Caleb and Tristan love soccer. Everybody wins!Sure, soccer as a whole is pretty make-fun-able, and this year's World Cup has been pretty terrible too - ties everywhere, super soft goals and that horrible horn. But! I'm going to dodge that easy target and take on something that doesn't basically ridicule itself just by shitting the bed in its biggest stage.
You got lucky this time, soccer.
Someone recently tipped me off to a phenomenon (used loosely) known as bros icing bros. I will not dignify it with a link. Basically douchebag A leaves crappy bottle of booze for douchebag B - who is forced, through some code of bro-ness, to drink said bottle. On one knee, in some homoerotic tribute to douchebag A, douchebag B chugs the bottle.
Really, fellas? I guess this is some form of humiliation. As a "bro" chugs the perceived feminine bottle of liquor, and some of the sugary concoction dribbles onto his popped collar, he is shamed. All the other bros get a good laugh.
First off, I hate when people say bro. If you call me bro, as sometimes happens at work or a Philadelphia police officer on a routine traffic stop, I automatically hate you.
The shame here shouldn't be derived from the fact that you are drinking a bottle of booze that is horrible, but the fact that you are indeed, horrible. You are a moron if your friends try to force you to drink booze. You are a moron if you give in to their pressure and drop to a knee out of some obligation.
This is an awful trend. But, as always, there's a silver lining. Much like Ed Hardy, Bob Marley shirts, Dave Matthews Band stickers on your Jeep Wrangler, a history of lacrosse playing, liking any of these new screamo bands, reading Twilight, doing Jager bombs, acting like anyone on the Jersey Shore etc etc - I can pick you out as a moron who will live an unfulfilling life and die miserable and alone. So thank you, for saving me the time of getting to know you and cultivating a hate for you. I can cut out the middle man and hate you from jump street. Thanks.
Sorry if this post seems a little disjointed. I got wicked dizzy in the middle of it and passed out for two hours. Weeeee
Did Paul tip you off?
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