It’s Sunday morning. Holy shit you guys got fucking plastered last night. For some reason there’s a park bench, two street signs and one of those big blue post office mailboxes in your #32 Bro Pad. After making like 10 jokes about how last night was exactly like “The Hangover” and sending out a mass text telling all your bros about the shit you #2 stole, you decide it’s time to get some fucking coffee. After throwing on your Juwan Howard Bullets #34 throwback jersey and some lacrosse shorts, you try round to up your bros. As you walk downstairs to your living room aka a shitload of couches pointed toward the TV, your bros are all talking like pirates.
”What the fuck is wrong with you guys?” you ask.
“Arrghh, we be searching for treasure!”
Then you realize what’s going on here: they broke into the mailbox and are ripping open letters searching for birthday cards from Grandmas with like $10 cash in them. As you are overwhelmed with pride, you make an announcement – “Bros – coffee is on me this morning.”
There’s some new coffee place that just opened up nearby, so you decide to hit it up. You heard it was trendy, but whatever, you’ll just be in and out. Obviously all your bros are still acting like pirates and screaming at all the “wenches” and “pirate hookers” that dare walk on the street as you drive by them. Just to make sure people know they are pirates, they tell all the fat girls you pass that they have to walk the plank since they are making the ship sink. Finally you get to the shop. Normally when bros walk in anywhere, they are greeted by slam pieces trying to eyefuck the shit out of them, but something is different today. For some reason, these people don’t even look hungover. In fact, they all have fucking laptops and if they don’t, they are reading poetry. You overhear someone talking about how much they miss dairy products ever since they decided to go vegan. Normally, you and your bros would start fucking with these #80 losers, but you’ve got a fucking treasure chest at home calling your name, so you just get your coffee. After repeatedly telling the “barista” aka College grad with an English major that you don’t want “fair trade” coffee for just two dollars more, you finally have your shit and are ready to get the fuck out of dodge. That’s when you hear them. Two skinny white dudes in the corner with horned rimmed glasses that you’re pretty sure don’t even have any lenses, tight jeans, and striped sweaters.
“Look at those fucking loser ‘bros,’” one says.
“They’re like straight out of an Onion article!”
“'Look at me, I’m just going to get wasted all the time and talk about how much I can curl' - pathetic.”
That’s it. It’s fucking go time. As you race over to them to get in their face, they quickly pull out their iPhone to see if any of their apps will prevent an attack. As their search fails, they curl up into the fetal position and start to cry. Sure, if you were a Guido, you would proceed to beat the shit out of them, but you’re a bro, therefore one of the smartest people on the planet, so you know you’ve already done your job. Nobody fucks with bros – especially some loser hipster.
Seriously, try walking down the street past a hipster and not wanting to punch him in the face. It’s fucking impossible. Who the fuck are these guys? At what point do you make the decision that you are just so alternative and have to dress that way every day of your fucking life. You know who loves hipsters? Eye doctors. How many fucking hipsters do you think they get a day that just come into to buy frames without lenses? Is that like an awkward conversation at all?
“What’s your lens prescription?”
“Oh no prescription for me today -- I just want people to think I’m a freak.”
Have you ever seen a hipster try to play sports? It’s one of the funniest things you will ever fucking see. Usually they’ll just dribble the ball a couple times looking like that retard kid from those Gatorade commercials that hit like a hundred three-pointers in a row a couple years back, then stop so they can talk about how organized sports is “way too mainstream” for them. At this point they are just fucking begging for someone to flag their tight jeans to reveal their skid-marked tighty whiteys since doing laundry is way too Westernized for their liking.
The absolute worst thing about hipsters is the fact that they think they are better than everyone. This is obviously bullshit because everyone and their fucking mother knows that bros are better than everyone. Hipsters only listen to bands who haven’t been signed to a label because they think they have better taste in music than anyone else, especially people who run record companies. As long as something has “Indie” in the description you better believe hipsters fucking like that shit. The only time a true bro ever uses the word “Indie” is when they are doing impressions of that little Chinese kid from “Temple of Doom.”
So the next time you catch some fucking hipster shoot you a condescending smile and whisper something to his friend, give him the fucking finger. You’re a bro, and years of stuffing that loser into a fucking locker have made him what he is today. Be proud. After all, it’s a bros world – everyone else is just living in it.