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Clarifying Common Misconceptions: Bro Girls vs. Bro Prey

This has nothing to do with Facebook. This is real life, dammit.

I’m sure you’ve all experienced a bro girl or two. And I’m sure you’ve likewise encountered many an underclasswoman following at the heels of a group of surly bros. Are these two one and the same? No. No, not at all.

For bro girls are simply female versions of bros. They enjoy sports and beer and yelling at sports games. They are often obscenely muscular, which is the telltale sign that you’re dealing with no average womanfolk. Steroids aren’t out of the question for bro-girls, either, so beware of violent mood swings from them. They are dressed most often in gym attire and school affiliated sweatshirts. With that said, I don’t intend to demean bro girls; they are confident women who oppose normative, patriarchal gender structures.. in favor of emulating, to some degree, their bro counterparts.

The other group falls into the category of, what I have termed, “Bro prey.” Bros feast on these women like big obnoxious lions do gazelles. Bro prey are often blonde, of below average intelligence, and usually dress as provocatively as possible, in order to attract the most obnoxious bros available. I surveyed a sampling of two dozen bros and determined that they will select their prey based on the following factors, in descending order:

1) How many cups of Powerade they are able to carry at once. Legend has it that some examples of bro prey can carry up to four cups at once.

2) Titties (That’s bro for large breasts).

3) Submissiveness. Bros don’t like bitches that talk or think.

4) Bitch ain’t gonna cheat (This is bro for faithfulness).

5) Bitch ain’t gonna complain (If she doesn’t enjoy watching sports for at least 3 hours a day, she shouldn’t complain, and should commence sandwich making).

6) Sandwich making ability (See criterion 5).

7) Openness to sex with multiple partners (But no dudes cuz that’s gay and shit).

Those were the top seven. After that there were a few responses ranging from “Don’t cost money,” to, “Hot mom.”

I hope this was as enlightening for you all as it was for me.

For further reading, loyal reader and Bro researcher, Paul, has provided his insight into the matter:


First of all, bros love to help their fellow bros get laid, and many times this has resulted in a “pig roast.”

Pig Roast- A threesome with two bros and one girl.

This is essentially rooted in the homoerotic tendencies displayed by most of the bro race.

Additionally, bro girls carry gatorade, not bro prey (unless serving a bro). This is because they partake in sports. Most of the bro prey have developed eating patterns of not low fat intake, but low food intake (which nutritionally does not make much sense).

Finally, you might want to specify that the criteria for a bro prey to become a girlfriend of said bros.

The gazelles are for one time feasts.


These are good points. I was not familiar with the concept of, ‘Pig roasting,’ however, it certainly seems viable given the aforementioned homoerotic tendencies of bros. Paul, the distinction you were making between carrying Gatorade and serving bros is a valid one. I would counter that my intention in the original posting was that bro prey were rated on their carrying ability of Powerade in order to yes, serve bros. However, it is true that bro girls themselves often consume large quantities of Gatorade, and having a sizable carrying capacity for said Gatorade would be advantageous for them.

Yes, gazelles are, generally, for one time feasts. Bros have a long standing philosophy of hitting it and quitting it. Bro prey, however, do have a tendency to desire the company of bros; it is in their nature. Furthermore, bro prey that satisfy the criteria I posted would certainly be engaged in intercourse, likely once. But as any bro will tell you, “Pussy is pussy.” This could result in multiple night stands. Or the bro could designate his prey for sexual servant status, in which he will engage with her sexually until he is bored or she becomes pregnant.

A very interesting study, indeed.


Is Gucci Mane Mentally Disabled?

So I went to Mexico this summer with the family. It was a great time, but late at night things would get a little dull. So I watched T.V. The only channel that was even mildly interesting and not in Spanish was MTV Jams, a station devoted to random rap/hip hop videos.

I ended up watching quite a bit of MTV Jams. I viewed each video they broadcast about seven times each. Some were marvelous in their ridiculousness. But perhaps the most lasting impact was provided by Mario, Sean Garrett, and Gucci Mane with, “Break Up.” The song is absurd. Apparently all three recording artists cheat on their significant others, then ask, why would you wanna break up? (Do anything for you) Why would you wanna break up? (See I been driving through your hood) Why would you wanna break up?

I enjoy how “driving through your hood” qualifies that statement.

But what’s truly notable are the song stylings of one Gucci Mane. Here are his verses:

Now baby girl had dumped me – Okay.
She no longer wants me – Was it your redundancy that drove her away?
I’m no longer hired – A workplace metaphor. Same statement.
She said that I’ve been fired – Rhyming hired with fired sure is easy. Now you’ve said the same thing four times.
On to the next one – You sound like you’ll be okay.
More fish in the sea – Yep. Certainly are.
Girls are like buses – Or village bicycles, in white terms.
Miss one, Next fifteen; one comin’ – You must be awesome.
Gucci Mane crazy and his ice game stuntin’ – You are crazy? Noooo.
Swag so stupid still the bitch straight dumped me – In case you forgot.
Over, no more smokin’ doja – That must have been what did it.
Baby girl went AWOL – Wait, I thought she stayed with you?
She used to be my soulja – Was she a soldier, did she have soul? Was she secretly Soulja Boy?

