You always told yourself that you’d never go to a fucking #45 club, but this place is different. $20 to get in and all you can drink? It sounded too good to be true. Luckily for you, it’s fucking better. It’s #108 Spring Break and this place is packed with slam pieces wearing outfits that would give Lance Bass a boner. You’ve been downing well liquor drinks and #29 grinding on every piece of ass you see for the past hour, when suddenly the music stops and some crazy Mexican guy comes running onto the stage with a microphone.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of Club Reef, It’s my great pleasure to introduce to you tonight’s contestants!”
You’re fucking hammered, so you have no clue what’s going on. You scream out, “What is this some stupid karaoke bullshit? Hey Essay! Turn the fucking lights back off, I’m trying to rub my boner on this stranger!”
Your buddy smacks you, “Shut the fuck up, don’t you realize what this is?”
Just as the girls in cut up white t-shirts trickle onto the stage, it hits you: They’ll be performing all right, but it won’t be some hacked up Britney Spears song. No, tonight these women will be participating in the time-honored Spring Break tradition of trying to win money by letting random guys throw water at their white shirts so everyone can see their #5 nipples. Bros fucking love Wet T-shirt Contests.
Wet T-shirt contests embody everything that’s good about America. I’ll never understand why #133 femi-nazis claim they’re “demeaning” or “make women into objects.” I mean, how can it be OK to promote bullshit like #143 Women’s Basketball, but other legitimate athletic competitions like spraying girls’ boobs with squirt guns is considered degrading? Talk about hypocrisy. It’s not the Wet T-Shirt contestants’ fault they aren’t 6’7’’ manbeast “basketball” players. They’re just playing the hand they were dealt, and I personally respect the shit out of that. Feminists have no fucking clue what they want. One minute they say they want equality; the next they’re saying we can’t cheer for some random drunk College girl living her dream of taking her top off so hundreds of strangers can take pictures. Make up your fucking mind!
In a World of such harsh judgment, it's really amazing that bars and clubs are able to consistently get a great turnout of athletes for their Wet T-shirt competitions. While some of the participants no doubt have made the Wet T-shirt/Bikini contest a full time gig, I’m pretty sure most of them belong to the category of “Girl who claims she’s only doing it because she’s on Spring Break, when the real reason is because she’s a raging whore.”
Over the years, I’ve noticed there’s a strategy to winning a Wet T-Shirt competition. Sure bros love seeing girls’ nipples through their shirts, but you know what bros love even more? That’s right: topless bitches. Nothing gets bros more excited than when a girl rips her top apart. I mean, why would girls want to keep that drenched shirt on anyways? They could catching pneumonia! How amazing do you think she feels when there’s like 1,000 cameras taking pictures of her drunkenly shaking her rack, while some Nickelback song plays in the background? It’s like paparazzi for sluts! It’s gotta be just a great feeling knowing that once your picture is taken topless, there’s about a 5% chance that one of your immediate family members will get to see how famous you are.
Now there’s always those prude contestants who make it clear that their shirt is NOT coming off because she’s “not that type of girl.” Anytime this happens, I fucking boo the shit out of her. Seriously, who the fuck do you think you are? How can you be too good for this? You’re in a fucking Wet T-shirt contest. You’re pretty much two steps away from having sex for money on camera. When you’re spread eagle on stage with a shitload of bros spraying you with beer, I’m pretty sure your employers finding the pictures is the last thing you should be worrying about.
While Bro-Haters and Feminists unite to strike down everything Bros enjoy, we cling to certain aspects that not only enhance our life, but provide confidence and acclaim to Women. The common misconception is that Bros hate Women, but that shit is just not true. As long as you’re willing to climb on stage in a chopped up white t-shirt and endure a fucking squirt gun barrage, not only will bros cheer for you to win, but you’ll also potentially get some cash to spend on shoes and tampons and shit. Whoever said bros are selfish?