There are a few experiences that every Badger is proud to have taken part in here at UW. Or is proud to have lied about being a part of (The Black Sheep won’t tell anyone, we’ll just judge you in silence).
You might be a Badger if:
You can do a blind taste test 37 types of cheese: At least 14 of which are in your fridge right now.
(The same goes for beer, only double. That’s right—two whole wheels of beer.)
More than once you’ve bragged to your friends at other schools about the number of people you know who’ve gone to detox: FYI, 12 is not that many—if you’re going to lie at least be realistic.
You refer to Illinois, half of Iowa, and 1/8 of Indiana as Baja Wisconsin: But really… that’s what it is.
No night is off limits: If you weren’t supposed to drink on a Monday, why would Hatter’s have $2 micro bottles and bombs? Let’s face it, the best deals are Sunday through Wednesday. But you’re not gonna not go out Thursday, Friday, and Saturday…that would basically be sacrilege.
You’ve been really confused by the song “Teach Me How to Dougie”: You’re out on a Tuesday and you hear “Teach Me How to Dougie” at the bar. Suddenly a perplexed look comes across you and your friends’ faces. What the hell even is that? It’s “Teach Me How to Bucky!”
Your whole freshmen dorm floor was written up: Drinking being prohibited in the dorms causes a huge problem. Where are you supposed to put all your empties? Well, don’t hid them inside the ceiling of the den… as you may recall two years ago, it rained bottles and cans on Witte 4B.
You have to be buzzed in order to find your way to Camp Randall: And you have to use Union South as a reference when you leave otherwise you’ll never find your way home to nap. You’re just way too sober.
You’ve been trapped in humanities for days…more than once: “Wait, am I in the wrong side of the building? How did I end up in this courtyard? WHERE’S THE DOOR?!”
You’re still receiving emails from The Paleontology and Veggie Tale’s re-enactment student orgs: You signed up for them freshmen year and you don’t know hwo to unsubscribe… That org fair at the Kohl Center can be so confusing.
You may or may not have in your possession a terrace chair: Or two…or three…or ten.
You’ve talked to the lucky late night security guard awkwardly for 10 minutes on a Friday night: “Yeah, I’m just going to my friend’s… he lives here… somewhere.” Oh to be young and a freshman.
You’re either kinky and enjoy being locked in a cage in the North stacks: Or you refuse to go near Memorial Library. Word on the street is it’s haunted. Absolutely…
almost certainly… maybe… ehh, 20/80 chance.
Your silverware drawer is complementary of Gordon’s, Liz Waters, or Dejope dining halls: As well as most of your cups, bowls, plates, and anything else you use to eat.
When apartment hunting, your sole criterion is “how big is the basement?”: And about how many people would you say fit on this porch/balcony?
You’re never offended by the warm greeting, “EAT SHIT!”: Instead, you kindly reply with a jovial, “FUCK YOU!” We are all gentlemen, ladies, and up-and-coming science/business professionals here.
You’ve attended a secret Van Hise rooftop party: There always fun for a while until someone decides to do a beer bong.
You’ve asked yourself: WWBD?: What would Bucky do? Then you pre-gamed and partied, but skipped the push-ups because fuck that.
When you proudly tell people you go to Wisconsin, and they ask “which UW?” You loudly say “WISCONSIN, DUMBASS!”: Honestly, what’s their deal? As if there’s any other one.