Monday, April 14, 2014

Pro Wrestling: The Manliest Sport in the World

Every sport wants to be the manliest sport. Not to be sexist, but that's just the way it is, was, and always will be. From the bloody times of the gladiators to the invention of ro-sham-bo, men have been trying to outman one another for centuries. Whether it's ice hockey, Russian roulette, or women's softball, every game of sport throughout history has tried to proclaim itself as the ballsiest display of manly might. But there can be only one king:


That's right. Professional wrestling is the manliest sport in history. So manly, in fact, that its outcome can actually bring a grown man to tears, be they tears of heartbreak or tears of joy.




So today we're gonna show you why pro wrestling is the manliest sport ever, and why wrestlers are the straightest, manliest fucking bunch of men you've ever laid eyes on.

Don't believe us?

Well, would it be unmanly to shave your entire body, thus enhancing all of those menacing muscles?


And what about a thick coat of bronze, aka the spray tan? Is that not the manliest way to transform oneself into a living god?


And that's just scratching the surface. A wrestler's manliness goes far beyond his hot bod. If you want that extra touch of manly awesomeness, you've got to have long, silky hair that flows like a horse's mane as you prance ever so elegantly around the ring.

Maybe he's born with it, maybe it's WRASTLIN!

And guyliner. You need SO MUCH GUYLINER.


And don't forget the outfit. Pads and helmets are for pussies. So are clothes. You need a thong small enough to make a stripper blush, so you can properly display the bulge. Bring focus to it. Don't be afraid to wear pink or purple, either. That REALLY brings focus to the entire package.


But a wrestler can't just look awesome. Nah, that's only half the battle. They've got to wrestle good, too, which means an arsenal of manly moves, like the piledriver, where you grab your opponent, put their junk in your face (and your face in their junk), and then slam them down between your legs.


Is your heterosexuality tingling? Mine sure is, and it feels good!

Or don't forget the Powerbomb. Only the most sexually secure beefcake can take his opponent, pull them up so their legs are hooked over his shoulders and their junk is right in his face, then slam them down into the mat. And thank god their bulge is there to cushion his delicate face!


Can you imagine how embarrassing it would be to be on the receiving end of that?

But this epic war is not over yet. Not by a long shot. You see, after about thirty solid minutes of grabbing and throwing and light slapping, the finale to every fight is the pinning down of your opponent's sweaty body until they submit to your throbbing will.


Now tell us that's not the most badass way for two straight men to settle their differences.

So there you have it, the manliest sport in the whole world. Which means to all you haters, you'd better think twice before you badmouth professional wrestling, because the last thing you want is to face the wrath of an angry wrestling superstar's oiled up, shaven muscles all up in your junk.

Any wrastlin' fans here?

Cheers and stay beefy, folks,
~B&B

Beer: Upslope IPA
Music: Valerie June


Monday, April 7, 2014

Faded Glory Part II: Prom Night Fight Club

In case you missed it because you're new here or too good to read all of our posts or were injecting your last good vein with Mexican black tar heroin, we're reliving a few memories from high school. Last week was Bryan's invitation to prom from a very kooky Mormon girl, and this week... well, this week is prom.

Prom was held at a magically tacky place called Ocean Journey, which was essentially an aquarium/zoo that held all kinds of sealife/wildlife including sharks, otters, and even tigers.

Because nothing quite says prom like a pack of drunken teenagers yelling at wildlife.


As mentioned in the previous installment, Brandon went with the 2002 Colorado women's bodybuilding champion. If anything, because she was really good at opening pickle jars.


Bryan, meanwhile, took a girl that we'll call Ellen. Bryan and Ellen were having a fun time at prom until Ellen spotted her ex boyfriend, who pulled her aside for a very inconspicuous whispering session.






Whispering that seemed to be all about Bryan.


So Bryan grabbed his date a cup of punch (and himself a cup of mental bleach to wash away that lovely image she painted, and yes, she did say all of that) because he figured it was over. It was not; far from it. The ex boyfriend kept talking smack about Bryan to his date, and Bryan was getting quite annoyed by it, if anything because Ellen wasn't doing anything to stop him.




And so Bryan, who had spent the entire night enduring this annoying and disrespectful whispering, channeled his inner gentleman and made a request of his date.


LOL just kidding, he actually said this...


So Ellen decided to finally do something about it. She was going to pull the ex boyfriend aside and tell him to knock it off. Off she went, to defend his honor. And there Bryan stood. And waited. And waited.

10 minutes later, he got tired and decided to see what was taking so long.

It was this.


It seemed they had gone off to a back corner to eat each other's faces, in a public display of groping and making out so brutal that I'm sure one of them chipped a tooth.

Some people in this situation might have been sad. Heartbroken, even. But Bryan had already had a miserable night, and just wanted to be rid of the awful girl and her not-so-ex boyfriend. He also knew that neither Ellen nor her ex had a car, so he hit her where it hurt and told her he was leaving, and they could both have fun walking home together.

