Now when bros go to strip clubs, they’re not like those old, fat #80 losers, who go every night and request the same stripper because they thinks she loves them. Bros go to strip clubs when they want a change of scenery from the norm of getting #142 blacked out at the bar and banging girls they’ll never talk to again. So what do bros do at strip clubs? Here’s few fun ways to make sure your trip is fucking legendary.
Get Free Service - It’s a proven scientific fact that bros can get laid by simply walking down the street. You know those Axe commercials? Yeah, they’re fucking based on bros’ lives. Bros don’t pay for sex – they fucking profit from that shit by #2 stealing cash out of slam pieces’ purses while they’re taking their post-sex piss. So, obviously at a strip club it’s no different. Anytime some stripper says shit to me like, “Why don’t we go back to the Champaign room? Only $200/half hour.” I give her my pitch. “Listen you bitch, I’m not one of those fat, old, hairy men you cry to your therapist about. I’m a fucking bro.” That’s usually all it takes before she’s riding me in her Mazda convertible for free.
Visit Trashy Strip Clubs – Everyone’s heard of the famous strip clubs like Mons Venus in Tampa or Spearmint Rhino in #61 Vegas. While these places may have the highest quality of strippers, there’s usually like a $50 cover charge just to get in. Then once you’re in there’s a 2 drink minimum where a Bud Light’s $14. Fucking please – even though bros are #135 rich as shit, they don’t need to be blowing this type of cash just to see naked women hump the air while the Black Eyed Peas tell them what to “do with the beat” on the loud speaker. For my money, there’s nothing better than BYOB strip clubs. Sure the girls are fucking haggard, but who gives a fuck? Nothing beats draining a keg and finding the trashiest girl in the bar to give one of your bros a lap dance. Seeing him struggle to keep himself from throwing off a stripper who’s a dead ringer for Barf from “Space Balls” brings bros more joy than Rex Ryan at a Foot Locker.
Get Kicked Out – Anytime I go to a strip club I can’t believe the amount of security they have. I mean, I definitely understand that nobody wants to see the strippers physically abused or anything, but come on. What’s wrong with taking a video with your phone of her gyrating her ass right in your face? “These women have families!” is the common response from the bouncers. Fucking please – if she didn’t want her little brother seeing some video of her stripping on Youporn, then maybe she should have been something other than, oh I don’t know, A STRIPPER?
Anyways, being #40 kicked out of a strip club is about as fucking bro as it gets. It’s good to get creative to the point where you get kicked out, but you don’t get your fucking ass beaten by the bouncer who’s over-protecting “Candy” just because she blew him out back by the dumpster. I always love trying to make the stripper cry by getting all psychological and shit. I might get a lap dance, but the entire time I’ll just be saying shit like, “You’re really good at this – must have been all that practice on your Dad!” "Did the first C-section not take?" or “What’s your personal record for number of abortions in one month?” Be careful though – after all, everyone knows stripper tears burn.
Ask a stripper why she strips and 9 times out of 10 you’ll hear, “To pay for College.” Yeah fucking right. Strippers don’t to College. They spend 10 years climbing on poles, banging 300 pound men, and doing coke with Congressmen until it’s finally time for them to enter retirement aka become Crystal Meth prostitutes. As society continues to crack down on bro rights, one thing that will never be taken away is our appreciation for the timeless art of stripping. Where there’s stripping, there’ll be strip clubs. Where there’s a strip club, you better fucking believe there’ll be bros.
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