Wassup, literate bros? And to my illiterate bros out there, see above for some crazy-as-fuck pics fo you to tl:dr this shizzle.
Now n00bs, listen the fuck up, baud! This isn’t think kinda advice that you I’d just yell at you from a pick-up truck, this is serious shit. . .well ya, I did yesterday. But I was hammered, so it doesn’t count. This is gonna be some straight up G advice on how to land the best bitch this side of Division Street.
Now I know most of y’all won’t appreciate me callin’ chicks bitches. So I’ll try my best. But no promises, bitches.
Step one on your quest for bang-a-rific glory is to scout out the girl you wanna stick the…make some…some fuckin word for sex with. For me, it was my graduation sweetheart, Christine. Grade 8 was a peak year. After that, there was kind of a slump for six or seven years where I just kinda bummed around, cleanin toilets and stealing hubcaps. Sure, I ain’t proud. But you know what? Eventually I sold enough hubcaps to Big Charlie to pay for a brand new used 98 Corolla. Then I took that Carolla and picked Christine up for a date, cuz by now we were 18 and shit, so get all those sick ideas out your head, fool. I totally plowed her, btw. Why? Because I had a Corolla, and ain’t nobody gonna steal my hubcaps no more.
Now on to step two: now ya got the bitch, but ya gotta hold onto the bitch. Sorry, ‘girl’. Sorry, ‘WOMAN’. And sorry guys, but that means y’all gotta get a job. Most of you seem to at college or some shit, which is cool and all but really, what kind of self-respecting girl is gonna be impressed by a guy with no job? So my advice is to drop out and do your parents proud in the working world just like they did. Because once your girl starts havin your babies, you’re gonna need to provide for that thing as long as you can, while secretly putting some cash aside so you can slip out one morning and be able to gas up the Corolla all the way to Mexico. Cuz there ain’t no way my hard earned cash is goin to some fuckin kid. Pro tip: best get yoself a job that’s ‘off the grid’, so no government man comes knockin at your door looking for your taxes. As far as you’re concerned, the man he’s lookin for used to live here before you “bought” the house.
Step three: you better be able to show your woman a good time. That doesn’t just mean slaving all night to splice your neighbour’s cable so she can watch TLC free of charge. That means firing up the ATV (or someone’s ATV) once in a while and takin it for a spin through a muddy field. That means when Kid Rock comes to town, you GET HER to that show (pro tip: bolt cutters are no match for a ‘security fence’). That means always having a smoke to bum. I’m no mathematicist, but I say that adds up to LOVE.
The fourth and final step: sometimes, it’s the little things that mean the most. Maybe once in a while, get HER a beer. When the fuckin Leafs are playing, maybe let her watch whatever the fuck she watches. And also take her out to dinner (by which I mean eat her out).
There, I’m fuckin done. Whatever, I don’t care what y’all think. I just hope that this finally lands me that big time writing job I’ve been hoping for. Brockville Sun, here I come motherfuckers! Peace!