Full Credits

Stats & Data

November 29, 2011

Think your roommate is bad? Want a worse one? Check out this totally real personal ad if you do.



Want to Live With a Bro, Bro?


          Sup guys, my name is Bro McBroson. I’m looking for some new roommates after my old ones kicked me out for being “a total d-bag.” It looks like they couldn’t handle the party. I always brought the party. If not giving a fuck was currency, I’d be Bill Gates. I’m so cash. Bow.

                Sleep? That’s for pussies. Cleanliness? For Pussies. Common human decency? For extreme pussies.

                Yeah, I like blasting my music all night. Who gives a fuck? I’m cash and my roommates aren’t. One of my roommates told me that I was playing music so loud that they couldn’t think. Well, who gives a fuck? This steed doesn’t. I don’t like thinking. It’s for pussies. Half the time I don’t even think and if some noise wasn’t going into my ears, my brain would probably atrophy from underuse. Don’t judge me. I’m proud of that shit. Plus, I don’t even need sleep naturally; the alcohol does it for me. Hell, the last time I actually got some sleep naturally was the time I went to jail for kicking that seven year-olds ass for calling me a pussy. Bitch totally deserved it.

                My old roommates told me that I should get a job or at least start going to class. Fuck them. I don’t need to do shit. The only thing I need to do is paaaarrrtttyyyy. Yeah, books may get those assholes hard, but the only thing I need to study is anatomy. The female anatomy. Call me a Female Body Inspector (OH!). God, I’m cash. Bow.

                I’m not going to lie. I don’t like cleaning anything. Cleaning is a woman’s job anyway, and if a woman’s not here to clean my shit up, I’m not going to either. Yeah, why even bother bagging my trash? The only thing I like in bags is hash. I’m so cash. I’m a poet and I didn’t even know it. Who needs a degree when you have skills like me? But hell, even if the house I lived in did look like it could get on Hoarders, that’s cool as shit. I’d be on TV.Bow. And we wouldn’t be hoarding lame things like books; we’d be hoarding awesome things like bottles of Dark Eyes.

                My old roommates told me they didn’t like bringing girls around the house because I’d try hitting on them. Well, spoilers guys, girls hit on me. I don’t hit on girls. I just hit them. I know girls want me. Who wouldn’t me? I don’t work. I don’t go to school. All I do is win, win, win no matter what. Those guys that I was in a frat with for half a semester would be so proud of me right now.

                And yeah, I don’t care if you don’t like my friends that I bring over. Yeah, half of them might look like they are from To Catch A Predator and the other half look like they are from Lockup, but that’s cool. They’re cool. They like to party. They like to party hard. They might like doing the occasional meth, but who doesn’t anymore, right? God, I’m cash. Bow.

                Yeah, I don’t pay the rent or utilities. So what? Paying up is for pussies. Bow.  People should feel privileged to live with me. I’m bringing in bitches and hos all day erry day.  So don’t tell me that I’m scaring off women because I’m not. There’s a reason our house always smells of herpes. Sweet, sweet herpes. God, I’m cash. Bow.

                People always ask why I use the word bow all of the time. I don’t know. Bow doesn’t even mean anything. It just sounds fucking cool and I’ll use it like three times in one sentence if I have to. The more I use it, the cooler the sentence is. And the cooler I am. And that means hella hos for me.

                So yeah, who wants to live with me? Hit me up at 555-5555.

                Ladies, feel free to sext me. Just keep it classy. Like I am.

-Bro McBroson