Graduation fucking #118 sucks. Ever since they sprouted their first pubes, bros have looked forward to the greatest four (or five) years of their lives. College represents that window in every bro’s life where he gets as fucked up as humanly possible and bangs slam pieces nightly without having to make any fucking excuses whatsoever, because, come on, it’s College. But around this time every year bros start to get that sinking feeling that since they’re about to enter the dreaded “real world” the fun’s all over. That they can’t act the same way anymore just because they’re not living in a College town and society says they now have to be fucking mature and shit. That instead of hooking up with random chicks you meet at 1:45 am, you’re gonna have to “court” girls and go out on fucking #75 dates. Fuck that. The truth is your life as a bro isn’t over when you fight off your massive #161 hangover long enough to throw your graduation cap into the air, it’s just getting started. But in order to make the transition from College student to “real person” successful, there’s a few rules you should follow.
Take the Summer Off: Nobody wants to work in a fucking cube their entire life, but even if your Dad gets you that high paying job at his old fraternity brother’s law firm, chances are that’s where 95% of bros are going to end up. While your parents might be giving you shit to get a job the second you graduate, there’s no rush. Last time I checked your diploma doesn’t expire in three months, so take your fucking time. Get your parents to throw you some big graduation party and invite all your relatives that you know will pony up some fucking cash. Make sure to invite all the ones that live far away because while there’s no chance in hell they’ll be coming, they’ll still send you a couple hundred bucks. So, not only will you get the cash, but you won’t have to go through the torture of talking to them about God knows what, probably the fact that they’re old and are going to fucking die soon.
After you shake down all your relatives, you can just live off that shit or if you need to, get some shitty part time job. Say you’re working at a golf course or something, it’s not like the other workers are ever going to try to make you do shit, because I mean, if they do, just tell them about your diploma and how you’ll probably fucking own that golf course one day. Reminding people you’re better than them is by far the best way to get the respect you deserve. Besides, you’ve had a long 4 years of #65 cheating off nerds and drinking six nights a week. You deserve some me time.
Don’t Move Back Home: Times are tough right now, so it’s gonna be tempting to move back home with the parents to save money. Bad fucking idea. Parents can be some of the biggest Brocists on the planet. All you’ll fucking hear about is how it’s not “healthy” to sleep in until noon. Or how #48 puking on a Tuesday night means you have a drinking problem. I just don’t fucking get it - for four years of College, your parents didn’t give a shit where you were at 4 am or how many dirty clothes were on your bedroom floor, but the minute you move back in, it’s like you’re some 14 year old kid again. Fuck that shit, you’re a bro, by definition one of the smartest people on the fucking planet. Your parents don’t know shit about our constant struggle with society. Find a place with a few of your bros within walking distance of bars – it doesn’t matter how shitty the place. I had girls come back to my shithole of a house right after College and while they were disgusted with it, they still fucking banged me anyways. It’s a proven scientific fact that bros could bang a Slam Piece on a fucking pile of garbage if they needed to.
Find the Happy Hours: For normal people Happy Hour means having a cheap drink and an awkward conversation with co-workers about how complicated the new TPS reports have gotten or some shit. Bros aren’t normal people. Happy Hour is the greatest proof that life after College doesn’t change for bros. Bros still get fucked up every night, they just do that shit earlier. Happy Hours are the best place to not only show off how awesome your drinking ability is to your co-workers, but also to try to #152 bang them. Sure it might be “unprofessional” to tell your hot co-worker you’ve masturbated to her facebook page in the office, but you’re in a fucking bar now. At Happy Hour it’s not sexual harassment, it’s fucking running game.
I vividly remember walking across campus on graduation day, deathly hungover, thinking, “it’s over.” I thought it would never get better than those four years I spent in College, but as I moved on to post-College life I quickly realized that College is just the beginning. Sure it’s sad to say goodbye to some of your bros who you probably will never see again, but fucking pull yourself together. We’re bros, we don’t get sad – we get wasted.