Sometimes a bro just wants to be a bro with other like-minded bros. The Broshole Institute in upper Lowneck, New Jersey is the party destination for guys sick of girls who just want to be guys and hang out in a completely heterosexual and friendly environment with other guys. Just have some beers and hang out and do guy stuff.
Enjoy the naked taco mile run every October, high-fives with your buffest bros at Burly Boys Bar, a way-straight trip to jacktown dine-in cinema where hot straight pornos are playing and you can reserve a booth with your buds and whip it out and jack it while you enjoy some hot wings. Complimentary socks!
Ever wanted to get your chest vacuum pumped until your dude tits look like ripe melons? Crump Pump on High Street in upper downtown Lowneck will make your micro mannies into raw and rude bro boobs ready to pop out of that wild top you're wearing. Yo, you'll be looking and feeling hot at Broshole Institute.
This can't be happening! At Haarverd, it is! America's partyingest Ivory League academy of higher learning was voted Scariest Ghost College three years in a row, but don't let those ooky spookers keep you away from this serious party campus. Horny cheerleaders are great, but can you imagine how horny a cheerleader gets when she's been dead for 30 years? The big secret of Haarverd is that those ectoplasmic emanations are exactly what makes this a sweet spot for good times.
You don't need Tobin's Spirit Guide to figure out that getting it on with thousands of hot, drunk ghosts is going to be the party of eternity. Yeah, they're cold and they all manifest their death injuries, but there is something to be said about doing it with a girl who was crushed by a train. And trust us, you haven't lived until you've been prostate milked by the spectral hand of a ninth-century Mayan priest.
Haarverd would have topped our list, but you can never leave once you've visited and you will forever exist trapped in the twilight realm between life and death...with a bunch of hot co-eds! Hell yeah!
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.