VIC MACKEY HATES A LOT OF THINGS, AKA "MANY QUICK HITTERS"

Hey Bros. Vic Mackey here. I can't really apologize for my laziness lately. Just been boozing too much, fucking around, and crushing weights. What else is new, right? In any event, I apologize. Starting next week (but perhaps sooner), I'm going to get back to posting regularly. But to make it up to you, I'm going to post a bunch of quick hitters... right now!!!

/Your excitement smells like a beer.

*Well, while Bronest accurately told you that March Madness/Fratness fucking rules, I can say that 2010 March Fratness went from being one of the most exciting tournies in recent memory to being one of my most hated. All thanks to those fucking cornfuckers from Kansas. I should have stuck to my theory that teams with a bunch of white dudes led by 1 speedy black dude always win. Oh well. I would pull for Cornell, because they fit my theory perfectly, but they're fucking NERDS. So how's this, I'll pull for them as my nerdy favorite and then I'll choose Washington as my non-nerdy favorite. I don't even know if that school has Bros anymore, but I'm assuming that, since Nate "The Great" Washington went there, they can't be that bad.

On another note. Fuck Scottie Reynolds. Flamer.

*As you know by now, Bros hate Hipsters. Well, I am proud to say that Bronest and I spent the past weekend waging war on Hipsters. We encountered several of this deplorable breed on the streets. And, when they refused to give Bronest a cig, we came out, guns blazing. Bronest inquired, "So you drink Pabst out of your BRO's Asshole?" I informed them that Owl City fucking sucks and that they probably didn't have any cigs because all they had were dicks for sucking. That'll show those fucking hipsters.

*St Patrick's Day happened. It's a sweet day, I guess. Though, in a true bro's view, it's just a day to drink a lot, only it's a lot more crowded wherever you go. Hey, guidos who decide St. Pat's day is a time to wear your ironic "Kiss me, I'm Irish" shirt! You should be hanged.

*Speaking of guidos, Ronnie and J Woww from the Jersey Shore are writing a book. I'm buying it.

(Kidding)

*Fantasy Baseball Drafts are the sweetest thing ever, and my next *real* post will detail my experiences with the last one I participated in. Here's a teaser: One of my bros went to the hospital after his blood pressure dipped to 72 over 46 from drugs and drinking.

*God I want to get in a fight so bad. Just throwing that out there.

*And finally, I leave you with this. There are no words for how BRO this video is:

March Fratness...

Hey, bros. Sorry there hasn't been hardly any updates recently...but don't worry - Vic and I have just been out getting inspired, i.e. Broing our fucking faces off.

This is just a quick message to all the bros out there broing hard. It's march fratness...bros the nation over love it...even if you don't watch college bball during the season, you know you do in March...why? Because this is fucking America, you assholes.

So this is just a message from us here at Bro Hard, wishing all you bros happy bracketing, happy boozing, happy bro-harding - and let's all have a great, completely blacked out March fratness.

And Remember...

BRO HARD OR BRO HOME.

Quick Hitter #2- Dear Bros

Derelicts of the World (yes I am talking to you, my fellow bros), I have an important message for you:

These sacks of shit are stealing our stuff!!!



Yes, what you see there is a grouping of hipster trash. The worst kind of non-bro (in my opinion, which is actually fact). Scrawny, pale, unclean, terrible fashion sense. Those are the calling cards of the hipster. You would think that shitty hipster trash would stick to what they know best: blowing each other, shitty music, and pensive glares into the distance. But NO. These assholes are trying to move in on our territory, and I am PISSED. Why? Because one of my favorite alcoholic beverages of all time (seen below) is now being associated with fucking hipsters. And that makes me SICK to my stomach. The beer in question?



That's right. One of the biggest bros of all time, Jesus Christ himself, loves Pabst Blue Ribbon. And now, scumbags like Pete Wentz are trying to glomb off of JC's steez. I don't really want to make this post very long, because the rage that builds with each word I type is immense; however, I must implore all of you bros of the world to do as any self-respecting bro would do should they see a dirty hipster with greasy matted hair and skinny jeans tucked into cruddy Converses walking around with their trendy Pabst Blue Ribbon: kick their shins in, stick your foot on their throat, snatch the PBR out of the suspect's hands, chug 3/4s of it and dump the rest on their face. THAT'LL LEARN 'EM GOOD.

Tips on DILLIGAFING people in traffic...an essential guide

. . . Gridlock might be a little extreme. Traffic is something we all deal with...it's one of the few common experiences non-bros and bros share on a regular basis. Of course...everyone hates traffic...EVERYONE. I don't care if you're a bro, a non-bro, or even a chick, you hate traffic. The question is, what do you do about it?

In my last post...and in all of Vic's recent posts about skiing...we've been illustrating how one of the pillars of BRO is making things better for yourself. Instead of just lollygagging, sober down the blue squares with all the other pussies...get a little boozey and rock the black diamonds and get real loud and offensive on your way down...rock the mountain harder than it rocks you, etc. So...we all know how to apply this concept to a myriad of different things...boozing, fratting, dilligafing, slaying girls, doing funny shit and so on - but I've only recently learned the virtues of dilligafing in traffic...and how genuinely great it is. It really just improves the process ten-fold for any bro out there who gets plagued with huge traffic jams on a daily basis.

I recently was in a horrendous traffic jam...it took me about two hours to go ten miles...it fucking sucked. I was so angry in my car...if I could have I would have just started shotgunning beers in the driver's seat...chucking the empties at the other pissed off drivers...climbed out of my sunroof onto the top of my car...dumped like a caterpillar truck into my hand...and made it rain on all the windshields around my general area. I had no beer...and wasn't about to do that sober. I don't EVER want to go to jail...but if/when I do...I just better be drunk.

This traffic wasn't even necessarily highway traffic...it was the kind of traffic were a major highway empties out onto a major road in a town...not a residential road, but the kind of road that's only two lanes each way, and there are all kinds of shops and other bullshit along the side of the road, which obviously compound the traffic jam because all of the fucking brilliant assholes who decided to go to KFC or get their hair cut on that particular road at that particular time are all trying to force their way out onto the road from the parking lots with that fucking blank look on their faces as if to say, "The fuck? What's all this...what's with all these...cars and shit??" ---- Get a fucking clue, dumbass...it's 6:00 pm...it's one of the most traffic congested cities in the US...and you just HAD to go about your pointless business? Go fuck youself...or at least get some tint on your windows so I can't put a face with my hate. It'd be doing yourself a favor.

Now...this is really the best opportunity to dilligaf others in traffic. Highway traffic...even dead-stopped traffic is hard...there are so many cars around you really don't want to dilligaf anyone...the stakes are just too high. But this scenario...the one I found myself in recently, was PERFECT for on-the-road dilligaffing.

The first thing I did...indeed the first idea I had for dilligafing in such a scenario came to me when we were at a red light...I was at least thirty cars back from the light, and I was listening to rap music in my car. It was The Notorious B.I.G. ... bros can listen to all kinds of music, but if you didn't have at least ONE bro in college who had a biggie poster in his room...i'd have to check your bro card. Now my car has a pretty bomb system...it's not obnoxious, it's just tight, and it bumps pretty hard when I want it to. There was some asshole in a car in front of me...and he kept trying to catch my eye from his sideview...of course, I'd let him catch my eye, and I'd hold his gaze...originally just as a way to entertain myself I made a point of staring at him. Through his exaggerated gesticulation...I realized he wanted me to turn my music down. Honestly...(and this original reaction may have been non-bro...sorry if it was) I was concerned...I really hate the guys who are at a red light and their bass is so loud it shakes my mirrors, and I can't hear my own music. So ORIGINALLY...the feeling I had was one of courtesy. I looked around at all the cars around me...to see if anyone else was staring at me with menace. NOBODY was looking at me. I looked at all my mirros...none were shaking. "Okay..." I thought... "This guys just being an asshole." So I turned the music up louder. I watched him in the mirror...he shook his head, initially with a smile, as if he thought this was some kind of misunderstanding...then he gave me a tumbs-down sign, and moved it up and down...either telling me to turn it down, or practicing for later that night when he'd be thumbing his boyfriend's butthole. I nodded...then turned my music up even louder, and turned my sub almost all the way up. At this point...the people around me WERE staring at me with mean looks...ALL my mirrors were shaking violently. (This was a LONG light) But the guy kept staring at me...kept giving me those signals...so I turned it up a bit louder...and after deciding I'd rather keep my speakers and not dilligaf this guy any harder...I had another great realization... So I OPENED my windows...ALL of them. I must have been audible a mile away. Once the light turned green this guy made a point of getting out of my lane...AWESOME. Points for all the bros the world over.

