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I’m sad to say this is a true story.

An acquaintance of mine got iced Saturday night. For those of you uninitiated in this brotastic culmination of a bromance, it happens like this: You sneak up on your bro, get down on bended knee and present him with a Smirnoff Ice. If he does not have a Smirnoff Ice in his back pocket (Dude, what the fuck?), he has to get down on his knee and chug the entire Smirnoff Ice.

I have numerous concerns with this event. Firstly, it’s a grown man proposing. Secondly, instead of presenting a ring (let’s say something shaped like a hole, shaped like, oh, I don’t know, a vagina?), he’s presenting a phallic bottle. Thirdly, said hard penis is full of a milky white substance and if you extrapolate that a little further, the cryptosymbology involved here leads us to infer that bro is presenting bro with jizz in a jar. Symbolically. Finally (hopefully), the receiver gets down on his knee to accept the icing challenge. Thus, the proposal and acceptance become the same thing and both men are united. Gay man is betrothed to gay man and guzzles his jizz as quickly as possible–unless he dares face embarrassment and/or another icing.

Needless to say, during everyone’s joviality, I was mortified and embarrassed and will not be frequenting that bar for quite some time. If I connected all the dots right, the iced dude’s brother later tried to elicit a blowjob from a homeless man. I’m usually a huge advocate for the subway, but that’s when I called a cab.

You goddamned kids.



  1. Does your mother read this blog?

  2. Nope.

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