Blake the Snake

Question: What’s the average length of a cobra?

Answer: 6 ft.

There it is. The question that turned average Blake into Blake the Snake. And the moment we learned to never challenge him to animal trivia.

I’m sure you can imagine how boring it gets in the van some nights, and after a busy few days we weren’t really feeling any sing-a-longs. So, a gauntlet was thrown. Blake and Amie. 5 random animal questions. The most correct answers wins. Loser gets the winner’s favorite animal tattoo. The stakes were high and game faces were on. Questions were fired off, one after the next. By question 5 they were all tied up. Amie missed her question, so if Blake got his it was game over and Amie was getting.

Question: What’s the average length of a cobra?

Answer: 6 ft.

Game over. Lesson learned: never underestimate Blake the Snake.


Flip and Flop

We’ve all seen those dumb videos of the insufferable frat boys flipping water bottles and landing them right side up. Holy shit dude, your ability to throw a plastic bottle in the air and stick the landing is impressive, said no one ever. But, that still hasn’t stopped a member of our #squad. Tables, bars, headboards, roofs, cars, nothing is off limits. A day doesn’t pass without him trying to land one. Though it may seem innocent for most, we’re at our breaking point. It’s like when your kid brother is constantly poking you so you tell him you’ll break his finger off of his hand. How do you tell someone that if they throw that bottle again you’ll break their hand off of their body?

It wouldn’t be so bad if he actually landed it sometimes. But we’re working with a success rate of about 6%, and practice doesn’t always make perfect. I would never tell someone to give up on their dreams, but when it interrupts my nap, then we have problems.


Stop Being Polite and Start Getting Real

Although we only spend an average of 5 hours in our hotel rooms a day that’s plenty of time to really find out how these people operate. Let’s just say in the Real World house I wouldn’t make it past week 3 before I was thrown on a plane and sent back to Louisville. Between the excessive bathroom time, the 27,000 alarms that start 10 minutes after I finally fell asleep, and the snoring that is not of this earth, I just can’t. I get that everyone has their quirks and through this trip we’re going to get very comfortable with each other but please say “no” to that 3rd cheese enchilada if you know you’re sharing a bathroom with me later. Finally, TV. If you want to watch your Bachelor or CNN or Kardashian, great, but the second you fall asleep, that shit’s going off and I’m taking the remote hostage. Silence is golden, especially while I’m counting sheep. Takeaways: pray for a single room.