The next idea for dilligafing came a little further down that road. When we were again stuck at a red light...but the light was so fucking far away I couldn't even see it. There was an obsese, very ugly woman in a black SUV...

.... WOW... What are the chances...that I'd find a picture of the above-mentioned lady on the internet?? Awesome. I love you, internet. Now...back to the dilligafing of this woman. She was trying to get out of a KFC parking lot and out onto the heavily congested roadway. Originally, I didn't take note of her. She was pretty far back in the lot, and was making it pretty obvious she was waiting for a better time to try and get out...I was RIGHT on the ass of the car in front of me...so I didn't plan on having to deal with her...and hadn't even realized quite yet how hideous the woman actually was. After about a minute of just sitting there...I see the nose of this black SUV pull forward, quite a ways, very quickly...it was...as if...no, it couldn't be that she'd suddenly decided to get in front of me, could it? Yep. Bros, that's exactly what this fucking fool of a woman was trying to do.

I'll try explain the positioning of the cars. The front of my car was probably about five feet from the end of the little parking lot off-ramp thing. Meaning, that if she wanted to get in front of me, she'd have to cut about an inch from my front bumper...that pissed me off. Naturally I moved forward about another foot...leaving me about an inch or so away from the car in front of me. Then...the ugly lady pulls even FARTHER ahead. THIS is when I took note of how filthy and hideous she was...I looked into her car...locked eyes with her...she was smoking a cigarette...with ALL the windows shut. Stupid bitch. I could see it in her eyes though, that she knew what was up, and that this was a competition. The traffic finally began to move a little bit...I moved up...she moved in. We were still locking eyes. I wanted to mouth, 'FUCK YOU' to the woman...but figured that A) That was too generic and B) this bitch did look bat-shit crazy to me... So I decided to pull an old, somewhat funny joke from way back in my brain...from my highschool back of tricks. I'm sure a lot of you did this across lunch rooms in high school when you were just beginning to realize how much a bro you were...you probably, at some point in your high school career, locked eyes with an ugly girl across the room, and mouthed the words "Olive Juice" ... then laughed it up with your bros. If you didn't do that...and it sounds really gay...fuck you. So...I did that...oh, I guess I should explain for those who don't know...when you mouth those words...it looks like you're saying I love you. Only it's for some reason funnier than if you'd actually said that.

SO. I mouthed Olive Juice...to that ugly woman...I did it real slow, and made sure she could see me. What'd she do? First...she stuck her cig in her mouth and gave me a big, fat, greasy middle finger. THEN...taking advantage of the space that had been created between me and the car ahead of me in the time it took me to fuck with her. She drives UP on the sidewalk for a second, then bounces down into the lane in front of me. WOW. I Hate that woman. She was the ugliest thing I've ever seen...and all I wanted to do was dilligaf her. I guess I did...since I made her get up on the curb...made her look insane to everyone who was watching...I'm sure the guy behind me would have let her in. But even though I hate her...between her flicking me off and her driving over the sidewalk just to best me....I can't help but think that if she weren't so ugly...and had been lucky enough to have been born with some balls...she may have been a bro - in another life.

I'm done. Pretty much. I just want to share another little anecdote from that same drive. I'm about five miles away from that dilligaf with the ugly lady. She's no longer in front of me. There's yet ANOTHER SUV trying to get out of a parking lot. My initial reaction is to MAKE SURE I win this won...and I was ALL ready to do it, until I took a look at the dude in the car. First. He was driving the same kind of SUV that I drive...and I liked that. Next...I noticed that this guy was in a sports coat, looking pretty professional...but was also listening to some kind of 80s music I couldn't quite make out, but he was rocking out pretty hard in that car. Next...I SWEAR TO GOD I saw this guy look both ways...duck his head down low, and swig what was apparent to me to be a beer. Needless to say...I was WOWED by this bro. It was SO obvious that he was a bro that I just let him in - we exchanged 'thank you' and 'you're welcome' waves...and I think we both knew why I let him in, and it can be summed up in the most important five words of our glorious English language : BRO HARD OR BRO HOME.

Perpetually Dilligafing,

- Bronest.

Throwing Curveballs #1- The Joker is a BRO

Well, bros, it appears that your boi is just filled to the brim with bullshit this week, as the lying continues. As I mentioned yesterday, my intention was to write about why skiing is mega-bro. However, as I lay in bed last night, dreaming about beating up nerds, throwing empty whiskey bottles against walls, and smashing rare art over my knee, divine inspiration came to me. Yes. Me. Vic Mackey. Once that happened, I knew the skiing post would have to wait for another day.

I legitimately don’t know how the idea for this post came to me. I’m not a big superhero guy. Not into comics. I think Superman likes smoking pole and tossing dude-salad. But, for some reason, last night Batman and his arch nemesis, the Joker, popped into my head. Now, out of all the “superheroes”, Batman is probably the most bro; but that’s like winning a game of darts against a bunch of blind guys. Superheroes are straight up weenies. Batman doesn’t have any powers, so he just kicks people’s asses by outsmarting them. He operates at night. He’s rich as fuck. Those are all pretty bro characteristics. But when you compare him to his nemesis, the Joker, he looks like Chumpzilla. Before I tell you why, let me just list off some things that Bros really love:

Blacking out
Destroying shit
Swearing
Stealing
Lying
Cheating
Vandalizing
Gambling
Creeping
Offending People/Pissing People Off
Being sarcastic and cracking inappropriate jokes
Banging chicks

I think you know where I’m going with this, but you might not know exactly how I’m getting there. Clearly, all of those things would appeal to a sociopath such as The Joker. Does that mean us bros are sociopaths? Well, yes, some of us are. But on the whole, not really.

Really, what all of those activities have in common is that they are all geared towards achieving one thing, and the picture below will tell you what that one thing is:



Yes, now you see. The Joker, much like a true bro of this world, is an agent of chaos. When you watch “The Dark Knight”, you can’t help but notice that The Joker really doesn’t give a fuck about the money, or the power, or the fame. He doesn’t care about getting caught, or that people think he’s a fucking weirdo. All he cares about is fucking shit up, wreaking havoc wherever he can, and letting the haters of the world deal with his mess. It’s all about the chaos.

Similarly, while us bros DO enjoy drinking and DO enjoy offending people, the main goal is to make sure people fucking remember us long after we leave. That people are left to clean up the shattered pieces of whatever locale we have recently obliterated. Sure, chanting about abortion in the middle of a respectable restaurant is fun and hilarious; but the real allure to actions such as that is that every bro involved knows that, long after he has left, people will be talking about him. Whether they speak good or bad about the bro is irrelevant; in fact, I bet you that a bro would rather people talk shit on him long after he has left… because that means that they are fucking jealous of how much of a bro he is.

And you know why else The Joker is a bro? It’s because he is diametrically opposed to everything Batman stands for. And Batman stands for some pretty lame shit. Like order, and peace. The Joker probably isn’t even that bad a guy; however, he sees how much he can piss off a tight-ass like Batman, so he does everything in his power to make the winged fruitcake mad. And that is fucking funny.

So as I am apt to do, my brethren, I will leave you with some advice. This weekend, while you are out slamming beers and smashing out some fresh vaj, channel your inner Joker. Be an Agent of Chaos. Be a fucking Bro.

Have a good weekend.

