#128 Bikinis

Bros and society fucking hate each other. Outside of the glorious double-standard that makes it not only acceptable but also the social norm to bang #101 younger chicks while simultaneously labeling girls as #39 Cougars if they hook up with younger guys, there’s really not that much on which we agree. While society keeps pushing its anti-bro Nazi-like propaganda aka “Women’s Rights,” there is really little bros can get away with these days. Sadly, we live in a time where even harmless attempts at conversation can result in a fucking sexual harassment charge. Once innocent questions such as “Are you single?” “What color underwear are you wearing?” and “Do you swallow?” are now seen as “inappropriate” or “threatening.” Fucking bullshit. While society’s “Fourth Reich” continues its reign of terror on bros and the Women’s movement somehow continues to grow (hairy) legs, there’s always one thing that will remain constant. It’s something that reminds bros that women shouldn’t be running for fucking President or sitting on the Supreme Court (unless, of course, she’s ruling over “The Case of the Missing Shoes: A ‘Sex and the City’ Mystery!”) - they should be getting their tickets punched for fucking Pound Town. Obviously, I’m talking about fucking bikinis.

Whenever a group of bros heads to the beach or pool, they’re not out there to catch rays or flip through fucking tabloids to see what type of hats B-list celebrities think are cool. They’re there to check out slam pieces in their fucking bikinis. Bikinis represent everything that bros love about society. Whoever came up with the idea that men should wear huge baggy shorts as bathing suits and women have to wear two tiny pieces of spandex that are more revealing than most underwear was definitely a fucking bro.

Outside of dangling a Big Mac by a stick in front of a fat bitch on a treadmill, a picture of a bikini during the wintertime is the greatest form of motivation for any girl. Bikinis are more inspirational than all those fucking “My Wish” features about dying little kids on Sportscenter put together. Thanks to #95 Models, girls realize what the only acceptable body type is and as much as they love to say shit like, “I’m happy with my body, it worked for Khloe Khardashian!” or “More cushion for the pushin’!” deep down they know that the only way to get that guaranteed late night #text from a bro saying, ”Wanna bang?” is by looking like you belong in a fucking magazine.

Perhaps a bro’s favorite aspect of bikinis is the fact that there’s nowhere to hide. At the bar, a slam piece has so many ways to trick bros into thinking she’s good looking, just so he’ll sleep with her. Whether it’s makeup, dark lights, getting him drunk, or wearing one of those tops that’s tight around the chest to show off their cleavage but blouses over the stomach to cover their jelly rolls, slam pieces have more tricks than fucking David Blaine. The beauty of pools/beaches/rap videos is that there aren’t any surprises. Bros know what they’re getting so it makes it easier to decide who’s getting the free ticket to ride the Express that night.

While nothing beats a shitload of hot slam pieces in bikinis, it can all be cancelled out if there’s someone who doesn’t belong. Of course, I’m referring to the dreaded fat girl in a bikini aka beached whale. Bros realize this shit doesn’t belong so anytime one is spotted – they immediately let their other bros know. This is accomplished by yelling out shit like “FREE WILLY” or “Someone rescue that beached whale!” While in Mexico we came across a fatty in a bikini who our #94 Token Black Bro immediately #28 recognized as “BP” due to the fact that she was “a fucking manmade disaster.” Every time she walked by we would yell at her begging to plug the hole and asking, “What did those poor pelicans ever do to you??” Looks like she finally got the memo.

Sure this shit sucks but how can we end it? Fucking easy – much like kids must be 16 to get their driver’s license; I propose we enact a weight limit for a “bikini license.” Stores selling bikinis would each have a scale and if you exceed the fair weight limit (probably like 110 lbs) then you’re not getting a fucking bikini. By doing this not only would fat girls not have to hear bros asking them if they ate the entire cast of “The Klumps,” but it would provide a more enjoyable experience for bros – because let’s be honest, there’s nothing more important than that. And before all you fucking left-wing feminists start calling me made up words like sexist or misogynist, I’d like to let you know that my plan also includes the option for the fatties to buy a one-piece suit AS LONG as they promise to use the beach/pool when no bros are present.

As summer flies by, we as bros find ourselves with just a few more weekends to spend at the beach. The next time you’re there, try to break away for a couple minutes from sculpting that gigantic sand vagina to really sit back and appreciate. Tell that group of girls to the left they would be a lot hotter if they didn’t have so much cellulite. Try to catch a glance of the slam piece to the right’s #5 nipple as she ties her bathing suit back up so that god forbid she doesn’t have a tan line on her back. And perhaps most importantly, yell out “Go Back To Sea World!” at the fat girl walking down the beach. Sure you may end up giving her an eating disorder – but you’ve just made the world a better place for bros.

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