He raps in the way Flava Flav would, were he morbidly obese. Which makes him all the more endearing.

Why you wanna leave me – I thought we established this
You should wanna tease me – Why is that? She appears to be dumping you, as established six times
Baby icing ain’t easy, I make it look easy – Has anything EVER been easy for you? Or did you require assistance in simple tasks from a young age?
You should cop your belly – Currently my level of whiteness prevents me from even a vague understanding of what this means
You should rock Louis – Yes, expensive things would make you feel better.
Now it’s fuck shawty – My brain hurts.
I don’t like Gucci (Gucci, Gucci, Gucci) – I thought YOU WERE GUCCI!

Gucci Mane, otherwise known as Radric Davis, is the CEO of his own entertainment company. In September 2008, he was arrested for only doing 25 of 600 community service hours after his 2005 arrest for assault.

He did 4 % of his sentence. He bothered to show up for 25 hours, then gave up and went to jail.


I recently read a article about the possibility of Kanye West being retarded. But I’m fairly sure Kanye is just a dickhole with too much money. Gucci Mane should probably watch out for sharp objects.

Now baby girl had dumped me
She no longer wants me
I’m no longer hired
She said that I’ve been fired
On to the next one
More fish in the sea
Girls are like buses
Miss one, Next fifteen; one comin’
Gucci Mane crazy and his ice game stuntin’
Swag so stupid still the bitch straight dumped me
Over, no more smokin’ doja
Baby girl went AWOL
She used to be my soulja

Anatomy of a Soulja Boy Rap x2

So I realized, upon deconstructing Soulja Boy’s opening verse from the song “Delirious,” that I had forgone analysis of Soulja Boy’s most memorable song, “YAHHH!” Within this song, there is only one actual verse, the rest of it is simply fans of Soulja Boy trying to get his attention and him brushing them off by yelling YAHHH in their face.

Let’s begin:

Let me tell you about the life
And how you live when you is a star – The word ‘is’ could be omitted. The grammar is already way off, and said omission would result in a smoother rhyme scheme.
Every single place you go
The people run up to your car – Perfect rhyme. The sort of rhyme we made during our poetry units in 5th grade.
Everybody wants to talk, and everybody wants to jive – People prefer the company of Soulja Boy
Everybody wants a handshake, or want a high five – Another perfect rhyme. Way to go Soulja!
And these ugly girls always got a friend
That wants to talk to you – No attempt at rhyme, or meter.
(trick, Yahhh, Yahhh, Trick And your friend, Yahhh, Yahhh Too!) – This is what is yelled at the aforementioned ‘ugly girl’s’ friend to prompt her to depart
Ain’t got time for chitchat – To reiterate
I’m tryin to get this money – A new motive is unveiled
So get up out my face
You doodoo head dummy – Perhaps the greates insult in rap history

What’s that, Andy Rooney? You don’t understand?

Let’s break it down, whitey style:

I will reveal to you my lifestyle, which you are likely not familiar with
Because I am a star, and you are a peasant of some sort
Whenever I am out in public
Fans of mine cluster around my automobile of choice
They would like to discuss with me, matters of my stardom
They also desire some sort of physical contact with me due to my aforementioned stardom
In most circumstances, there is a homely looking woman who, in most cases, has a similarly homely companion
This companion would like to speak with me as well
Madame, please depart of your own volition.
For I have prior engagements that require most of my time
I would rather accrue wealth than engage you in conversation
Please cease invading my personal space

You doodoo head dummy

Hark! Oh, Lovable Stoner

Who is this I see today
With red eyes and a grin
A bag of flaming Cheetos
And a little child within

Dropping things and forgetting names
The stoner starts to speak
But then forgets where he is
The stoner starts to tweak

He runs about and surveys the land
He searches in his pouch
He finds an old reggae CD
And becomes one with the couch

Pacified, but not content
The stoner isn’t done
He gathers all his stoner friends
Let’s pack another one!

In quite a state, the stoner purrs
But remembers very fast
He has to write 6 papers
And he hasn’t gone to class

So off he runs, the jolly fool
to return to the world
he has some catching up to do
Tis a stoner’s life unfurled

Buddhism… Correct?

I’m pretty much as atheist as they come. I’m sorry; shield your children. I’ve been taking these Eastern religion courses, however, and I started to think, well, damn. What if Buddhists were right? What if they’ve been right all along; they’re just too chill to care whether anyone believes them?

Let’s first establish what it is they may be right about.