Quick Hitter of the Day

I laughed at this headline. I am a bad person. But I don't care:

"Tsunami swept away 4-year-old son"

I didn't watch the video that came with the headline, because it's probably depressing. Here's a quote from it apparently:

The boy's last words before the tsunami: "Mama, the world is about to end!"

Nope. Just for you, kid. Shouldn't be living in Chile if you didn't want to get swept away by a Tsunami.

God I'm going to hell.

Mega Bro Post Part 2: Weekend Recap Day Two

Alright Bros, I think the trend of this week is “lying”, because I am going to renege on my desire to never half-ass any post. That’s right, I am half assing the other half of my weekend recap because I want to save up most of the material for tomorrow’s missive of the bro sport of skiing. I think you know where my vote on the current poll will go, by the way.

In any event, here are the highlights of the second day:

-Me feigning concern over the tsunami in Hawaii because I was concerned that Lost would have to stop filming there. Yes, I like Lost. Fuck you if you think I’m a worse bro because of that.

-Stomping very basic tricks like grabs and spread eagles and then pretending like we just pulled off a Johnny Mosely-esque mogul/aerial run for the Gold Medal. Applause from the chair lift follows.

-Making fun of a stuck moose in the woods/telling some knobs below the chairlift that we wish we knew the male moose mating call so that the stuck moose (presumably a female because a bro moose would never get stuck) would charge them and kill them.

-Drinking at the peak of the mountain and then almost injuring ourselves afterwards because we were already still drunk from the night before.

-Me blacking out HARD after drinking all day and creeping at the bar, buying (this is from someone else’s account of events) 5 shots in the span of 5 minutes after uttering “I really want to avoid blacking out tonight”. Stupid me. Why would anyone ever try to avoid blacking out?

-Waking up with blood on my hands and a nose that felt as though the moose face fucked me in the middle of the night. Finding out that it was from my bro throwing me across the room and me landing on my face. Jesus, blacking out is fun.

-And finally, just to summarize something that I don’t think I expressed here yet: me and my bros are far from being joke skiers. We were rolling with 6 bros, and I’d say that 5 of us bros (yours truly included) were among the top 10% of skiers, skill-wise, there. You see, this is what bros do. We act like fucking animals and clowns, but then we kick everyone’s ass that looks down upon us. Nothing better than seeing some uppity bitch sneering at us in the lift line as we talk about killing each other’s moms, and then following her around screaming DILLIGAF before blowing her off the slopes. Domination.

-I did not ski on Sunday because my body was ravaged. I did, however, buy a new pair of skis. I now own 2 pairs of skis, and that is fucking smarmy.

We are already planning a bigger, more bro trip for next year. See, bros, I have graduated from college. And, while it sucks that I can’t go to a rager every single weekend, it’s not all bad. Because, now that me and my bros have jobs, we can step up our bro-games. We stay in nicer places instead of cramming 10 dudes into some shitty Motel 6 hotel room. We can throw stacks of money around like we are Kid Cudi (even though we really aren’t). And we can do sweeter things like ski, gamble, and offend every single person around us on the reg.

With all that said, bros, I better get back to “work”. While I’m sure I won’t get anything productive done today, I’m betting that they’re not paying me to blog about killing my friends’ moms, threatening non-bros with moose mating calls, and getting a bloody nose while blacked out. Not like I care, but at least I can justify my laziness today. Check in tomorrow as I detail the best aspects of the great sport of skiing. Until then, here’s a beer for you:



Just kidding. If you got excited for a Zima, then you clearly also like Dungeons and Dragons, fruitcake.

Thoughts on blacking out...the Bro way.

Now...we've all blacked out. One of the funniest things I ever hear is when you have to get a physical from the doctor and he asks you if you booze...then he invariably asks if you've ever blacked out...as if the first question didn't answer the second. You'd think he'd know from looking at me that I'm a bro, and that yes, doc, I black out on the regular. Maybe it's my fault though, I really tone down my bro in the doctor's office, because I don't want to hear all his fucking 'science' about how I'm killing my body. I know that counts against me in my bro win/loss column, but I've got enough wins.

So...point made - Bros black out. Hopefully...for all of your sakes, and my own, bros don't get THIS blacked out :

...That picture...I struggle with whether or not it's even humane to expose you to it...but shit, you're bros, you can handle it.

"So the fuck what, Bronest?" You must be asking, "Yeah, we're bros...and we black out...so what, tell me something I don't bro!" Okay, okay, shit - this post isn't about 'blacking out' in itself...it's about how to handle your blackouts better, it's about putting your blackouts into prospective. I'm here to help bros the world over, to give you some insight into yourself, and your/our ways as bros.

Now, the inspiration from this post came from this weekend. While Vic was fratting his face off up north, I was still bumming around the capital of the free world with some of our favorite brostars. Needless to say, it was a huge night. It might rank as one of my quickest blackouts ever...and it DEFINITELY ranks as the most complete blackout I've ever had. And when I use the word 'complete' I mean that this wasn't a brown out, it was a black out...and when I use the word 'complete' I mean that it wasn't like your normal black out where there's at least ONE bro who remembers what the fuck happened. Not this time. Every single one of us had no idea what happened in the morning.

The next day when everyone started checking their bank balances...we came to the strange realization that we'd cumulatively spent upwards of 300 dollars. There were only four of us, the bar we were at wasn't especially smarmy, and we'd done the majority of our drinking (or so we thought) at the apartment. I think I speak for all four of us when I say I only remember having two drinks at the bar before blacking out, and after that....who knows??

Obviously, this dampened spirits a bit...for a moment and nothing more. Now...if a bunch of puss-ass non-bros had racked up that bill, they'd probably either shit...or laugh about how fucking out-of-characterly crazy they got. Bros do none of the above...there may have been some chagrin over the amount spent in the backs of our minds...especially when you consider that bar tabs like this are pretty much a weekly thing, but we weren't all that concerned about that. Mostly...we wondered why the fuck we didn't get more booze...if we'd spent that much money. Did we get DILLIGAFED by the bar? Did they see us jack that wine...that girls coat? Did we dilligaf the bar wench? What happened? All these questions are great for bros...we love plot, we love stories...but throughout this experience I've learned a lot about bros, blacking out, and bros when they black out.

For all the bros who are still fratting hard in dormitories, frat houses, and campus apartments... The real world black out is much different...especially when you're with such a small crew. When you're at school and you black the fuck out...there are all kinds of people who you know you may have run in to here or there...any girl you could have dilligafed will probably make you hear about it later. Blacking out in the real world...at a bar full of strangers...with only three of your bros...all of whom blacked out hard, leaves the morning a strange mystery. That will never be solved. I can't remember a black out when I was at school that didn't eventually become resolved...all the memories I couldn't make were related back to me eventually.

Not so this time. So it was a great opportunity for me to observe the bro in this scenario, study our reactions...and learn more about the BRO and his unique life perspective. .... .... ..... ....... ............. "BRONEST! TELL US!"

HA! Don't worry...I'll feed you, baby birds.

Now, I've talked a lot on this blog about the sacrifices bros make on a regular basis for their elevated social status. We've got to deal with friends who would both die for us, but would relish in the opportunity to drive us just shy of suicide. We've got to deal with non-bros and all their silliness...we've got to deal with hippies and hipster kids who think they've got something figured out. We've got to deal with the civilians in bars who look at us and think there's no method to our madness and that we are just animalistic, barbaric and primitive. As I mentioned in most recent BRO DON'Ts addition : BROS DON'T WHINE - some bros can't take all of this. They stress about the way they are perceived by people who don't matter - they have no understanding of sacrifice for a greater good.

But bros? We have a fervor about us - a strange passion for nights like the one above described that's something like a drag racer...only we don't have brakes, and none of that fucking pussy parachute shit in the back. We all know it. That acceleration an evening can take...the way binges seem to speed up and speed up until what you see is blurry, and then the g-force takes you down and it goes black. We love that - we hate the idea of taking a weekend slow, or even an average day. That's something that ALWAYS fascinates me about bros...one of my favorite things is to introduce two brostars who I know well individually, but don't know each other very well. They could not have anything in common other than their broness...they could have completely different personalities, but the ONE thing that is ALWAYS common ground is this obsession with acceleration...the piling on and piling on and piling on of booze, words, stories, experiences and experiences until the whole thing just spills over and you wake up in your own vomit...or piss.

