Beatbox Booze Is Like If Franzia And Four Loko Had A Baby

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Has anyone ever had a Franzia spigot in their mouth and, while suckling the Fazoli’s house merlot, thought to themselves, “If only this shit were stronger”? Has there ever been someone who, while shotgunning a Four Loko, thought, “I wish I had a whole gallon of this!”? Anyone who would think one of those things, let alone both, would have to be one crazy son of a bitch. Enter the crazy sons of bitches who created Beatbox, the boxed wine/trashcan punch hybrid that was created to allow you to take all the fun of your fraternity rave’s beverages and unleash that on the world. I fucking love it. There’s a box in my fridge right now.

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Beatbox is essentially boxed trashcan punch. It’s like if the Kool-Aid man burst through the wall of the Everclear distillery. It’s 11.1% alcohol (light beer is 4% usually) and it has been designed to let you rage on the go. Taking a bag of this on the river will result in you being the most popular floater of the day, until you bang out some guy’s girlfriend on top of a boulder for all the river to see and an impromptu beach rager organized by you spirals so wildly out of control that local authorities close the river forever, like an abandoned insane asylum on a faraway hill, left to disintegrate in time, haunted by the memories of what once happened there.

Beatbox is the type of drink that’s both strong enough for a man, and tasty enough for a lady (it’s also low calorie apparently). The stuff is meant to be consumed with reckless abandon. The makers went so far as to put a handprint on the bag. Slapping is encouraged, nay, required. Every once in a while I’ll pour myself a cup (or five). I say every once in a while because if I drank Beatbox any more regularly than I already do I would have either started a family or a fire by this point. Pregnancy and pyromania are two of the many fantastic side effects of Beatbox. It really just brings the party, you guys.

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As a raging alcoholic regular partygoer, I highly recommend taking Beatbox to your next float trip, pool outing, pregame, tailgate, or anywhere you consume alcohol, really. I apologize for the over-enthusiastic tone. I’ve had a few cups of Beatbox already today. It’ll do that. Now if you excuse me, it’s Friday afternoon, so I think I’ll go force an intern to hold a Beatbox bag for me as I spend the rest of the day taking more pulls and slapping the bag.

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