A person who gets their mail in some other person's post office box. Usually done because they don't want to pay for their own.
the box squatter's mail moved from box to box as women demanded he pay at least a share of the box rent.
by postal goddess May 15, 2011
Get the box squattermug. 
by 75Steph April 6, 2017
Get the Honey boxmug. Box 87 was first discovered after the death of Sir Barry B. Benson in 1987, it is rumored that this box contains the answers to the mysteries of his past. But no one can know for sure, as everyone who has every opened it has never shared anything, because they can never be found.
RULES:
If this box is delivered to you DO NOT OPEN IT
Find the book
RULES:
If this box is delivered to you DO NOT OPEN IT
Find the book
by cHicknEned June 12, 2018
Get the BOX 87mug. This question tests if an adult male is a real man or not. A woman asks when assessing if an adult male is worth being in a romantic relationship with. If the guy says yes, he is a real man. If he is confused by the question, he is not worthy. If he says no but expresses interests in improving himself, don't write him off as a not-man yet. there is still hope
"Mike, do you know what to do with a box of bees? "
"uh, no?"
"then learn or go away. I only date REAL MEN."
"uh, no?"
"then learn or go away. I only date REAL MEN."
by junebugistired April 23, 2020
Get the Do you know what to do with a box of bees?mug. Well he collapsed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome on the E.R. floor
Panic attacked, anaphylactic and ataxic
The way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges
Roman candles at both ends in his synapses
And the method with which he recycled his humors
Trojan Horse'd his Blood-Brain Barrier and raised the LD-50, yes, yes
And through flight-or-fight revelation shame the Black Box Warrior
He skipped this town and headed straight down history
Shields himself from reason in a Kevlar baby-blue Tuxedo
Quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers
His ego a mosquito, evil incarnate good incognito
Pops placebos for libido, screaming, "Bless the torpedoes"
For what? For what? For what it's worth
If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now
For what? For what? For what it's worth
There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down
Well, he was wearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose
Around his Lotus jugular when they came
Well, they found him with a map to every victim of his love
And a tattoo of a blue jay on his face
And they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flatline cry
A hymn out in Hungarian Harmonic
But he cocked his noggin, through his stoma sang, "For auld lang syne"
"Happy birthday to the succulents, I'll die your hydroponics"
His rib cage was a hornet's nest, palpitations set the beat
His vagus nerve a turk's head knot, an axel hitch, a carrick bend
Panic attacked, anaphylactic and ataxic
The way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges
Roman candles at both ends in his synapses
And the method with which he recycled his humors
Trojan Horse'd his Blood-Brain Barrier and raised the LD-50, yes, yes
And through flight-or-fight revelation shame the Black Box Warrior
He skipped this town and headed straight down history
Shields himself from reason in a Kevlar baby-blue Tuxedo
Quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers
His ego a mosquito, evil incarnate good incognito
Pops placebos for libido, screaming, "Bless the torpedoes"
For what? For what? For what it's worth
If it was going to kill you boy, it would have by now
For what? For what? For what it's worth
There's no more looking back, it's looking up or looking down
Well, he was wearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose
Around his Lotus jugular when they came
Well, they found him with a map to every victim of his love
And a tattoo of a blue jay on his face
And they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flatline cry
A hymn out in Hungarian Harmonic
But he cocked his noggin, through his stoma sang, "For auld lang syne"
"Happy birthday to the succulents, I'll die your hydroponics"
His rib cage was a hornet's nest, palpitations set the beat
His vagus nerve a turk's head knot, an axel hitch, a carrick bend
to get this published, I have to add the name, but they also wouldnt let me add all the elyrics so this is just a part 1! anyways, here's the enamel that this site wanted : Black box warrior (p1)
by AHAHHARAGHGHGHGHGGHG!!!!!! ): November 8, 2023
Get the Black box warrior (p1)mug. A 5-15 year old car that isn't quite shitty enough to be called a shitbox, and isn't economical enough to be a ecobox.
by Arionio March 6, 2013
Get the Mustard Boxmug.