Okay...okay...I know I'm rambling. You think I've gotten off track...because I started talking about sacrifice, then just rambled about with some gay shit about how bros like to 'accelerate' ??

Ok...so I'll try to break it all down...I'll try to be as brief as possible...and I'll make sure you leave this post with an intrigued shrug...and I'll make sure that the next time you're out with your bros, you'll think about this blog - and laugh.

The average bro recognizes the general monotony of every day life...we don't get as excited about stupid office drama and gossip as the nerdy chicks and the civilian non-bro dudes get. We don't obsess over celebrities and their personal lives. We look at things and decide how to make them better. Examples?? One day long ago...a BRO had a beer...but he wanted something better...so he dropped a shot into it. One day long ago...a BRO who loved binge drinking wanted to make chugging beer more of a spectacle...so he bought a goddamn funnel and a hose. One day long ago...a bro was at a keg in a frat house...a girl asked him to fill her cup...he said she could only drink beer if she grabbed the edges of it, and let his bros pick up her legs and drink straight from the tap. One day long, long, long ago...a Bro was banging some girl, but before he got down to it, he thought to himself, "Hey...what's good with that mouth? What's up that backdoor?"

These examples are everywhere - seek and ye shall find, my bros.

Bros sacrifice perky Monday mornings for a blazing inferno of weekend belligerence.

Bros sacrifice the deceptive comforts of one-dimensional friendships borne from convenience for a maddening crowd of outrageous bros who'll take us to the edge of insanity, hold us there just long enough until our faces turn blue - whip us back around, punch us in the face...then pick up our bar tab.

Bros sacrifice the petty luxuries of general anonymity for the grind and the challenge of momentary glory, intermittent euphoria, and everlasting pride.

The above paragraph can be boiled down to yet another glorious addition to the BROS DON'T List : BROS DON'T SETTLE. We don't. We don't settle for one shot or six, we don't settle for one beer or twelve, we don't settle for mediocre interpersonal relationships that add nothing to our ever-lengthening lists of epic BRO shit that we've done. We don't settle for moderately-paced nights that are easily shrugged off and left to fester in that garbage-heap corner of our memory banks. We don't settle for self-conscious whispering, slumped shoulders or gelatin spines. We don't settle...we don't.

Now...anyone who knows me, and as you readers will come to know and appreciate - I'm long-winded like the diameter of Katrina...but I'll always bring you back around to the eye.

So...what have we established? A) Bros black out...hard B) We do anything to take an experience to another level C) Bros don't settle for anything that's not worthy of relating in the never-ending halls of celestial brodom and...most importantly D) Bros are NOT your average person...when it comes to blacking out, or anything else.

An unamed non-bro recently told a brostar we know that he just didn't "GET" why this brostar and all his friends were so outrageous...he said he didn't get why they just couldn't go out and have a quiet, normal night, where they didn't scream, where they didn't dilligaf the public, where they could just make it through the night without drawing any attention to themselves, without...I guess you could say, 'acting out.' This brostar...he said what's really the best thing/only thing a bro could say in response to such an outrageous, infuriating query: "If you don't get it...then you don't get it." Exactly. The above mentioned non-bro...he settles...his weeks are probably not too different from his weekends. A lot of people would NOT like to categorize themselves that way - but if there's even a question, it's probably true. Just because you go out and get drunk on the weekend doesn't mean you really do anything differently. Even if you black out occasionally, it doesn't exactly cut it. This blog, and bros in general, don't glorify binge drinking for the mere sake of it, drinking doesn't mean you're a bro - it's the attitude with which you booze.

THE (REAL) WRAP UP

. . . Don't get caught up with people who don't seem to understand you and your bro-ways. Understand that they don't get you, and you don't get them. They don't get how you could rock out with such a reckless abandon, and you don't get out anyone on Earth could settle for being so boring so regularly. They don't get that even though you feel like total shit at work on Monday, it was worth it - they don't get that when you rack up an egregious bar tab and don't even remember drinking...it was worth it. Bros are tall peaks, huge spikes, and they're flat-lines...non-bros hover melancholic and mediocre just below the horizontal axis, occasionally peaking up across into relevance like a whale gasping for breath. And for any non-bro that may stumble across this site, remember this : I am Ahab . . . so you better keep holding your breath.

Mega Bro Post Part 1: Weekend Recap Day One

Alright bros, before you whip out the pitchforks, lighter fluid, and *shudder* Mike’s Hard Lemonades and burn me at the stake, realize that it was not my intention to lie to you when I said this post would be coming yesterday. I’ve made a promise to myself and to the readership that I wouldn’t half-ass a post if I didn’t feel like putting 100% into what a write. And yesterday, there were far too many distractions (porn and beer).

Ok, I see I have calmed your seething anger; now, prepare for another admission of guilt. This post isn’t so much about my weekend ski trip with the bros as it is about the very bro-activity of skiing. Well, actually THIS post is. But I’m splitting it into 2 parts. Today will be part 1, which is my weekend recap. It isn’t anything hugely epic, but it has some entertaining elements. Part 2 is the real gem, where I outline how exactly to be a ski bro. Because, believe it or not, strapping on a couple faggy Dynastar skis does not in and of itself make you a bro, Bro.

With that bullshit out of the way, let’s get into it, shall we?

Vic’s Ski/Boozecation Part One

The first thing I had to do to ensure an enjoyable time for me (because it’s always all about me, me, ME) was to take an EXTRA long weekend (meaning taking both Friday and Monday off). Because I am a savvy vet at this point, I know that taking the Monday off is absolutely clutch because, whether I booze or not on the Sunday of my trip, I know I will still be recovering from the punishment of at least the previous 2 days.

You don’t need to know a whole lot about the travelling, but we were heading to the New England area and there was a crippling weather system standing in our way. But we’re bros, and we fucking planned this trip 2 months ago, so fuck mother nature in her loose snatch… we’re going skiing. I kid you not bros, God himself, the biggest bro of all, must have had a boner for watching us shred and booze, because there was (no joke) a penis shaped strip of calm weather that sliced through the pussy lips of this so-called crippling storm. I know this paragraph had a sensory overload of sexual imagery and innuendo, but I don’t give a shit. You’re a bro, so you can handle it.

In any event, we got up to the mountain on Friday morning, much earlier than even our most optimistic goals would have placed us, and there was only one thing to do: ski. Just kidding, there were 2 things to do. 1) Ski, but before that, 2) buy an obnoxious amount of booze for afterwards. Bros don’t subscribe to societal norms for when it’s acceptable to buy beer and liquor, so you have to believe we weren’t flinching as me and my bro stepped into the booze store at 9:30 AM to buy 2 racks and 2 jugs of wine. We also didn’t flinch when we asked for directions to the liquor store. At 9:45, we were purchasing vodka, whiskey, rum… you know, survival fuel.



We were joined shortly thereafter by 2 Boston Bros, and we were on the slopes by 11. I’m not going to lie, bros, lesser men would have folded under the conditions we were skiing in. Blowing ice pellets to the face, 18 inch powder, visibility of about 20 feet. But we are not normal humans. We are demi-gods. Therefore we were skiing through the snow with jousts sticking out of our ski pants, because this fucking weather would make any bro excited.

Let’s fast forward to the post-skiing festivities. I will get into this a little bit more later, but part of the allure for ski bros is that drinking is so much a part of the culture that it is just naturally assumed that if you’re a dude (who likes nailing chicks) under the age of 30, who likes to ski, you’re going to do as much drinking as skiing on your trip. Now, it just so happened that we got a very bro condo for this trip, complete with an absolute staple for any fratty trip: a hot tub and sauna. As I discovered the next day, slamming frat sodas in the sauna will get you absolutely MANGLED in half the time because you are doubling up the dehydration process. BRO.

