Blue/White 2008

The sun rose early that morning, crowning over Mt. Nittany and washing the Sacred Ground in its light. Beaver Stadium responded in kind, redirecting the light off its windows, beams, and flagpoles. The Bryce Jordan Center tried to do the same, but realized only shitty teams play there. Somewhere between the two, the caravan arrived.

I haven’t been to the annual Blue and White Game at Penn State since 2005, a fact that I made sure everyone in attendance was well aware of. I wanted to make this a good tailgate, and had to make everyone aware that it had damn well better be.

Our tailgate area was in the grass next to the stadium, a lush section of turf that I credit to the Turfgrass Management majors. Within the first hour I had my sandals off and was prancing barefoot through the dark green shoots. That lasted until the dogs started peeing everywhere. Then I had another beer and the sandals came off again.

The Bloody Mary bar opened early, immediately followed by beer pong. Some of the guys we were tailgating with had the Drinko board going, with proceeds benefitting the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. Proceeds from beer pong benefitted the Get Pennypacker Drunk society. Donations were large and tasty.

Everything went well. I saw some good friends, people I hadn’t seen in a while, and nothing got out of control. Even the mandatory flip cup game was mild, despite Steve’s glorious proclamations from on high. There were even only two high-lows doled out. But the one was AWESOME, we thought dude broke his neck. It was well executed by myself and Jason.

Don't interrupt him, just look how happy he is!

Towards the end of the day, the cars started to leave. Around this time, certain individuals decided to behave like their canine pals and piss in the open field. Since most Penn State tailgates bring in extra uniformed and undercover cops from outside State College, this probably wasn’t the best idea. Hell, a few years ago I got busted by undercovers for taking a slice of pizza from an unmanned tailgate.

Overall, a great time. I didn’t get too drunk (rare), I hung out with some good friends, and the next day my sandals smelled like piss. Dog or human, I’ll never be able to figure out.

Open Letter Wednesday

It is with both joy and sadness that I announce a new feature here at Gorgeous; Open Letter Wednesday. The sadness stems from a recent decision that robs Penn State of a gastronomic legend, the chicken Cosmo. Normally, booze, drugs or a delicious cocktail of both are to blame for the loss of college memories. In this case Pierce Chicken Products is said thief:

April 2, 2008

Pierce Chicken Products
c/o Pilgrim's Pride Foodservice
244 Perimeter Center Parkway, NE
Atlanta, GA 30346

To Whom It May Concern:

How does it feel to be personally responsible for the demise of a 26 year-old tradition? I’m speaking, of course, about the inevitable death of the chicken Cosmo at Penn State this Friday. That deliciously crunchy, shaped and formed patty shaped and formed many a student’s life in their four (or more) years on campus.

The Cosmo appeared on campus way back in 1982 at a time when Joe Paterno still wasn’t eligible for Social Security. Since then the Cosmo has endeared itself to students and alumni alike, and that ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie, considering the Penn State Alumni Association is the largest in the world. I was lucky enough to live in West Halls as a freshman and the Cosmo was on the lunch and dinner menus every day. In fact, since I usually didn’t wake up until the last hour of lunch, it was more or less my main source of nutrition for two semesters. Elsewhere it was a rare treat, so much so that those jonesing for a fix would make the trek to the Burrowes and Curtin confluence for some natural-looking (your words, PCP) goodness.

I left the dorms after freshman year, but I still had friends that lived there, fortch. Oh how I looked forward to tagging along for a Cosmo with a slice of tomato and ranch dressing on those atypical days when ventured to campus for an extended period. But this isn’t just about me. I had roommates that would schedule classes around the Waring Commons dining hours, friends that would attend a different section of their class and those that would skip altogether just for the flavorful, pre-browned all breast meat cutlet (your words again).

Let me get to the crux of this letter though, as this is more than just me waxing reminiscent. I want to know why you are putting an end to the Cosmo, and with it the happiness and memories of hundreds of thousands of people. You say it is because Penn State is the only institution still buying the patties. This may be true, but let’s break down the numbers. According to Penn State Food Service 274,000 Cosmos are sold each academic year, roughly 650 cases a month. Let’s assume these cases sell for $4.00 each (this is purely an estimate); we’re talking more than $31,000 in Cosmo sales alone and I can’t imagine the cost to produce them is any more than $1.00 a case. That’s a pretty hefty profit margin. I’d be a little more sympathetic if these were your bread and butter, but you are the largest chicken producer in the United States, the second-largest in Mexico and count Kentucky Fried Chicken and Wendy’s as two of your main clients. According to your website, Pierce Chicken invented the first fully-cooked fried chicken and launched the wing category. Methinks you aren’t hurting to turn a buck.

In closing, I ask that you reconsider what appears to be a rash decision based on dollars but not sense. You pledge to give the kind of respect one expects in a partner, but to me you’re more like a lover that got us hooked on smack, only to leave because you don’t like our drug habit. For that, you should be ashamed. I believe I won’t be alone in expressing my discontent and I hope my loyal Cosmo comrades can show you the error of your ways. If not, then good day to you. I said good day!

Buttermilk battered,

Brunswick P. Danforth

Penn State Bar Golf '08

It's February again, and that means that once again the Nittany Lions that left then den years (3) ago return home to discuss their careers, financial successes, and current relationships. Or drink so much sorority girls are interesting.


That's right, it's Bar Golf '08 at Penn State! One drink per bar, one bar per hole, 18 holes for the round. One drink per hole gets you par, more gets you arrested. Then there's the specialty drinks, like a Long Island Iced Tea at the health inspector-watch listed Cafe 210. That's an easy eagle on a Par 5. That car bomb is worth an eagle at #6 The Phyrst. You won't feel it until #8.

Authored by Steve Tracy, Frb '08 - Penn State University

The back nine gets tricky, when the highly structured event (half hour per hole, one hour at #9 to eat--vital) turns to a goat screw. People wander away, get lost in alleys, are beaten by bouncers, and loudly renounce Michigan (fuck Michigan) to anyone willing to listen.

For some, the back nine means vomiting with all the power of Anthony Morelli's arm (a lot), and are left with all of his intelligence (not a lot). If you survive to the 18th Hole, you're one of the few. Luckily, there's a prize waiting for you.

No, it's not your closest friends and family with 'life saving advice' and 'a chance for you to get better,' unlike my 24th birthday. It's another drink!


And maybe bail.

Bonus prize: a hellish, hallucination-infused drive to D.C. the next day, complete with sweats, shakes, and nightmares.

Ah, yes. Another round complete.

Update on Monday, after the tourney.