It’s Winter Break. For the past three weeks you’ve been lying around your house counting down the days until you can get out of this bro-hater house you refer to as “home” and back to your #32 bro pad at school. I mean seriously, who the fuck does your Mom think she is? Wake up before 2pm? Clean your dishes? Take out the trash? No #74 smoking in the house? Take it easy on the drinking? What the fuck is this? Nazi Germany? She’s lucky she pays your tuition or you would totally #97 Upper Deck the shit out of her bathroom. As you lie on the couch yelling that all the mothers on the paternity test episode of “Maury” are fucking whores, you get a call from your bro Joey from College.
“Bro, what are you up to this weekend?”
You’ve got nothing planned, but you don’t want him to think you’re a fucking loser, so you make up some story about some slutty you’re trying to bang.
“Forget all that shit,” he tell you, “My bro is having a party up here in Jersey, 5 kegs, fucking slam pieces everywhere, you’ve got to come.”
After arguing with him about how it’s like a 6-hour drive and how fucking expensive tolls are, he agrees to guarantee dick-wetness and pay your tolls. You compliment him on driving such a hard bargain and agree to go.
That weekend, after a long ass drive you finally make it to Jersey. Since you were late getting on the road you agreed to meet Joey at the party. As you roll up to the spot you see a shitload of cars parked in the driveway – “Ah, #23 drinkers and drivers,” you think, “this is going to be my type of party.” But those positive thoughts quickly start to fade. As you approach the house all you can hear is a repetitive thumping and all you see are flashing lights coming from the windows. In a state of denial that would make OJ proud, you open the door. What the fuck.
You’re eyes dart around the room in shock and disbelief. There’s enough hair gel in this place to fill up a fucking swimming pool. You notice a group of guys with designer jeans, shaved eyebrows, and muscle tees in the corner jumping up and down and pumping their fists. At first think you’re at some gay rights rally – but, it’s much worse – it’s a Guido Party.
You’re friend emerges with a girl in the strobe light and for the first time since you’ve known him, his hair is blown out.
“Great Party right? Check out this slam piece, she saw your facebook picture and promised to go down on you.”
Having never turned down an effortless blowjob you are intrigued, but then you see her: you can barely make out that she’s covered in tattoos of Italy, it’s flag, and even one of Tony Soprano because she’s as orange as a fucking carrot. I guess there’s a fucking first for everything.
You glare at your “bro” and angrily shout, “I don’t even fucking know you!”
As you storm out of the party amidst screams of “Cannoli!!” and “Cheesballs!!” and people trying to fight, you finally get outside and in one of your weaker moments almost start crying out of shock, that is until you stop yourself. You’re a bro – you don’t fucking cry – but you do fucking hate Guidos.
For the most part, bros are very tolerant individuals. They realize all the bro-hatred that is out there caused by ignorance. But since bros are by definition the smartest people on the fucking planet, they realize there are people who are just not acceptable. Bros hate #89 hipsters, but even more than their aggression towards these freak shows is bros hatred of Guidos.
Long before the rest of the World found out how much they hated Guidos thanks to “The Jersey Shore,” bros were well aware. Guidos are everything that is wrong with America. What the fuck goes through the mind of a Guido when he gets ready to go to the fucking #45 club? “If I don’t look tan as shit in the middle of fucking February and keep up on my Steroid Injections, then there’s no way I’m going to be able to bang this disease ridden whore with four pounds of makeup and a tramp stamp tattoo of her ex-boyfriend’s name?”
Honestly, do Guidos actually think they look good? What World do they fucking live in? While the rest of the country laughs at The Jersey Shore and claims that it is the degeneration of America, you know that there are thousands of Guidos out there trying new steroids and making videos to submit to be in Jersey Shore 2 because Snookie and “The Situation” are fucking icons.
The only thing that Guidos really have going for them is that they can talk all the shit they want for one reason and one reason alone: thanks to The Sopranos people think their family is in the fucking Mafia. They rely on this in every altercation because they know if people really knew they worked as $7 an hour day-laborers, their words would be powerless.
Now I know this is going to cause a stir with all you Guidos out there who thought you were bros, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m not attacking “who you are” because your skin is not really Orange, steroids are not natural, your eyebrows are shaved and that 2 pounds of gel was not in your hair when you were born. Guidos love to get fucked up and bang slam pieces just like bros, just don’t act like a fucking clown when you do it.