But in any event, we started smashing beers by 4, and by 7, we were all pretty drunk. Now, even the most drunktaceous bro needs to put some solid food in his system in order to avoid death, so we realized we needed to eat. But, because there was a fucking blizzard outside and we were, you know, in the mountains, we couldn’t just be lazy assholes and order delivery (OF COURSE we didn’t plan ahead by buying food with our booze. What do you think we are, gay?) So we did what any self-respecting bro would do. We piled into a car and had our friend DUI to a very bro restaurant. In the blizzard. Drunk decisions=infallible decisions.

Afterwards, we came back to the cond-bro. Because there was a blizzard outside, the bars weren’t exactly going to be hopping tonight, and the other half of the bros that would be on the trip were still trying to make it that night. They clearly hadn’t planned ahead like the dudes that had already completed the trip. One of the bros, let’s just label him as the “Asshole Most Likely to Get Stuck in a Blizzard and Die” drove up by himself. Well, he’s a bro, but he’s a foolish bro, so he completely relied on his GPS (one of the many reasons bros should rely on their own instincts instead of a stupid machine). This GPS took the shortest route, mileage-wise, possible. A road that, in the middle of the Summer, would have shaved off maybe 3 minutes from his trip. A road that, in the winter, is nothing more than a garbage chute into getting your car jammed into a snow bank. Long story short, he did end up getting stuck in a snow bank with no cell phone reception. My friends, once again God was smiling on a bro, because luckily for my friend, there just so happened to be a guardian bro-angel that lived on that street.

This guardian bro-angel, we’ll call him “Kevin” (because that’s actually his name), was a fucking BRO. My friend walked about a mile in the snow and knocked on his front door. Kevin opened the door and was visibly drunk. Our friend entered and asked to use his phone to call us. He called us, and once he assured us that he wasn’t going to die in a snowpile and that we shouldn’t come get him because we’d just get stuck too, we immediately went back to drinking and making fun of him on our email chain. Once the option that our bro will die is gone, it’s like a trigger goes off to absolutely tear him a new asshole… because kicking a bro while he’s down is one of the broiest things you can do. Like sharks smelling blood. Time for a feeding frenzy.

But in any event, Kevin recognized that our friend was a bro and that, most likely, if he drove our friend home, we’d reward him with Bro-mana… aka beerzzzz. So he took our friend in his big man-truck and drove him through the blizzard. Now, what I’ve forgotten to mention is that 1) Kevin was drunk when our friend met him, 2) had dozens of empty Molson cans in his truck, and 3) drank as he drove our friend back. When we met Kevin, we suspected he was even drunker than we were. So naturally we kept feeding him beers. He had about 6 more beers in the hour that he shot the shit with us. And then we sent him back out into the elements, wishing him safety in his journey home.

Was Kevin indeed blacked out? Yes, he sure was. For you see, Kevin worked at the resort we were skiing at and we saw him in the lodge the next day. Naturally, we greeted him with fist pumps and high-5s. And he definitely didn’t recognize us for a good 15 seconds. Clearly, this was a man who went through the night before with vague images of what was going on and eventually pieced together some semblance of what happened; he did ask if our friend ended up getting his car towed, to which we answered “Fuck if we know”. Bottom line is I doubt Kevin can even read. But Kevin, if you are out there and find this site, I have something to tell you: We salute you, bro, because we didn’t have to stop drinking to pick up and bail out our bro. THANK YOU.

Well, I’m only one day into this trip, and this post has already gotten rather hefty. So therefore, I’m going to stop here and finish recapping the trip tomorrow. I’d actually say the second day highlights trump the first day’s, so prepare to be entertained. Turns out this is actually going to be a 3 day post.

Weekend Recap Coming Tomorrow

Hey Bros,

Sorry I haven't posted in a week, but I've had a lot of shit going on, including an epic bro ski trip this past weekend. Tomorrow's post will be girthy, so I promise it will be worth the wait.

Wait, what? You're still pissed off that I haven't posted in a week???

Hey look at this!

U! S! A! ... B! R! O! ... U! S! A! ... B! R! O!

Now...MOST bros...they love the olympics. Now, I say 'most' and not 'all' bros because for whatever reason, not every bro gets that into them. In a way I understand that, and in a way I don't. See...I feel like the bros who don't watch the olympics probably never watched them, so they don't really have that same awe for them as those bros among us who grew up watching them have. And, surely there are many bros who'd rather just be out bar-hopping, boozing, dilligafing the world and so on. Obviously...I applaud that. What's hard for me to understand is how any bro could fail to recognize how just...fucking purely BRO so much about the olympics really is. Take the US beating, (crushing) Canada the other night in hockey for example. Now...I witnessed that game from a couch while sucking on a bottle of whiskey like it was the last titty I'd ever get to touch. And let me tell you...those dudes were broing their fucking faces off...

- Now...to me that looks like a bunch of bros celebrating a new keg stand record...or the fact that one of them just went balls deep in somebody's sister. That picture reminds me of a bunch of bros back from an especially impressive performance at the local bar. It's the most classic of bro moments, the kind of moments when bros have a rare look at themselves, and just how badass it is to be a bro. Now, I doubt I need to say this, but I am of course, not talking about women's hockey...I'm talking about U.S. Bros Hockey. I'm not going to talk about the score, because you should already know...and even if you don't, all you really need to be aware of is that we won. I'm not a sports journalist...I write about bros - so I'm not going to talk about the game in particular...it's just an example of how BRO the olympics can really be.

Another bro star from these olympics? Obviously...Bode Miller. Now, Bode Miller is a notorious bro. At the last winter olympics...he didn't win any medals, but when asked how he felt about the olympics he replied, "It's been good. It's really cool to party at an olympic level." Wow, Bode...baller. This time around, I guess he decided to win some medals too, and he's been kicking ass the whole time - and yes, bros, I'm sure he's still boozing hard.

Now...you may be wondering what's so BRO about the olympics besides just these two amazing examples. A ludicrous question, but a question nonetheless. Of course, I couldn't list off every thing that I find brocinating about the olympics, but it's not about anecdotal evidence, it's really just about the olympics themselves. If there's one thing bros do...it's play to win. Bro Hard Or Bro Home, remember? Now, people like to spout off about sportmanship and stuff like that...and well...while that's all well and good, we all know that what the olympics is really about is a bro (most likely from the United States) getting a chance to stand up on a podium with a medal around his neck and look out at everyone who lost and say, "I'm better than you, bro, and I know it." Not to mention the fact that the national anthem is...as Vic put it so eloquently to me in a text message recently:

Vic: "National Anthem: Frattiest song ever...period."

So bros...go get yourself a thrity rack...or a bottle of booze, and sit back and drunkenly take these olympics in while they're still on. And if you hear some non-bro asshole at work talking about how he couldn't watch because there was an episode of 'Grey's' or 'Desperate Housewives' on...take a sip of that spiked coffee, and revel in your brodom.

Bros Setting Themselves Apart #1

Alright, fuckheads. I've been posting on BHOBH for about 2 weeks now, and I still don't have a calling-card recurring topic. So I've decided that I will start doing that, right here, right now.

And the irony of my first entry into this ongoing series of posts is... that I myself am engaging in exactly what this topic discusses.

But before I get into the semantics of today's activity, I want to explain the purpose behind these posts.

Non-bros actually do a lot of the things that us bros do. I know, I am as shocked as you are at hearing these words. Unfortunately, they DO hang out at bars. They DO watch bro sports like football. They DO occasionally have sex with females (and each other, zingaahhh). But you know why us bros are better than them? Because we do all of those things; we do them better; and we do things that their puny non-bro brains can't even fathom.

And the first such activity that I'd like to discuss is: Sunday Drinking.

Now, listen bros. I just want to get this out of the way early on. It took me many years to realize the merits of Sunday Drinking. Even when I was in college, I used to use Sundays to recover from the weekend and to prepare for my classes. Little did I know back then that Sundays were actually the most underrated day for getting smashed.

