mashup monday coming at you bro styles
Well, it’s a Friday night… know what that means? Well, if I was a normal, hip, cooluniversity student, I’d be going downtown, hitting the bars with various forms of my bros, homies, dudes, home-skillets, etc etc, and I’d probably belligerently drunk, screaming Counting Crows, Brown Eyed Girl, or some Great Big sea at the top of my lungs, all the while, my arms wrapped around some rando-biddie’s shoulder, lowering ever more slightly with the more drinks to that risque region where I would just be coddling her sweet, subtle affection of my young high school career. And yes, I realize that the previous sentence was possibly one of the longest sentences I’ve ever written, and possibly the longest written on tumblr by someone whom considers themselves somewhat apt at the English language, but I digress. Being of such a nature that I would be going downtown and glorifying the ideal of the ultimate university “bro”, it should come to you as a surprise that I am partaking in no such festivities. In fact, I must admit, that I mostly despise the downtown scene that is most frequented by one such as myself; these bars where the guys pop their collars, when polo is the shit, where douche bag means MASS amounts of win, where the ladies leave all inhibitions at home (I’m okay with this), where the women are all of the same “OMG I just made out with this boi and I am so ashamed” type OR of being the “I am just going to dance like a slut and hope some boy will tap me hard but he ain’t gettin’ none and I’ll be all sass and keep him coming but at the same time I won’t LOL.” Wait… wut?
So, those bars are out. I’m more of a “Hey, those guys are doing coke off the toilet seats and no one gives a shit” type of guy… not overly. I saw wayyyy too many kids doing drugs in my high school. Rich white kids using mommy and daddy’s money to throw coke bashes where there were more drugs than alcohol.
I just searched high school douche in google and that was on the front page. Sums things up pretty nicely though. Hollister/ Abercrombie, iphone self pics, all such cool bros they don’t even know what to do with their radiating coolness that their parents bought them so they do drugs like bosses.
So, maybe these grimy places aren’t for me either. Perhaps a more adult, sophisticated affair would better suit my tastes. After all, places such as those are often frequented by possibly the most delightful people you’ll ever meet: cougars/milfs. Man, nothing better than an older woman. she knows what she wants, she’s not afraid to take the lead, and she has no care for your needs an wants. Damn, I would love some kinky black latex shit with whips, and where she’d tie me up or something and dominate me like the experienced woman she is. Also, don’t read too much into that, prospective younger lady friends who may read this, I’m not a total weirdo (yes I am), and find some of these dominatrix things rather degrading (I love it). Thusly, any of you younger women want to attract me, all you have to do is act meek and vulnerable and I’m all yours (act like a champ who’s in control and I’ll go wild for you). Also, if you read those last few sentences with a complete straight face, I have bad news for you (not really).
So I guess Cougar Town ala Guelph is out of the question… I like to dance when highly intoxicated, so maybe I hit up the greasy, grimy, ultimate place for sweaty asses to bump and to possibly find true love… I’m talking ‘bout getting some serious grooves on and just going to town. Girls love a skinny white dude that can’t dance right? RIGHT?
How much swag I got on the d-floor. Aw yeah
So I guess dancing is out. Music? I’m pretty hipster in my music taste. Let’s go to the hipster place. Yo, proudbro, you coming? Well, let’s walk in. What’s that man? You’re sniffing the air? It smells like sweaty hippies? Alright, let’s not go there then. The girls are all probably crazy hipsters as well. No showers, no shaving, voluminous amounts of B-O. Besides, I’m not hipster enough to stand around listening to some local who hasn’t even held a guitar yet and everyone’s already known them for years even though the lead singer’s like 12. Like shit, that’s cool and all, but I can’t even groove when all the hippies get mad if I start bobbing my head to music- too mainstrem, I have to shake my baby finger on my left hand east to west every 3/8s of half a minute.
So maybe downtown’s not for me. Maybe I’m not bro enough. Maybe I don’t drink a lot. Maybe even when I do drink, I have to spend at least $150 at the bar to get drunk enough to dance or pick up (but, I don’t want to pick up downtown- the girls are often drunk and don’t know what they are doing and I am not into the whole meaningless sex thing- heck, I don’t like people really touching me unless I feel some sort of bond with them, be it in broship or some longer attraction). Maybe I should just start chugging pitchers if I want to do such silly things.
Beer sucks anyway. All I know is that I am not a downtown person, as I won’t pick up because of some higher moral code that dictates that I want love, not some fling (manly tears somewhat present although partially undermined by girly poofy blubbering), and the places downtown are really only awesome when I am too intoxicated to even care about the womens- I just wanna part-ay.
Also, I like to run and stuff. A complete university life style is not conducive to such endeavors. I also like to write. A lot. Not as much as I’d like, trying to learn various things (and by learn, I mean watch awesome youtube videos about life and the universe and shit like that, which I should try watching while endowed with the silliness of various illicit substances to make the experience that much more gratifying).
I know a lot of writers have been intoxicated while they’ve written some of their best work (Poe, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Thompson), but again, not so good for a log-term plan if I want to graduate school and continue to run a bit. Maybe later, I shall turn to the bottomless drink tank i hopes of finding thrilling adventures to place on my page.
Officer, I’m not as think as you drunk i am. I am just writting some stuff about cars being fast. BROOOOO. CHILLLL. Also, your mom’s hot.
I think life would be endlessly more entertaining if there were more hilariously drunk young writers out there. I already know hilariously drunk runners out there (screaming “It’s too easy” and “I can fuck every girl here” prove the hilarity of such runners (love you B)), but the world is lacking such fun loving and belligerent up and coming writers; Hemingways before their time. Woah, that’s heavy.
No idea what I just wrote. something about slaying dragons on a mythical platform floating through space at warp speed. or it was about bread. bread sounds about right. it’s as good an answer as any, so why not.
that’s not sexy…
It’s friday. This was the friday jam for me and my friend while we were in high school. Not going to say I missed highs school, but I will say I miss my friend.
It’s been five years man. Five long years without you. You were my best friend. I miss you man. In honor of the day and you, I am jamming out to all those old Disney classics you always wanted to watch when we hung out. We were so cool in high school… Yes, even Mulan (I only listened to Make a man out of you because… well, you know, have to have keep some face of my heterosexuality.
Damn son, that’s some loud shit goin’ on. Like damn gurrllllll you gettin’ it in! That’s good brah! Poor bead.
Headphones are my best friend… and a loud tv… and the foo fighters.
someone’s heaven really does burn like hell on someone else.
And damn, that was hot.
Round 4 or five… getting tired? Nawwww, that’s the spirit. Blast that Katy Perry and Hilary Duff. That’s some fine love makin’ songs right there. Although I could be wrong… wading through the sounds of torturous ecstasy would be hard, even for those pop-laden beats. … beats hard… he he he.
I don’t know to brofist them after or to be terrified… where have those hands been? I bet they were all over each others butts… yes. Groping butts, light slaps, grabs, and you-name-its. excellent.
No shame what so ever.
PS. MY INNOCENCE