What’s up Broheim

There will be a day I eat a bunch of power bars and consume a mixture of HGH, Horse Dick Juice and creatine and just “get huge”. On that day I will begin wearing only board shorts and flip flops, usually in conjunction with a wife beater and a flat billed trucker hat angled off to one side. I will dress like that with absolutely no intention of ever going to the beach. I will sit around all day calling the ridiculous losers who hang out with me creative names like “My Bro-migo from Bro-ledo, Bro-hio.” Hopefully afterward we will all get drunk and sing each other the wrong words to “Call Me Al”.

Maybe once my friends and I all go to American eagle to buy new flip flops and raggedy ass hats (that being hats that are “ass raggedy” not a raggedy hat for an ass) that look old but that are brand new and cost a ridiculous amount of money we can all go out and buy some striped shirts. Why you ask? Well allow me to enlighten you Brohamulasaurus Rex. When my brohawks and I roll out to spit water at some fly honeys we like every or “errey” one to know that we roll deep.

On the other hand…the Abercrombie & Fitch hand, some nights me and my Brohamsandwiches just like to chillax up in my crib, or criz-ib fo my real dogz, and talk about how the Goonies was the greatest movie ever. Oh man this one time my brostache Trevor, totally did the Truffle Shuffle, but he was so fucking wasted on Heinekens that he puked in my fake plant.

Alright all you brosephs and bro-hos, I just noticed that fucking UFC is about to come on and that shit is some total wicked fucking shit. Rather than watch it at home I gotta hurry up and slip into my faded and ripped up Diesel jeans, my Tap Out shirt and a fresh pair of flip flops and get out to the bar that they show it on the big screen at. That way when all the non bros are trying to enjoy their evenings me and my brobots can amp it up 10 times 11 for them by screaming and yelling at the screen.

Fuck yeah Broheim, Fuck yeah.

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