They believe in reincarnation. There’s a system of karma that dictates what realm of the earth or heavens or hells that we will be born into. If you’re some sort of turtle, and you’re a huge prick at that, you’ll run the risk of being born in your next life as a hungry ghost or some shit. If you’re a super nice turtle, and you don’t even eat your babies or anything, you might skip the human realm and end up in the heavenly realm amongst the gods. But you don’t want either of those outcomes. You don’t WANT to be reborn. That’s not what Buddhists are after; they want liberation from the endless cycle of suffering. And the only way to get out of the cycle of rebirth is through meditation in the human realm. And there is a cosmic Buddha who appears every several eons to make sure everyone is doing okay.

I’ll stop here for a moment. This is bullshit so far. The only realm of existence that one can achieve liberation in… is the only one we know for sure exists. Hungry ghosts? Cosmic Buddhas? No, this part makes no sense.

But Buddhists don’t claim religiosity. They claim they follow a way of life. It’s like how most sane Christians know that everything the Bible says is bullshit, but it still teaches good morals to live by.

Well imagine if a religion ACTUALLY taught us good rules to live by! As opposed to persecuting gays and anyone different, not using birth control and being a condescending dick to anyone who thinks different.

Buddhists believe that life is defined by suffering. Everything you gain and which gives you happiness can be taken away, and eventually will be taken away. So what’s the point? The only reason those things (A relationship, a car, a job) give you happiness is because you wanted them and worked for them. That’s striving. Buddhists don’t believe in striving. That creates attachment when you actually achieve what you strive for. And when you have this attachment, what happens when it’s inevitably taken away? Suffering.

And how do Buddhists go about ending this suffering? They meditate until they achieve enlightenment. And if they become attached to meditating, they aren’t doing it right. If they become attached to not being attached, they aren’t doing it right. It takes years of practice, but the goal is to become completely mindful 100% of the time. And being mindful is something that all of us can actually do. 1% of the time. When you are completely mindful of everything around you, you don’t care about whatever you aspire to. You are in the moment, simply taking in everything around you. And I honestly believe that if I were to become mindful all the time, I wouldn’t have suffering. I’m up to 2% and I’m feeling great!

Ask a Buddhist master who has achieved this. Are you suffering?

“Nah man, just puttin mah mofuckin bodhi tree ona rock or some shit.”

The Day the Bros Went Away

At once it was silent and all through the complex
No sweat or discussion of the Jets defense
The bros were all gone but where could they be
The equipment was ready, could it be me?


The bench press was lonely, the freshman girls unoggled
The game wasn’t on; one’s mind surely boggled
The people wore sleeves, wore their hats straight ahead
This wasn’t right, could the bros all be dead?

The little young towel boy requires a spotter
Awkward girls on treadmills discuss Harry Potter
But this isn’t the way
No way not now
The bros are all missing and I’m wondering how

They’re here every day to prove to each other
Their strength and their might to their slow witted brothers
The Powerade runs dry and the world’s orbit slows
Oh where oh where can we find all the bros?

But then it is clear
I surely was daft
The bros can’t be here
They must focus their craft

For on this day, one day a week,
The bros have another agenda to seek

They apply their body paint
They jager their bombs
They wrangle up she bros
With stunning aplomb

This is the day the that there’s no time to train
It’s gameday it’s Saturday in the sun or the rain
They join themselves close and they yell till you’re deaf
Tis a day to get wasted and yell at the ref

If you want to exercise but are afraid of these creatures
What better day to explore the gym’s features?

But tomorrow they’ll return, hungover and glum
You’ll probably wish you never had come
So be quick be efficient you mustn’t delay
For today is the day that the bros went away

Dear Awkward Couple,

Stop it. Just stop. I’ve had enough of you.

[Sigh] There’s this couple. Maybe you’ve seen them. They are extremely unfortunate looking. And that’s fine; I don’t judge (Well I do, but I won’t go out of my way to cause any sort of misery for them just because they are unfortunate looking). They seem very grounded; one day they thought to themselves, you know what? God didn’t make me pretty and I accept that. I’ll just date someone else who looks as unfortunate as I do. At least they’re not pining after something unattainable.

But goddamn they love their PDAs. I saw a ball grab today. A BALL GRAB. In public. I don’t care if you’re Meghan Fox. NO BALL GRABBING. Ugh, here’s a chart of how hot a couple can be before they engage in certain public acts. Scale is standard 1-10.

Sum of deceness = 16-20; anything is pretty much good theater. It might be awkward for them if they started removing clothing, more because of creepy onlookers than anything else.

Sum of deceness = 11-15;  they can cuddle. They can hold hands, kiss. It’s all very cute. Just be careful where yer hands ‘r at fool.

Sum of deceness = 6-10; It’s nice you’ve found each other. But keep it under control; I don’t wanna see you frenchin over thar or I might get pissed.

Sum of deceness = >5; Quasimodo and his pet Goblin can chillabit. No touchie!

I hope I didn’t mislead you into thinking I prefer Reggie Bush to Shaquile O’Neal. Shaq is my hero; someday I want to be him. You hear he can swim almost as fast as Michael Phelps? He’s a God among us.

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Dedicated to the life and times of Officer Dog