The dawning of a new ice age

Craig Balogh and Dana Starr were two of Wolf’s ice victims. (Photo: Wolf)

New drinking game gains bro-mentum

I’ve never understood or enjoyed the concept of calling a fellow male companion a “bro.” Oddly enough, it continues even with the not so subtle mocking of the term in the late 90’s film Zoolander, when Owen Wilson memorably says to Ben Stiller, “I’m not your bra…bra.” And now in 2010, “bro” has taken a new turn of ridiculousness … I mean awesomeness. A reliable source recently informed me of a new social phenomena called “Icing.”

You see, when you “Ice” someone, you sneak up on them (at a party, a bar or brodeo) and whip out a Smirnof fIce previously hidden, and say “You’ve been Iced, bro!” (with the emphasis on “bro”). When the unsuspecting broseff realizes he’s been “Iced,” he is then forced drop to one knee and pound the entirety of the Smirnoff Ice.

Like a simple game of roshambo (or should say broshambo) there’s always a counter attack. The only way to pull off a deflection or an “Ice Block,” is to have your own Smirnoff Ice cleverly hidden. So when you’re sneaky snake in the grass bro claims that you’ve been “Iced,” you then quickdraw your own icy carnage and say, “No bro, you’ve been Iced.” The humiliated “bro-daggit” must then drop to one knee and slam both Ices.

However, there is a catch. You can never refuse an Ice. If you do, you are excommunicated and can therefore never be allowed to Ice another bro or be Iced. In other words, it’s the end of a friendship.

Now the game’s origins are vast and riddled with mystery. Some say the history can be traced back to the College of Charleston in South Carolina, and some say it more than likely started with an Abercrombie and Fitch employee. Nonetheless, on the surface, the game obviously seems driven by Smirnoff itself. But according to a recent company statement, “Icing is consumer-generated, and some people think it is fun. We never want underage ‘icing’ and we always want responsible drinking.”

Though Smirnoff denies any relation ship to the questionable grassroots marketing campaign, it seems no coincidence that there is a hazy line between consumer and corporation. As University of Central Florida junior Kevin Wolfenfeld commented in a recent story appearing the New York Times, “Guys who would never buy Smirnoff before are buying it now to shield against attacks. Most players — a widening swath of the campus, he said — would probably stop “if it turns out they’re being used to market a drink they really don’t like.” And he’s right. To be fair, it seems very unlikely that Smirnoff would start a game like this considering anytime someone is Iced the typical reaction is something involving the term, “F#*k this!”

The game has even gotten to the point where people are taking Icing to new uncharted levels. “To be sure, Icing has made me a little paranoid,” says David Parker of The Huffington Post, “To protect myself, I’ve started carrying all of my possessions at all times. But sometimes even that’s not enough. I was walking down the street yesterday and a bro handed me a baby. He was like, “You just got Babied, bro!” Now I have to raise this baby.”

You might be thinking Icing sounds nonsensical, but then again “broners” have always been interested in new ways of humiliating their friends. Before the frat boy-inspired Icing renaissance, bros were subjected to embarrassing each other in other “low bro” fashions. There’s the Bottle Pound, where you tap the top of

your “bromeo’s” bottle with your bottle and then immediately berate them for wasting beer as the brew volcanoes everywhere. There’s the straightforward yet highly avoidable Party Foul where even a slight spill of beverage results in you‘re friends saying comments such as, “Yeah, I remember my first beer.” And then there’s the simple and yet effective act of just hitting your bro in the nuts, which is often considered harsh brotocol.

Now the game is simple enough but you can’t just hand someone an Ice and expect a successful Icing. It takes creativity when it’s Ice ‘o clock. The best time to Ice someone is when they least expect it, like at work, in the shower, in the glove box, during a P90X workout, a driveby Icing, a ding dong ditch Icing, in a dishwasher, at a Dave Matthews Band or Train concert, at the end of a fishing line and even Saran-wrapped to the inside of a toilet.

Though the possibilities for a solid Icing are endless, one must be wary of certain scenarios. One, you don’t want to be labeled as an over-icer. No one likes a bro whose always try to Ice everyone. Two, under no circumstances, no matter how tempting it may seem should you ever try to Ice a cop, or an ambulance driver (or anyone driving for that matter), your surgeon or your dentist and especially never ever Ice anyone who actually loves Smirnoff Ice (i.e. Lindsay Lohan). You can definitely Ice chicks, don’t think it’s only bros icing bros. Sure the game is mostly played by adolescent men, but like The Game in the film “Waiting,” bros can Ice hos, hoes can Ice bros and hos can certainly Ice hos.

So after doing a ton of research and feeling knowledgeable enough on the topic of Icing, I decided to test my skills out in the Village with my buddy Craig Balogh. First we went to Whiskey Creek for happy hour. After not seeing anyone we recognized (and not wanting to get punched in the face) we decided our only plan of attack was to Ice the bartender, Dana Starr. “Two Ices please,” I asked. With a look of total confusion Starr responded, “Umm okay, do you guys want some grenadine in that?” With confidence I responded, “No no no, just two icy cold Ices.” As soon Starr handed over the Ices we exclaimed, “You’ve been Iced, bro!” [Long silence] She had no idea what the hell we were talking about. After some explaining she reluctantly got on one knee and took the Icing like a champ.

Next we went to Lakanuki, ordered an Ice and immediately Iced the bartender Nate Demasse. We then Iced a random young lady that walked through the door and then Iced her and her two friends who followed shortly after. Sadly, none of them knew what was going on. So after an evening of nonstop Icing and feeling a little discouraged we decided to call it a night.

But that night, I couldn’t sleep. You see, Icing leaves you in a constant state of fear and paranoia. It’s not unlike those “Girls Gone Wild” DVDs; once you subscribe, you’re in it for life.  You never know when and where you’re next Icing might come from.

Like the ancient bros of Rome, Mammoth is undoubtedly a brotocracy. It’s frightening, because at any moment even your closest bro could brotray you. So, my advice to you: stay Iced my bros. It’s now an Icy cold world.