How to Piss Off a Bro

There is a really quick, really easy way to piss me off. I don't know why this bothers me as much as it does, but I still find myself reaching copious levels of RAAAAAAAGE every time I see this happening.

While that may sound like the first two sentences of someone about to get on their soapbox about something important and definitely wrong, they are actually an introduction to something far more stupid and frivolous. I'm talking, of course, about backwards hats.

                                                       RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE!

I like to think that my wrath when it comes to this is very understandable and reasonable. After all, what reasonable person doesn't think that wearing your hat backwards is a sign of douchebaggery? You know the type. You're sitting down to eat at a fast food place when a couple guys like that kid up there walk in.


"Bro, that chick was broddy. Bro shouldn't bro around with that bimbro, bro."
"Yo, bro, I dunbro. She's hott. Bro, hold on. Hey, bro, I'd like a number ochbro with a burribro and a few soft tacbros. You want anything, bro?"
"Nah, bro, I'm cool."
"Seriously, bro? You sure?"
"Yeah, I had a brossive bro-fast"


Yeah, those guys. They can typically be seen wearing Tapout shirts three sizes too small so everybody can see their brotacular broscles. And of course, their hats on. Backwards. So their eyes aren't protected from the sun. Because that's not the reason hats were made, or anything.


So, how does one go about getting back at these kinds of people ruining your appetite? Oh, it's quite simple. It takes one sentence, just six words long.

Not that.

"Hey, your hat is on backwards."

It works every time without fail. Even the most dense skull can be penetrated by that sentence.

One time, back when I worked in a movie theater, I harassed some 13-year-old bros with that sentence. I was all, "Hey, kids, your hats are on backwards" which worked exactly how I expected it to.

They got all indignant and started yelling and screaming, "Man, shut up and don't fucking talk about my fucking hat or I'll fuck your fuck up! Fuck!"

Now, I am a person that isn't offended by cursing in any way, shape, or form. I appreciate a good F-bomb here and there and I'm not afraid to rip someone a new one with some choice words as warranted. However, I do believe that if your voice hasn't broken yet, you probably shouldn't be trying to sound tough. What's more, you shouldn't be trying to pick a fight with someone who can hold you away at arm's length because you haven't hit your growth spurt yet. Basically, what I'm saying is, "Aww, lookit the li'l 13-year-old-tough-guys. They're so cute! They think they're people!" 

For some reason, the kids decided to leave the theater and not see a movie after all. I have no idea why, but I don't really care because I probably would have kicked them out a few minutes into the movie anyway. You know how those damn 13-year-olds are. Talking and texting like there isn't anybody trying to watch a movie. Why, when I was a young lad, I was beat if I dared to act up. That's why I splurge words all over the internet to strangers who probably don't care at all about what I have to say.

Another good way to piss someone off is to mock their speech right to their face.

If your first thought upon reading that was, "Hey, come on, those people can't help their odd speech patterns, they're retarded!" then you are me and you are going to hell and what are you doing being me? I'm me! You can't be me!

No, I don't mean them. I mean people that (technically) aren't mentally disabled. (That's the politically correct term, right? Eh. Who cares.)

"I care."

I'm talking about the people with annoying vocal tics that in turn make you want to punch a baby.

Once more, if your first thought was, "Hey! You need to stop making fun of people who have stutters! They can't help it!" you need to stop jumping to conclusions about people, dumdum.

Now shut up and let me finish.

"Sup, bro? Nice suit," says The Dude.

I look at him strangely but quickly blink out the confusion in my eyes and accept the compliment. "Um. Thanks... man. Nice, uh. Nice facial hair."

The Dude nods proudly, stroking his goatee, "Yeah. I've been growing it out for a month, bro."

"Uh-huh." I begin to wonder if perhaps he'll add 'bro' to the end of every sentence. I choose to wait before passing judgment, "I really like how fuzzy it looks."

"Totally, bro," the Dude responds. The way his eyes are glowing tells me that he thinks I actually appreciate his peach fuzz. "Bro, lemme tell ya something. Girls. Dig. This." He makes an awful 'this guy!' thumbs point at his chin. My soul dies a little more.

At this point, I decide to see how long it will take before The Dude catches on to me making fun of him. "Really, bro? That's really cool, bro. What else, bro, do girls dig, bro?"

The Dude's excitement has reached insane enough levels that I can almost smell it. Or maybe it's just his cologne. Either way, my head is hurting. "Oh, bro, I have so much to teach you...!"

Ah... All right, to be honest with you... Either this entire story is fake and I don't have the patience to keep writing, or it's all true and I just blacked out at that point before completely slaughtering the bro.

It was totally gnarly and shit, bro.

I don't know how to talk to girls.

Girls are a fascinating bunch. Being a young, adult male, I often find myself thinking about those wonderful creatures. I've had girlfriends in the past, so I know how amazing it is to be touched by them. As such, I live in a constant state of "I want to be her boyfriend" with just about every girl I see. Except for that one, but that's because I actually know her somewhat and she's weird.


For a person like me, single, intimidatingly handsome and with enough attractive qualities to draw the attention of dogs, there's only a few steps I need to take to move from "I want to be her boyfriend" to "her boyfriend." The first of these? Talking to her.


I can't get past this stage.




...


All right, I can't even get to this stage. "What's that, Mr. Sandwichman? You, an internet nerd with a blog can't talk to girls in real life? What a surprise!" Yeah, well... You're absolutely right. Here's a quick rundown of my thought process when I see a pretty girl in public.


"Oh, wow, she's very cute. I should go talk to her, shouldn't I? She's looking my way! Shit! I'm staring! Uh, uh, what do I do? Quick, act all aloof and uninterested! Girls like that, right?" And so I start acting all brooding, mysterious, and too cool for her. She turns away, I immediately go back to watching her. Because I'm a creep, apparently. And my thoughts resume, "Ugh, just go talk to her! I bet you she'd say yes if you just asked her out. No, that's stupid. A pretty girl like that has to have a boyfriend already. Hell, she probably has 5."


As you can see, I'm not exactly the suave type. I can predict exactly how a real life conversation with a girl would go.


Me: Why hello, there!
Her: Um. Hi?
Me: Hey. So, uh. I just saw you walking down the aisles and thought you were really cute so I decided to talk to you.
Her: Thanks...?
Me: Yep. I had a five aisle argument with myself about whether or not I should, though. I eventually decided that you probably didn't actually have guys ask you out very often and should definitely take a chance.
Her: Excuse me?
Me:..... That came out wrong. What I meant to say is, your appearance makes guys not want to talk to you.
Her: WHAT?
Me: No! Shit! That's not what I meant. Um.
Her: *slap!*


So, at the end of the day, I choose to stay quiet and keep my dignity. And, y'know. Loneliness.
Which is part of why I started a blog.