Sunday, July 1, 2012

Brostyle: Don't be Brocist


Why do you constantly question our day drinking? Why are you asking me again and again on why we wear our bro tanks? Why are you asking us these stupid fucking questions that insult our way of life? Ey! Why you hatin'?

Don't be insulting us.  We're future pros.  Ask us those questions again and let's see if we hire your ass when you apply for the companies that we'll be C.E. fucking Os of.  It's not our faults that our grandpappies' got respected establishments and that we've got a shit ton of connections that you can't buy with the money you'll never have. Hey, we've got an idea for a game you and us can play.  Let's compare how many connections we've got on Linkedin and see who wins.

Stop being such a prissy bitch and being all jealous and shit.  Continue that and you might as well be a sorority sister or Taylor Swift (go write a song about your tears and feelings).  Everyone knows you only hate on us because you want our beef temples of sex as your own.  You're just bitter 'cause you can't foreclose this and liquidate the benefits for yourself.  You ain't the banking system.  You're just a Pillsbury dough boy who enjoys walks on the beach, cooking with your mommy, and playing John Mayer on your guitar while tears roll down your left eye.  How intimate.

So the next time you see us letting our guns breathe under the sun while day drinking and reeling in our hits of the day, why don't you take a good look at yourself, cry about how you aren't us, and see how you can get on our level, if you can.  And the next time you compare our grades with yours, just remember, we all fucked your slam piece of a mother.  Oh, and that lobster bisque she made you yesterday for dinner? Sucked our dicks last afternoon and used the jizz to make your bisque.  Bon appetit, bitch.

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