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PNC finally got accepted to NYAC so we have been hitting the Steam Hard. No more panic attacks.

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“Successful” by Drake

A lot of ya’ll still soundin like last year,

The game needs change and I’m the mother fuckin cashier
Nickels for my thoughts, Dimes in my bed

Quarters of the kush form the lines in my head

It’s hard to believe that wheel-chair stunting Mr. Aubrey Graham has stepped up his rides in so little time. Wheel Chair Jimmy from Degrassi has every car, and seemingly every girl, that he wants now. Not only does the man have enough money to honestly rap about it, but he’s found a way to fuck it (dimes) and smoke it (quarters). Such an innovative bro.

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Let’s admit, this has nothing to do with the recently passed healthcare bill. The man dropped the phrase, “This is a big Fuckin Deal” on live television during a presidential press conference. That’s pretty darn bro.

Biden gives off a Bill Clinton like  aura that he spends his lunch breaks getting blown like a kite by some hot piece of college-intern ass in a closet. And can we blame the man? I wouldn’t. By the way, I also wouldn’t put it past him that the only reason he didn’t completely rape, plunder, and pillage the intellect of Sarah Palin during last year’s Vice Presidential Candidate debate was because he was too tired from bending her over the podium and railing her during commercial breaks.

The man also has some nasty old-guy white hair flow. It’s as if they chronogenically froze Kevin Millar’s hair from when he played for the Red Sox in ‘01 and aged it a couple million years to perfection. Something like basting a Turkey until it’s just right.  What type of conditioner does Joe use? I believe it’s called Best. yea, that’s right, the man made his own hair product. Why? Cuz he’s a big fuckin deal. Just imagine that flow coming out of a lax helmet after rippin some top cheddar.

Bro Biden also makes me feel like he appreciates a good bar fight. I predict him and his other ass hole buddies from Congress, who don’t feel like doing oragami/finger paint/macaroni art with Obama to send to 3rd world countries after the day is done, go to the center of DC and stir up some havoc.  He strikes me as the type of guy who if he got a hand of Osama he would go Bas Rutten on his ass. People’s elbow and all.

That’s why Joe the Bro Biden is Bro of the week. Cuz he’s a big fuckin deal.

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It’s that time again: When basketball brackets become more than a notation in calculus denoting a continuous range and when everything one has learned in statistics is thrown out the window (i.e. Northern Iowa over Kansas). More importantly, its an excuse for any bro to throw the tube on, throw some brews down, and throw away all responsibilities. It’s just a total Bro Fest from all 64 perspectives one can look at it from. However, there are a few points of concern for this time of month:

1. The girl who picks her winners based on which uniform is “prettier”, yet does better than you

2. The kid in your classes that over analyzes everything but knows nothing about basketball, yet does better than you

3. The kid who copies the brackets of ESPN analysts for your dorm pool and plagiarizes his way to victory

4. Ugly Duke white players

5. Omar Samhan of St. Mary’s looks like a human pear yet puts the ball in the hole while wearing low top slipper shoes he got at Marshalls for $10 and messes up my bracket

6. Cornell Cheerleaders/Battle toads/Lagoon creatures burning my corneas every commercial break

7. Schools that sound like a dish at Ihop (Wofford)

8. Kids who enter five different pools with five completely different brackets and brag because they won one of them

9. Barack having his entire bracket filled out by ESPN analysts

10. Putting all your beer money on the line on bodawg.com betting and losing.

But besdies these hiccups along the way, enjoy, Bros. This time of year only comes once. So cheer for your school and remember: shave so you don’t look like Adam Morrison.

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Raising taxes? So not bro. Now that I’m a poor college student, the last thing I need is Obama placing another tax on top of the ducats Deval Patrick is pick pocketing from me each time I wanna buy a tin of Skoal Citrus. What a great idea! Next we should tax gas so I have to walk to pick up a lip.

If you need to get checked out, just go to Planned Parent Hood, I’m sure they can whip something up for you (I hear coat hangers fix chicken pox). Or we could all take Dave Chapelle’s approach and just all get fake Canadian ID’s and go up there and get checked out.

But what I really think we should do is combine the DMV and hospitals. That way when you wait in the long ass line down main street to get checked out for Syphylus you can get your license renewed too. I figure that if we are all going to have to wait, we might as well kill two birds with one stone. What would be even better is if the waiting room had free WiFi, but I have a feeling there will be a tax on using that too to pay for the healthcare we are in line for in the first place.  It’s like an all inclusive resort, except the drinks are shittier (think Rubinoff) and you have to wait for all the waterslides (which barely have enough water). The House is a bunch of fuckin Bro Haters. I should at least get a new snapback with this bill. This is worse than the time people actually watched Rosie O’Donald on TV.

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Today I had the privilege of being a witness to one of the proudest moments in my good friend’s life: his first condom purchase. Having finally acquired a red head from the rugby team to make love to under the sycamore tree, Donatello found himself in the need for anything resembling a Glad bag.

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Straight out of Boston College a duo of freshmen are tearing through beats in their dorm rooms. Plaid button-ups, Reebok Pumps, skinny jeans and MLB fitted hats, they don’t look like your average rappers. But their lyrics are dope and their flow is tight. They have a style that combines both intellect, college life, and satire. Recently they’ve done a remake of Party in the USA (It’s a Party if There’s Alcohol) and Make Her Say. Check the Imperial Convoy out of Youtube and watch out for their upcoming mix-tape: The Freshmen Fifteen. Until then, remember, “Jesus turned water into wine, that’s tight, but I can turn a college loan into Bud Light.” Enjoy.

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So you think your a man because you can shot-gun a beer? You’re good at dizzy bat? You once caught a ten pound bass?

Well this guy has more testosterone than the entire Eastern seaboard combined. Boat? Fuck it. Net? Pshhh. Fishing Rod? Got a helicopter. Beat that.

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