I now have a job and I am proud to say that I always show up to work on Mondays looking and smelling like a homeless guy who got owned by some other bro (smashing me over the head with a bottle of Evan W). Now, it's hard to explain exactly why Sunday boozing is so goddamn appealing. But here's my theory:

Everybody hates Mondays. Everybody hates Mondays-Thursdays, in fact. But because Mondays are the most hated day of the week, I feel like everyone understands if you want to get some liquid courage before ass-fucking the work week. In addition, we are quick to forget that Sundays are part of the weekend too. Meaning we should use the day to do whatever the fuck we feel like doing. And you know what you feel like doing (if you're a bro)? Binge drinking.

Now, why does Sunday Drinking set us bros apart from the spineless newts, aka non-bros? Because those pussies are simply too afraid to engage in it. They want to get an "A" in class participation on Monday. They want to put together a nice inventory report for their boss on Monday. They legitimately think that showing up to work or school sober will get them ahead in life. Us bros know the opposite to be true. We know that, by chugging frat sodas, watching Predator for the 6 millionth time, and rooting on US Olympians we've never heard of, we are actually the ones getting ahead. Because in the end, that's really all that counts. In essence, it is the perfect embodiment of the DILLIGAF life style. And, if you are confused by this foreign term "DILLIGAF", allow the below video to enlighten you. So enjoy that, and crack open your 13th Miller Lite. There's Sunday Drinking to do:

An Addition...BROS.

- DILLIGAF

hey.......BROS!!!!

Bronest here - and I've been doing like Bronest does...boozing and contemplating the 'BRO.'

Now...this post is an addition to the 'Bros Don't' list - but this one is so epic that there's going to be an entire post dedicated to it. Are you ready, bros?? Are you??

Drumroll......

.....roll a little longer because you're a bro....

....roll a little longer because you're boozey.....

BROS DO NOT WHINE.

I want you to ask yourself...bros...is there a 'bro' in your crew of broheems who always seems a little more sensitive then the rest? Is there a bro in your group of friends who just doesn't seem as comfortable with the way the rest of you comport yourselves? Is there a bro amongst you whom you almost feel nervous around...because you never quite know if you're going to offend him or not?

Unfortunately...this is an issue for many bros across the country and the world. A lot of bros seem to feel like every joke, every action, every DILLIGAF would just go much more smoothly if one particular bro wasn't so sensitive...if maybe he wasn't so prone to lashing out because he feels hurt by something. For the lucky bros who have no clue what I'm talking about...let me tell you...this is tragic. FUCKING...TRAGIC. This scenario is tragic like Katrinia, or 9-11...it's devastating like an indo-asian tsunami...it's crushing like a hatian earthquake. Need I go further? Bros...this is rough.

Now, I feel your pain, bros. Basically, if you're finding yourself in this scenario...the first thing I would do would be to question the validity of your man's bro-card. But is that all there is to it? I'm not so sure, bros. See...some bros...they love the idea of being a bro...they love the idea of dilligafing the world at large, and they love the idea of just dominating every civilian with their brodom. The problem with some 'bros' ? ...They're not necessarily ready to pay the price for such a prestigious standing in society. See...because a bro...he's got to be ready to fuck with all of his bros...and all of his bros are going to fuck with him non-stop. Is this because we don't like our fellow bros?? BULLSHIT. We LOVE our fellow bros...which is why we fuck with them...because we know...(I wonder how many times I'll reiterate this point throughout this blog)...that BROS are the one's who run the world. Pussies can't do it. And so it falls on bros to change the human universe. And so we fuck with our bros, just to prep them for the struggles to come. Here's an example of a text conversation I just had with a bro-hero of epic proportions :

ME: "Well, catch the fuck up you bone smuggling, ass eating, cock gobbler!"

BRO: "Now...that's just offensive."

ME: "Yeah, well...tell it to your priest while he fucks your ruby star fruit."

BRO: "Actually, bro...my priest is the catcher."

Just...I mean, I'd analyze that for you...if this weren't a blog for bros. So there's no need for me to explain the fact that this is classic bro-banter.

The point!!!????? BROS...they can handle mad offensive...sick shit like that. A non-bro?? He would've told me how uncool it was to rip on his religion...he would have told me how amoral it was to make a joke about pedophilia. But a bro understands that the world has no such morals, and in order to dominate it, you must be able to rock back and bust nuts just as fat. So...for all the bros out there who have an overly-sensitive bro in your group of friends...ask him to verify his broitude...either by boozing in public outside a church on a Sunday afternoon...or just rip on him over and over until he either cries, renounces his brohood...or comes back at you and tells you all the ways he'd love to rape and murder your mother. In the first scenario...you weed out a posing bro. In the second...you bring a bro through broberty and into adulthood.

So good job, bros.

"Dad, When I Grow Up, I want to be a Bro... like you"

Want to know who said the above quote? My son. And he knows what the fuck he's talking about.

Now, before you shit yourself because you just discovered that a dude writing for a blog that espouses the degradation of pretty much anyone that doesn't agree with a bro's world-view, rest assured that this son hasn't been born yet. But just know that, in 10 or so years, when I'm in my 30s, and my wife is a cool 21 and president of the Cheerleading Squad at DILLIGAF University, my 3 year old son will be uttering those very words.

That's goddamn fucking right. I am guaranteeing, right now, that my 3 year old son will be knowledgeable enough to understand that you either Bro Hard or Bro Home.

Now I understand that, up to this point, my sentence structure has left a lot to be desired. But this post right here might be the most important post I will ever write. So pay attention before I tea-bag your beer and then fuck your mom.

Every true bro on this planet knows that one of their biggest goals in life is to knock up the hottie that he will eventually marry and produce a bro-prodigy of his own. If you run into a "bro" who claims otherwise, one that would be "happy" with only daughters, then that "bro" is actually a "pussy in disguise". So feel free to punch him in the throat.

Let me clarify something. Your son, the future bro, does not have to emulate your every move. Bros are, after all, nothing if not trailblazers. Our bro ancestors used to spend their time conquering new frontiers, fighting fratty wars with bayonnets and fucking machetes, and had to drink their booze from bowling balls. We don't really do any of those things these days, but that's just evbrolution. Nowadays, we steal losers' frisbees and throw them on roofs, insult chicks from our porch while binge drinking, and throw kegs through windows. One version is not necessarily better than the other, for they both have merits.



You can sleep fine at night knowing that it's ok if you're not as lucky as me. And by that, I mean your mini-bro might not realize he's destined to be a bro by the time he's 3. It might take him until he's 6 and realizes that looking up girls' skirts is fucking awesome. Or he might not realize it until he realizes that obsessing over one's broner is the tits. But, let's say he gets to the age of 10 and loves art. And loves talking about his feelings. And respects others. Then you sir, have fucking FAILED. Turn in your bro card, cut off your dick, and die in an avalanche. Your kid is not a bro, so neither are you.

You're asking, "Well Vic, why is this such a bad thing? I'm a bro, isn't that enough?"

....



......




.........

FUCK NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You know why that's NOT ok? Because you just added another waste of life to the majority of our non-bro population!! Non-bros, as Bronest alluded to, are a fucking dime a dozen. They get in our way, don't buy booze (killing our economy), and whine about all the cool shit that we're not afraid to do. Does that sound like someone you want on this planet?? Because it doesn't to me.

Right now, as Bronest said, there's about 1 bro for every 30 non-bros. Do you want to know why the non-bros haven't risen up against us bros yet? It's because they know that the odds are STILL stocked in our favor. In fact, I'd say us bros could withstand about 75:1 odds. But let's say that, in 3000 years, there are 100 non-bros for every 1 bro.

My bros: that is basically extinction for us.



So basically, by raising a loser non-bro with a hairless chest, you are fucking over your current bros. And that means you are not a bro. Capiche?

Do your duty as a bro, lay pipe on a 10, have her pop out a mini-dude. And groom that mother fucker into the Demi-God of a man that you know yourself to be. Have some goddam pride.

AMEN

Excuse me...while I erupt.

