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.

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.