a good Hiphopapotamus, it’s time to stop.

Drink of the Week: Ice Cream Genius

By Natalie Southwick

Yes, it sometimes snows in Evanston when it should be spring. Now get over it. There are far more important ice-related events this time of year, anyways. Yes, folks, I’m talking about the glory that was Tuesday’s Free Cone Day at Ben & Jerry’s. There are few things in life better than ice cream, and VERY few things more exciting than getting something for free. Combine the two, and you getting something like bliss. Ice cream does more than just decorate cones, though. Here’s a fun and simple yet delicious drink to help you dispose of that extra scoop (or three).

Ice Cream Genius

Ingredients:

• 2 oz amaretto
• 1/2 cup orange juice
• 1/2 cup vanilla ice cream

Directions: Blend all ingredients together in a blender (good luck stealing one of those from Sargent). Serve in a cocktail glass.

In my time at Northwestern, I haven’t learned a thing from my classes except the meaning of life from my Russian Literature professor. And what am I going to do with that? Write a book or something? Don’t think so. Luckily, parties have taught me something I can use on an everyday basis: how to party harder.

So I’d like to impart the knowledge my friends and I have learned while partying. I think it might be useful for you too.

10. Just like a cheap hooker who tells you she’s on birth control when she’s really not, the bottle of Grey Goose that frat boy is holding is actually full of Smirnoff. Don’t worry, no sorority girl will notice. It’s cheaper that way.

9. Throwing a “let’s get written up” party in your dorm room at 10 a.m. does not amuse the administration.

8. If you find yourself at a trivia night in a Chicago bar, you’ll probably beat the crap out of those DePaul graduate students in categories such as the “History of the Dalai Lama” and “French New Wave Cinema,” no matter how intoxicated you may be. You won’t, however, beat them at topics such as “NASCAR” and “Pornography of the 1970s.”

7. If you drink only red wine for the entire night and then throw up, your inebriated friends will think there’s some sort of internal bleeding and attempt to call 911. Assure them that while you’re no internalist, you think you’ll be fine.

6. So you want to get drinks into an outdoor concert that doesn’t allow drinks. As you long as they allow food, the only thing you have to do is bake a glass bottle into a loaf of bread. When the bread is finished baking, fill it with your favorite booze. Seriously, no one checks the bread.

5. No, stumbling into Tech after a night of drinking is not a good idea. It quickly becomes Satan’s maze of hell, a place you won’t escape from until the next morning.

4. Pouring two bottles of Everclear into one cooler of jungle juice is not overkill. It’s smart, conservative thinking. Not only will you use less juice powder, but your guests will be too blacked out after one cup to make enough noise to warrant a neighborly call to the cops.

3. Despite what you may think, the person next to you wants to hook up with someone just as much as you do. If they don’t, they probably live in PARC or Slivka.

2. The Evanston Police do not care if you’re trying to “sleep” at your friend’s kegger, they will still threaten to give you a $500 fine for refusing to cooperate with law enforcement.

1. Drunkenly shouting the lyrics to that new Flo-rida song won’t get you laid at that frat party. Drunkenly shouting the lyrics to a Sondheim musical at a theatre fundraising party will.

So hold these truths to your heart, Northwestern. And remember: Just because you’re paralyzingly intoxicated doesn’t mean you can’t learn something important about yourself too.

For the basic rules, and pictures of the game being played, watch the video below.

[See post to watch Flash video]

Special Rules: Getting another beer should be referred to as “leveling up” and taking a shot is called “fighting a boss.” You’re not getting drunk: You’re “getting wise”. If you have some Dungeons & Dragons or World of Warcraft experience you may want to choose a character class for the night, such as paladin, ranger or fighter. You can also pick your race, such as human or elf.

It’s also important to take a wizard name and then make people drink when they accidentally call you by your real name. A great way to get your wizard name? Combine your middle name with the street you lived on as a kid. This formula temporarily christened me Weaver Zenith.

The game also has a little bit of an Edward 40 Hands element: after a couple of levels it becomes difficult to put down your staff without tipping it over. That makes for an interesting experience when you “level out,” or go to the bathroom.

These are only some of the side rules that were made up while playing the game — part of the fun of the game is inventing your own variations.

Whether you’re yelling dire warnings about Northwestern’s dating scene from the steps of Harris, flashing your sorority gear at them in a sneaky, planning-way-too-far-ahead recruitment maneuver or taking two of them to Hundo with your friends, the temptation to play with the prospies is overwhelming. It’s fine to have a little bit of fun at their expense — after all, we’re paying to be here and they aren’t. Yet. But don’t forget that you, too, were once one of these naive little pieces of jailbait, wandering around campus clutching your bright purple folder. We’ve all been there, so let’s have a little sympathy for them.

Keeping that in mind, this week’s drink comes to you in the spirit of prospie solidarity.