This is What a Bro's Summer Vacation Looks Like
If you're a Bro, the concept of summer vacation has always meant something very specific to you. It's means it's time to rally up your closest male comrades, pack up the lifted truck with blunts, Bud Light and beef jerky, strip off your shirts to expose those sick tats and head to the nearest outdoor gathering full of extreme sports and females with questionable STD histories. Considering the hectic life of the everyday bro--filled with part-time construction work, a constant routine of clothes shopping, weed smoking and couch surfing at the house of whoever is still paying for you--carving out time for vacation is a downright necessity.
dyingscene.com Rollin' to Havasu, bro!
But if you're in the mood to do something that amounts to more than a chill kick back with your homies, you gotta step your game up, bro. Every year, OC's population of future leaders/amateur MMA fighters are on a mission to burn off a week or two of fun that doesn't involve stalking the same old bars in Huntington, Newport, or Downtown Fullerton. And considering OC pretty much invented the stereotype of brodom, OC bros of all pedigrees have a lock on all the siiiiiick getaways free of demanding parents, responsibilities, non-bros and all those darn minorities. Basically, these are places where, if you don't listen to Hatebreed, love motocross, wear board shorts or replace a full-time job by going to the gym, you can pretty much get the fuck out. Here now, are the highlights of a bro-tastic summer vacation.
Finally, a chance to put those expensive mud tires and tricked out Fabtech kit on your lifted Ford to good use on miles of desolate wasteland. Glamis is one of the few places in California where you can rev engines, build fires and shoot guns in peace. Ah, white trash paradise! No longer content with cruising Harbor Blvd or parking in front of your neighborhood Chronic Taco, Glamis is every bro's chance to unveil their inner Evil Knievel in a place officially known as the Imperial Sand Dunes Recreation Area. All you need is a well-maintained fleet of dirt bikes, sand rails and quads that you've dedicated your life to maintaining. After all, who needs college, or goals, or whatever as long as can get out to the desert and tear it up on the dunes! (never mind the fact that this video says "winter." The realm of Glamis hath no seasons!)
The music: Pantera, System of a Down, Slipknot, Papa Roach, Pennywise--nostalgic stuff that reinforces your resolve to NEVER listen to anything that's not some form of aggressive music created before 2007.
The activities: Dirt biking, shooting guns, guzzling light beer and Monster Energy Drinks, boning in collapsable tent-like structures.
The chicks: Motohos--Women with dyed, two-tone hair and pink foam sandals and an entire wardrobe of sweatpants with glittery writing across the ass. She will only have sex with you if you have at least one full sleeve of tattoos, ride motocross and your dad owns some form of car dealership. You also have your Sand Rhino--A considerably larger, stockier version of the Motoho known to inhabit the dunes during this time of year who unveils herself at the end of the night when you're too drunk to stand.
The attire: Expensive, padded motocross gear (enough to make you feel like a Power Ranger when you put it on), along with your favorite racing clothing brand names (FOX, Fleshgear, Skin, etc.), a wife beater in every color, fat-laced skate shoes and plenty of socks (argyle or black).
No matter how cool of a bro you are, most of SoCal can be a hot desert hell hole this time of year. But you love it, as long as you're by some indiscriminate, large body of running water, all forms of idiotic behavior in 100 degree heat are instantly excusable. Pounding beers shirtless while drifting along in an inner tube or a kayak or whatever is the kind of textbook fun you can expect in god's country. Where is "the river" by the way? Notice that bros never say exactly which river they're going to, just some mysterious body of water where barbecues, diving off your dad's yacht, popping champagne and toking up in your camper are pretty much the only ways to get by. But who is complaining about that?!
The music: Classic rock is a must (the real shit--Ted Nugent, Bob Seger, Doobie Brothers, etc.), along with plenty of LMFAO party rock and a hint of Sublime.
The activities:Swim, get drunk, swim, hit on chicks, get more drunk, try not to drown.
The chicks: River rats--Females who consider Crayola Orange to be a natural skin tone. Clothing is mostly optional with these ones. She may be a business professional during the week, but on "the river" that business suit comes off, the string bikini and cowboy hat come on and that embarrassing tramp stamp comes out to play. Got a nice-sized boat? You're definitely getting some action, bro.
The attire: Board shorts, a hat with a sports logo of some kind, and shades that will leave tan lines on your face before the weekend is over.