Now...I wish this wasn't true, and on some ethereal level it really isn't...but at the end of the day, bros...well, we're human. What does that mean? Well, for most people, (non bros) it means that they have certain needs - like the need for food, or water, or oxygen. For most people, (non bros) it means they experience emotions...love, sadness, longing, etc. But for the bro? Basically our humanity stopped the second we came out of the womb. The moment we gushed out of whatever vagina it was...the very moment we burst forth to frat out the world amid a cascade of blood, mucus and afterbirth...amid painful screams and the nervous chuckles of our more-than-likely fratty fathers...THAT, my friends...my bros...my minions...is when we stopped being human. And thus...bros have a certain affinity for that day. In the same way we fondly remember the first time we crushed pussy back when girls would fake being drunk beforehand so they wouldn't feel so bad about it...we bros look back upon our entrance into the world with a certain, special something, that of course, leads us to booze, profanity, and a general domination of the public at large.

Of course...this is why bros love birthdays. Bros love birthdays because they provide us with an excuse to get truly fratastic, and spew bro goo onto every single face that presents itself. See...the average civilian...they don't even realize that even when to them a bro seems incredibly offensive...that bro...he's still holding back. Not for the good of the civilians, but for the good of his fellow bros a bro will often refrain from, say, boozing from an open container when there's a police officer around, or screaming at field trips from all-girls private schools who aren't even old enough to know what a bro actually is. But on one of their bros birthdays? Not at all.

This past weekend Vic, myself and a whole crew of unnamed bro-heroes descented upon a certain eastern city for a birthday. Now...I originally thought I'd regale you all with the stories from the weekend...I thought I'd describe in specific, epic, and mind-blowing detail the events of the night, so that you may lean back in awe, sigh to yourself and attempt to recreate the weekend for yourself sometime. But then I realized...that this isn't some bullshit blog or website that glorifies the debauch merely for the sake of doing so. No...this blog is about so much more...it's about BROS...it's about why we do the things that we do...it's about how we operate within this world we've been born into...and it's about how we make an attempt everyday to live better than the rest. With that in mind, I will merely focus on why bros love their bros birthdays...why we will go to great lengths to participate in the festivities, and why we truly do not give a fuck when they happen. Because like I said...the true bro...he never really gives a fuck...but honestly? On the average binge...even though the true bro is dilligafing so hard he makes civilians shit themselves - to his fellow bros...he's just being normal.

Bros are strange. Bros are not ordinary. Bros are not one-in-a-million...but I'd say we're at LEAST one in thirty, and that's without any exaggeration whatsoever...which was hard for me to do, haha. So...a bro is at least one in thirty...maybe one in fifty, but that's not what's important. What IS important is that we aren't the average dude you see walking down the street. The important thing is that there's a certain difference between us, the bros, and the average person milling about in the world. Now, most people...well...most bros...well...ALL bros realize they're not ordinary. From there I think that most bros, they probably think that what sets them apart is how hard they booze...how hard they DILLIGAF...how little respect they have for social norms and expectations. Are bros with the stated opinion wrong? Not really...but they're not entirely correct, either. See...those things are SYMPTOMS of brohood - they are not the condition itself.

Everything that bros do...they do it...in a strange way...in a way that may seem nonsensical to an outsider. I'm speaking of the fact that bros do things for the future, regardless of how impulsive the action or sequence of events is. Now, of course, I don't mean that anything bros do while boozey and celebrating is necessarily planned, it is, almost always entirely spontaneous. What I'm talking about is that almost every bro out there is looking to make some kind of impact - we like the idea of having our actions related later, when we're not around. We like the idea of 'legend' ... most bros, they've probably got some kind of favorite famous person or historical figure, (mine's Aaron Burr...I'll let Vic tell you about his sometime) bros have these kinds of idols because, as I said, we like the idea of legends, significant bros who did something people could talk about. And with that in mind...we rock out the hardest birthday celebrations you could imagine...because we're not just boozing in those moments to celebrate a birthday...we're boozing in those moments to show the random people who stare at us aghast on sidewalks and in bars that we're doing something they might not necessarily be capable of: Operating with a total disregard for the onlooker. And in doing so...we affect the onlooker more than anyone else ever really does. Basically...when a normal person, (non bro) goes out on a weekend night...they probably go out to dinner, go to a bar and booze a little, and then go back to their apartment. And even if they get really blacked out, and even if they bring a girl home (both of which are unlikely for the non-bro) they really didn't have an affect on anyone but a couple people.

When a bro goes out...when he decides to let completely loose on an occasion like a birthday, he affects the entire world around him. And when we ride home from bars on metro trains, taxis, or even on foot...bros will laugh out loud and smile, and they'll be laughing about all the people they just dilligafed...and they'll laugh because they know that in a way, they just made history. Bros LOVE relating stories to each other, and our favorite stories are the ones that affected people outside the group:

"Yo...I don't know if you remember this...but when we were waiting for a table at dinner I was standing next to the door way asking people, "hey...you got a reservation?? No?? Well then...you better fuck off...because we all HAVE a goddamn resi...and we're not seated."

or

"Dude, I couldn't stand the way that guy was looking at me...so I leaned into his girlfriend and asked her at what point it was that she realized she dating a bone-smuggler."

or

"When I got to that girl's apartment, I for some reason gave all her roommates the finger and screamed, "DILLIGAF""

So bros love celebrating because it provides us all with yet another occasion to make a little bit of history... anonymously. Really...it's all just preparation...because by the time we bros are getting gray...we'll be, what? Running the world...like bros have always done, and someone's getting the torch passed to them...and I guaran-fucking-tee you all that it's not the guy ordering fruit-tinis and telling random girls they have pretty eyes - no...minions...it's the bros, as always.

-Bronest.

I took Vic's cue from last tuesday and got pretty boozey tonight, except...unlike last wednesday...tomorrow's not going to be a day when the whole world is snowed in...shiiiiiit.

-DILLIGAF.

To Bro, or Not to Bro... That's Not Even a Question

Greetings, Bros. I'm Vic Mackey, and I am in the latter stages of a 10 day Boozcation.

Yes, friends. the Government is up and running tomorrow. They are operating with a delayed arrival and allowing for Unscheduled Leave.

For a non-bro, this presents a dilemma. Does one go in to put in one meaningless day of "work" aka waahing about the snow and having to catch up on work? Or does one utilize that little loophole that the Feds mistakenly put in the equation? Those two words "Unscheduled Leave".

Well, if I wasn't a bro, I might be inclined to join the rat race and spend hours of my precious time getting to work tomorrow. I might stay sober tonight and get a good night's sleep so I am well rested for the work day.

But I'm a fucking bro. And fucking bros don't play like that.

What I, a bro of extreme renown, did was inform my boss that I was going out of town this weekend and that coming into DC would be a tremendous hassle. Well, guess what, I am going out of town. But the town I'm going to is WASHINGTON DC! Because we're celebrating Bronest's birthday. Oh the irony. So pungent.

But anyways, that was the cap to your boy's Snowmageddon experience. And now, I will ramble a bit about how a bro survives multiple snowstorms.

Obviously your first step is to "stock up". That much is simple. It has also already been addressed, so I won't dive back into that one. Next, you must drink your stocked materials. Oh sure, you can take breaks, but just make sure that your breaks are only taken because you are on life support from liver failure. The bottom line is that, if they invented such a thing as "Snowstorms sans Booze", the world's suicide rate would be near 95%. Must. Drink. Constantly.

Third, sometimes it gets redundant to swill booze non-stop. I know, I know, radical claim. However, any true blue bro knows this to be true. So, for that reason, other paraphernalia comes into the picture. (Yes, that is the proper spelling and yes I had to google it because I mispelled it 6 times. What the fuck is that "r" doing there before "nalia" anyways?) Now, a lot of bros differ on their opinions of which type of "Booze Balancer" they like. For some bros, it's marijuana. For others, it's the other kind of snow. For me, it is dipping tobacco. I know, that's kind of pussy shit for a bro, but trust me, I've experienced the other kinds of 'nalia, and this one just suits me best.

Fourth, maintain constant access to pornographic materials. That's self explanatory, in my opinion.

