Holy shit this is fucking boring. You begged your parents to let you stay home because you’re experiencing “flu-like” symptoms due to last night’s fucking shitshow, but for some reason they think it’s “important to celebrate Christmas Mass as a family.” Fucking bro-haters. This shit is pointless - you’ve already gotten all your presents, why do you even need to be here? Seriously, considering the fucking fornicating you’ve been participating in this year, you’re pretty sure missing Church is the least of God’s worries. As you and your cousins play the “Who can sing the Church songs loudest” game, you spot her across the room. You think you recognize her from the bar, but you can’t tell - you need a closer look. As you crawl over all these fucking bro-haters kneeling while furiously explaining, “GOT THE RUNS!” you swoop around the Church, basically slow motion running like some “Chariots of Fire” shit, when you finally hit up the perfect spot right behind the target. Sure you’re a little out of breath and people are staring at you, but you don’t give a fuck. This girl’s hot and you’re trying to spread some fucking holiday cheer all over her tits.
“AHEM” – you yell, trying to get her attention. Shit’s not working, so you tap her on the shoulder. For some reason she looks kind of pissed. Her Grandma shoots you a look of death, but you just shoot that shit right back to her. Screw her – she’s fucking old as shit, she probably wears diapers too. Fucking loser. You give her the finger and continue: “Hey do you want to get a drink later?” She’s still fucking ignoring you, but you can tell she’s intrigued.
As the Death March aka Mass finally finishes and people start to file out you’re about to throw in the towel on your Church-Banging expedition when she turns around and give you a note. It’s her phone number. The fucking prophecy has been fulfilled. Sure things looked bleak, but thanks to a little hard work and offended old fucks, you’ll be Jingle Bell Knock-ing some boots tonight. All thanks to being a bro and hitting on a girl at an inappropriate time.
Honestly, is there ever an inappropriate time to try to make your move? I say no. Bros are genetically designed to hit on the hottest slam pieces they can fucking find, so why should they have to shut off that switch just because we’re not in a bar or at a party or some shit? I mean, imagine seeing a fucking 10 in line at the pharmacy. You’re telling me that you’re just gonna store that shit away for a Spank Bank session later? Fuck no. I mean, what would you suggest? Just pray you bump into her at the bar and be like, “So did the medicine clear up that yeast infection or what?” Good fucking luck with that shit. Bros realize the window to bang prospective slam pieces closes fast, so we make our moves when we can. Here’s a couple places society labels inappropriate, but bros see as a fucking breeding ground.
Restaurants – Hitting on #147 Bartenders is for fucking amateurs. Every loser at the bar thinks he’s got a chance with that smoking hot bartender who keeps laughing at his jokes and leaning over to show off her glorious rack, but fucking newsflash: a hot bartender is nothing more that a glorified stripper. Don’t get me wrong, bros hit on bartenders any chance we get, only difference is we actually close the deal. But the skill comes in when we devote our energy to other places of business. Hot waitresses are clutch because as long as they’re serving you your food, they can’t fucking go anywhere. Plus, to close the deal, instead of leaving a gratuity you can just fill in “TIP: of my dick??” along with your phone number and maybe a drawing of a penis, just so she knows what you’re talking about (waitresses are pretty dumb). I mean what the fuck were they gonna use the cash for anyways? Rent? Yeah right, how many apartments charge $4 for rent? Get a fucking real job.
At the Office: You know why sexual harassment at the office existed for so long? Because the women that got sexually “harassed” fucking loved that shit. I mean come on, if they didn’t like it why would they keep coming into the office? It’s called logic, bitch. Besides, you know who put an end to that shit? That’s right, the fucking #133 feminists. Honestly, what the fuck were they so pissed about? It’s not like anyone was ever harassing THEM. They were just fucking jealous. The facts are that hot girls love to be hit on at the office. I mean come on, if Women didn’t want to be hit on at work, why would they wear tight fitting clothes and get up 2 hours early to put on enough makeup to fill a fucking silo?
Everyone takes different paths in life. While bros undoubtedly follow the straight and narrow of getting wasted, having sex with random girls they met an hour earlier, and making fun of fat chicks, there are, unfortunately, others who stray from this path. They might not hang out at bars where we supreme genetic beings dwell. Instead, they spend their free time in the park, volunteering, or doing whatever the fuck people that don’t get wasted do. But bros shouldn’t discriminate. Hot is hot. And after all, no matter what path you take, everyone’s heading for the same destination: Pound Town.
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