the code has been cracked

apparently, just asking works.

so if you're laid up with a 101.1 degree fever and you haven't left your bed all day and your kind friend has given up his sunday to take care of you, then just make said friend go over there and say, "dudes, what's the internet password?" the answer will be your own stupid address, no space.

pps

i'm not wearing green today in silent brotest. that'll show 'em.

ps

i just ran into kyle and some brosephs and brosephinas coming back to the house from fratville to pee. kyle's yelling, "urgent! it's urgent!! i gotta pee!!!" then he sees me and starts yelling, "[bruns]! [bruns]!! [bruuuuns]!!!!" and puts up his hand for a high 5. i give it to him as i say "thanks for the wake-up call this morning." he responds, "i love you, too!!!!!"

effing st. patrick's day

can you really celebrate a semi-fake holiday twice? the brosephs think you can. and so on this national bro-holiday (broliday?) part deux, i get up at 7 because ear plugs don't do shit for bass.

"you would really like my mom"

it's 4 am on a wednesday night (or thursday morning?), the bros have been o.o.c. for hours, and it's 99% likely that the apartment next door is now in shambles. so i suck it up and go over there. i knock on the door and immediately hear lots of brohan bodies run for the door. but then there's a pause. i can guess that they're looking at me through the peep hole: "oh shit, it's [bruns]." another long pause. the lock clicks and mike slooooowly pokes his head out.

me: so, dude, the walls are thin, i can hear everything, can you guys please keep it down?
mike: don't worry! we're about to go fuck with shit outside.
me: but it's wednesday and 4 am and 20 degrees out and don't y'all have class and shit? 'cause i do and i'm tired.
cacophony of bros in the background: WE HAVE JOBS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
me: good, but i worry about your choices. mostly because they're loud and keep me up at night.
mike: but we're gonna go fuck with shit someplace else. and we promise we'll be quiet when we come back.
me: okay, whatever, don't be stupid.
mike: you would really like my mom.
me: well, that depends--is she loud?

::some indecipherable jokes about mike's mom from the peanut gallery::

on that note, i turn around and go back inside my apartment. a few minutes later i can hear them in the stairwell shushing and giggling with one another. basically, when they're not bros, they're 11 year old schoolgirls.

the gradual softening of their yells of homophobic slurs as they run off together into the distance marks the end of yet another bro encounter of the 4 am kind. sadly, as you can see, the topic of the new internet password did not come up.

today's brocabulary lesson

bro-tal-i-tar-i-an-ism [broh-tal-i-tair-ee-uh-niz-uhm]:
1. a living regime that is centralized and requires absolute subservience to the bros, especially when exercised with brotality; e.g., this, this, or this.

FML

i hesitated putting this up because it just feels gross and not that funny, but then those feelings were outweighed by my need to share the full extent of living with the brosephs. so i'm white-ing it out to protect the innocent-minded among us (highlight it if you so choose).

here's what i fell asleep to last night: "my buddy blasted a load on your girlfriend's face. face blast! FACE BLAST! FACE BLAST!!!!!!!!!!" then a little while later they grunted my name outside my front door until they eventually scurried off to go harass someone else.

less than two months, less than two months, less than two months . . .

i forgot that there's no sleep on thursdays

kyle's sitting in the stairwell, in the dark, drunk-dialing his home-bros about coming to visit. his method of enticement is expounding on all the drink specials at his favorite local watering holes. right now he's describing a bar with 50 cent margaritas that increase in price at a rate of a dollar an hour, but then top out at $3.50. "3.50!!!!!!" he says. (he's really excited about these margaritas. i kind of am, too--where is this place?) oh wait, he's signing off: "dude, dude, yagottacome, yagottacome. but! but! come for a thursday. latessss."

still internetless . . .

. . . and still searching for a replacement. there are a few new ones since my first post. some favorites include the straight-forward "Meat," the offensive but expected "fuckstick," the bewildering "i'm throwing uppp" [sic], and the pleading "leave britney alone." for a second, i thought the last one might be the brosephs', until i realized that the signal was too weak to be coming from downstairs.

is this war?

so i think the bros have found the blog and have retaliated by cutting me off from their internet. "Frat" has been replaced with "Detroit Red Wings Suck Dick" and none of the inappropriate words/phrases/etc. i've tried as passwords has worked thus far.

clearly, however, as evidenced by this post, it will take much more to silence this bruns and stop this brotest.

new banner!

because clearly my talents/interests/etc. lie outside the sphere of law.

edit: here's the old mspaint one for the sake of posterity.