Fifth, once cabin fever+being hungover sets in, you need an outlet for your frustration. Thus, "crush weights".

Sixth, if you're a true bro, you have a huge HD tv. So you watch it and you laugh at the reports of people crashing into trees.

Seventh, go outside to snap pictures of people who got owned by the snow. Like, for example, this picture I took 30 minutes ago:



So there you have it, bros. A quick handy dandy guide to drinking for 10 days straig- er, I mean, getting caught in a snowstorm. Have a good weekend.

-VM

Bros, booze, belligerence.

Hey, bros. Bronest Hemingway here.

Coming at you from an unidentified locale...Coming at you hard, and little boozey. Got a bottle of Jack that's currently getting to my face. (See, I'm a little classier than Vic's Evan W. SMARMED!) I was just drinking and reminiscing, and I started to remember those Geico commericals that had like some travesty happening, and then the dude is like, "But I DID just save a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to geico." I loved those commericals. Bros loved those commericals...they provied so many bros so many good jokes:

"Bro, you remember that old lady with big tits you introduced me to?"

"You mean...my mom?"

"That was your mom?"

"Yeah, dude..."

"Oh, well, I've got some bad news."

"What?"

"Nailed her...and I was balls deep...and I was raw-dogging it...and I dumped in her belly."

"WHAT!! WHY?? OH, NO! BRO!"

"But I do have some good news..."

"What?" Bro's crying.

"I did just save a bunch of money by switching to geico."

HA. Classic.

Well...Vic and I have a pretty big weekend ahead of us. I'm not sure if he'll get a chance to post before hand - I know this will be my last one until at least monday. Hopefully Vic will get on here and give you all some of his saucy wisdom before hand. But as for me...Bronest Hemingway will not be back around until a few days from now, at which time I'm SURE Vic and I will have lots of stories to share with you guys. Now, as all you bros know...you never can be entirely sure what'll transpire during a weekend packed with booze, bros and belligerence, but I DO have at least one or two things i cna promise you:

1) Every single thing will invovle booze

2) At LEAST one story will involve blood

3) At LEAST one story will involve offending innocent civilians

4) At LEAST one story will involve a physcial altercation with a non-bro pussy

5) At LEAST one story will involve a few chicks, and how we either hooked up with them, and THEN offended them deeply, or offended them deeply and THEN hooked up with them...or just offended them deeply for no fucking reason at all.

The weekend swiftly approaches my bros. Get up, get ready, get BOOZEY, get your motherfucking BRO on, and don't forget that if you're ever feeling too boozey, too hung over, or too tired...that you are BROS...and so you ride on. That's all I have to say...RIDE ON, bros. See you next week.

- BrrrrrrrrrOnest Hemingway.

Why Bros Hate Hippies

Hippies are lame. I mean, most people, they’d read something like that and think, ‘What an ignorant asshole! Doesn’t he know that hippies stand for peace, equality and love?’ Those people…dumb as rocks, and I’ll leave it at that. The first and main point I’d like to establish as a kind of through-idea throughout this post is that a hippie is the antithesis of everything bro. Am I calling bros war hawks, bigots and haters? No. Most war hawks, all bigots and all haters are fucking retarded (What’s good, Rahm E.?) and as I’ve established before, and will continue to establish and demonstrate throughout the existence of this blog, i.e. until the end of time, is that bros are smarter than everyone else... obviously that includes hippies.

So. We’ve established that bros are smart, and hippies dumb. ‘Why, Bronest,’ you ask me, ‘Why are hippies so dumb?’ Well I’ll tell you. First of all, hippies like to say they stand for peace and equality. The preceding sentence is chalk full of something bros like me like to call…(you guessed it, didn’t you?)…BULLSHIT. Hippies are disciples of the most elusive, repulsive and reprehensible forms of trendiness: One that’s entire premise is predicated upon the idea that it is not trendy. Fuck that. You know, I’m starting to think that maybe I should clarify something, throughout this post, when I’m using the term ‘hippie’ I’m talking about MODERN DAY hippies. So don’t come around spouting smarmy bullshit about how hippies started a social revolution in the sixties. REALLY!?! Yeah, I know.

The hippies I’m talking about are the kids on college campuses who sit around smoking weed looking like smarmy hipsters and who talk shit on the frat dudes playing intramural football and the athletes pounding booze at night. I’m talking about kids who wear shirts that say something like ‘I don’t have to pay for my friends.’ Really, hippie? Tell that to the girl who you buy weed for, but who never sucks your dick, because I’m telling you, dude, all she’s ever going to be is your friend. Now, what’s my issue with these kinds of hippies? Mostly, and to be honest, it’s the smarm. Hippies ooze with smarminess along with body odor and marijuana resin. Most hippies seem to have convinced themselves that it’s up to them to change the world…and most hippies think they’ll do this with an acoustic guitar. I have one question for these hippies, ‘HOW MANY FUCKING DAVE MATTHEWS BANDS DO YOU THINK THERE CAN BE!??’ Hippies LOVE to talk about how stupid bros are. Every bro knows this. Hippies can’t get enough of referring to bros as ‘dumb animals’ or some other similarly unoriginal insult. That might be my biggest problem with hippies, they’re SO unoriginal. ‘Now, what’s so original about a bro, anyway,’ you ask, ‘don’t bros pledge frats and play sports and follow the crowd?’ Now, some of the more open-minded hippies (very rare) might consider that to be a fair statement. It’s not. You think there’s any republican hippies out there? (I promise to NEVER get political on this blog, I’m just making a point.) No, there are not, because their hippie friends would disown them. You think there’s any hippies who oppose the legalization of marijuana? You think there’s any hippies that don’t like the acoustic guitar? Fuck no.

Now, I talk about hippie smarminess. Yet in almost all of our posts, and all of the posts we will ever write, we will expound upon and discuss and illustrate in detail the superiority of bros. Smarmy? Maybe, but I don’t think so. See, smarm…it sits, it ferments and it stews, like bong water or an un-flushed toilet…smarm sits there and just bubbles and tries to stink up a room. It doesn’t actually do anything. Smarm comes from convincing yourself you’re better than everyone else. A bro's feeling of superiority comes from proving it…on a goddamn daily basis.

Being a bro means that you grab life by the fucking horns and you ride it, and you ride it, and you RIDE it, and you sweat and you burn, and you booze, and you conquer…and then you booze. When’s the last time you saw a hippie sweat who wasn’t tripping balls with his shirt off twirling in a circle?? Being a hippie limits your chances of success…again, how many Jack Johnsons could there possibly be?? Being a bro increases your possibilities. Not to mention the fact that a lot of employers make you take a drug test to get a job…so I guess most hippies are waiting for full legalization to find a job?

Now, you might get the impression from the tone of this blog that I hate people who smoke weed, or that I hate weed itself. Wrong. Again, in my ability to see many sides of the same thing, I demonstrate my broness. Who hasn’t ripped a bong at a frat house? Who hasn’t ripped a joint with one of their bros? Not many, but that’s not the point. Again, the bro in this scenario demonstrates his superior outlook on life. A bro is just getting high and partying his face off…Hippies think that if they get high enough, they’ll change the world. Truth is, most hippies are just so high they can’t even figure out how to change their clothes.

I realized very shortly after starting this that this one might become a long rant. And as Vic mentioned in his first post, neither of us really think long diatribes have a place on this blog. So I’ll end it after the paragraph that follows.

Bros don’t like hippies because bros are out to accomplish – a bro has two big fears: 1) That he might not end up ruling the world, (this one is silly, obviously) 2) That he may not be able to booze while doing so, (again, silly, and unfounded). A hippie also has two big fears 1) That he might wind up pulling the ash through a bowl, and 2) Their dealer might be dry. That’s another funny thing about hippies, they all want to record an acoustic guitar album everyone is the world has already heard…but how many hippies do you know who actually even make an attempt at doing that? Maybe one, probably none. Hippies are smarmy at all times. Bros are better than everyone who isn’t a bro. There’s a big difference, and if you don’t get it, keep reading this blog.