“DUDE! That keggar was sick! I would’ve totally kicked that guy’s ass if i wasn’t so tanked!!” These are the classic words of a “bro”. You may have seen them before, huddling in groups, laughing at nonesense, making your trip to get some beer at your local AM-PM harder than trying to get a X-Box 360 on its release date. And no, I am not talking about “Brothers” like how black people use it. I’m talking about the ones with thier torn-up jeans and over-sized flip-flops. The ones with thier polo shirts and Tee’s with snazzy sayings like, “Ohio is for Lovers!” The ones that are always the center of attention at a party and seem to have it all. “I want it all!”, you say? Well have no fear, here is your firsthand guide of how to get the look, the babes, and the asshole reputation you’ve always dreamed of. By the time youre done reading this guide, you will have the power to transform yourself into a full-fledged Bro-fessional! (more…)

So, you’ve watched ‘The Fast and the Furious’ eight times, and you live by Dominc’s famous words, “I live my life a quarter-mile at a time, in those ten seconds or less I am free,” you are a bonified street racer. If you’re fat please don’t confuse this life motto with, “I live my life a quarter-pounder at a time, no lettuce or tomato and french fries for free,” you’re just a bonified fat fuck.
Anyways, before you go blowing your cash on a fixed-up Honda, Nissan, or Acura, take a look in your own garage first. If you own any type of imported vehicle, you can be a street racer! You don’t need a fast car; all you need is some stickers, sweet driving skills and a little imagination.
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You notice the curving bottoms that are just plain swell. You may also notice the nicely formed and dandy bosoms. What are these beautiful, amazing things? These things make up the best part of the animal known as Women. This How-to-Guide has been written to prepare you (the man) for the collection and proper treatment of a woman (your property, or soon to be property). This document will guide you through the proper way a female should be handled in all situations.
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Admit it; most of us have dreamt about being famous or being in a rock band. Those dreams are usually crushed when we accidentally get someone pregnant and are forced to feed and diaper the little fucking accident blessing. We are forced into reality, riding the guilt trip of our lives, we are no longer allowed to:
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If you ever walk down Sunset Blvd in Hollywood on a Friday night, expect to feel out of place when you pass such rockin’ joints as “The Roxy” or the “Whiskey A Go-Go”. These places hold certain shindigs for the youth of LA where obscure bands play with extremely long names that mostly have something to do with bleeding, being bled, or some kind of nonsense title like, “The Black Heart Procession” or “Wear your pants tight if you like UTI’s”.

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You see them, lurking the streets near Starbucks and the Macintosh Store. You dread their uncontrollable spazmatic dancing in fear of your own life. You start getting scared, stop going to shows of your favorite bands, stop playing your music loud in your car because you are so afraid those tiny fists of fury might come out of nowhere and bang on your hood or window.
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