Ellen, who claimed that she had just tripped and fallen into his mouth (achoo!), started bawling and simultaneously making that awful "somebody farted" face. We only wish we could capture the true ugliness of this expression. This is the closest we can muster.

ugly cry face

The ex boyfriend, meanwhile, was just mad that his new tongue-hockey buddy was crying. So he did something really stupid. He took a swing at Bryan. And this happened.








...Okay, so it wasn't nearly that cool.

The guy swung, missed by a mile, and started stumbling off balance. Essentially, he tripped. And yes, Bryan could have just let the guy fall and make a fool of himself, but Bryan has what we in the medical industry call a "temper," so he grabbed Mr. Ex Boyfriend by the back of the head as he staggered off balance and guided his face directly into the wall, where his nose burst like a tomato thrown against pavement.

The girl left in tears. So did the ex boyfriend, with a freshly broken nose. And Bryan? Well, he learned two things. First, that prom is vastly overrated. And two, that bitches be trippin'. Figuratively and literally.

How was your high school prom? Couldn't have been any worse than Bryan's, right?

Cheers and stay classy, friends,
B&B

(And a big thank you to the amazingly hilarious and awesome Robyn Engel who reminded me of this great story not too long ago. I mentioned it on her blog and she actually e-mailed me to ask, "Wait, that really happened?"

Yes. It did. High school... good fucking riddance)

Music: Porcupine Tree
Beer: Upslope Craft Lager

Monday, March 31, 2014

Faded Glory Part I: Mormon Family Values

Neither of us are big on reliving the glory days of high school, and that's keeping in mind that the two of us have known each other forever, so for us that would be the same high school, for the same four grueling years.

So today we're going to have a blast from the past and relive a few select memories from high school, because what 20 to 30-something doesn't love remembering the time you were awkward and had no freedom and no money?

Once upon a time, Brandon and Bryan were in high school...


...and yes, Bryan had frosted tips because it was 2000 and that was cool back then (Hey, at least I didn't look like that assclown Sisqo okay?).

So Bryan had a friend who, for some inexplicable reason, introduced him to a very nice, very mousy Mormon girl whose name we've withheld... not because we're trying to protect her, but because Bryan genuinely has no idea what it was (this is important for later).

On their very first meeting, she casually asked him to prom.


In true high school "I don't give a shit" fashion, Bryan said, "Whatever." So the girl told her parents, and her parents... absolutely freaked out. Because apparently "whatever" is the Mormon equivalent of "we're getting married." And Bryan wasn't Mormon.




Her parents specifically said she should date a ton of Mormon guys just to "test the waters," and if she still wasn't satisfied at the end of that, could maybe go to prom with Bryan. Maybe. If he converted.

It's always nice to be someone's plan Z.

The girl relayed this to Bryan, and said it wasn't anything personal. It was just because he was Catholic, so basically it was personal.

Catholic Guilt(TM): It never leaves you, it just lessens each year as you slowly die inside!

Still, Bryan had to give her the boot. Because even at the age of 17 he knew he didn't need that kind of crazy shit in his life.




Bryan told her goodbye, and the two stopped all form of communication. He thought that was the last time he'd hear from her. Unfortunately, it was not...

Meanwhile, Brandon had a hard time deciding who to take to prom. He was an indecisive little whore, and spent most of his high school career joining various clubs in order to increase his...uh, sample size.

First there was the drama club, in which Brandon actually won the role of the Tin Man in our high school's production of The Wizard of Oz.


But apparently girls aren't all that crazy for gray-face.

Then there was the science club.


(Take that, Big Bang Theory! You're not the only one who can crack high school level chemistry jokes in an attempt to make yourself look smarter than you really are. Booyah!)

Finally, he tried the swim team... which was obviously not the best place to find a prom date.


And 4 months later, he wound up going to prom with the state of Colorado's women's bodybuilding champion. No, really. She was a, uh, handsome girl, that one...


But something else happened 4 months later. Because while the two of us were out at prom, Bryan's mother received a very, very angry call... from the Mormon girl's mother. Which was odd, since Bryan hadn't talked to the Mormon girl in 4 whole months, ever since she decided she was going to date a Mormon football team and Bryan decided to cut her loose.

But the Mormon girl's mother demanded to know where Bryan was, because he was... late for prom?



That's right, even though 4 months had passed with Bryan and the Mormon girl not talking to each other, she and her mother still somehow assumed that Bryan was going to take her to prom. And since he did not (...even remember she existed), she and her mother were both heartbroken and furious. And they both swore they'd never talk to Bryan again after that.

...Which was kind of the whole point to begin with, wasn't it?

Similar to those previous 4 months, you should be surprised to hear that to this very day, Bryan and what's-her-nuts still don't talk.

Stay tuned for next week's continuation when we tell you what actually happened at Brandon and Bryan's prom. Hint: for the first time in his life, Bryan got to make someone bleed his own blood.

Cheers and stay classy, friends,
~Brandon and Bryan

Beer: Powder Monkey Pale Ale
Music: Nigel & the Dropout


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