Today: Apr 14, 2024

Spoof: Southern bro explains it all

Poorly-done tattoos, sports jerseys, and skull bandanas are often signs of a bro.

Ronny Myers, Undergraduate Bro:
As the number one undisputed bro on campus, I’ve got some serious expectations from my fellow students. On one side, you have people like myself who view my obnoxious antics and unrelenting brodom as a way of living the college life to the fullest, because honestly guys, it ain’t getting any better than this when I graduate. On the other hand, my persona elicits an almost murderous rage in approximately 95 percent of the SCSU student and faculty population.
I mean I can’t help it if you’re too slow to make it to the door while I’m walking into the Student Center. I’ve got other things on my mind than basic human courtesy; the new Family Guy is on TBS in 10 minutes and if I miss it I’ll be subjected to a non-stop bar¬rage of gay-jokes from my fellow bros. Do you really want to be the reason I’m called a “fag”; can you handle that on your conscience? Or when I’m walking with my bros and taking up the entire width of a hallway and you give me that look of disgust as you compress your body and spin like a mouse just to squeeze by. Have you seen my shoulder width? I can’t help my body type, I was born this way. I only wish other students had the confidence I embody, maybe then more people would be more comfortable constantly being shirtless in public.
And my promiscuity is nothing more than an expression of my love for all female kinds regardless if I call them back or not the next day. Should I be ashamed of having a healthy sex life perpetuated by a slew of drunken one-night stands skewed in a fog of Axe Phoenix and Newport Menthols? I don’t think so.
Now, don’t even get me started about the way I dress. Forget pink, only real men who are comfortable over-inflating their masculinity wear rhinestones. My bedazzled Affliction T-shirts and ripped jeans are merely a show of my individuality and appreciation for some of fashion’s most talented designers.
Sure my obnoxious partying may seem a tad over the line, but by making an ass of myself in nearly every human encounter, I’m merely tying to lighten the mood man. You can’t tell me I’m not the only one who thinks screaming out my window at 3 a.m. on a Monday night isn’t hilarious. Or that blasting Lil’ Wayne as I pull into the parking garage so the echo can be heard for miles doesn’t at least put a smirk on your face: “Ain’t that a B*tch” is a phenomenal song you can’t deny that. And when I’m out at a bar and throw up on the shoe of the unsuspecting guy or girl next to me? It’s not my fault your shoe got in the way of my puke stream.
So “bro,” “broseph”, “brah,” the next time I’m screaming “Wooo!” at the top of my lungs on my way back from 50 Fitch, and it takes everything in you not to turn your steering wheel just a fraction of an inch to send your car careening over the curb at my hunky physique, take a second and put yourself in my shoes and I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Behind the cheap beer, football jerseys and offensive jokes, I’m a person just like you.

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