Beware of the FRAT ATTACK!

Do you remember those amazing frat parties in college where girls acted like whores and guys reaped the benefits? Yeah, neither do I. These common cases of amnesia are not because we’re getting older and our memory is disintegrating. No. This is because frat boys most likely roofied your deliciously dangerous drink commonly known today as Jungle Juice.

Jung-le Juice

(juhn-gul jue-ce)
–noun
1. the name given to a improvised mix of liquor that is usually served for group consumption.
2. mixtures containing large quantities of hard alcohol and a variety of fruit juices.
 i.e.: Everclear, rum, gin, tequila, vodka, and whiskey, mixed with orange, grapefruit, cranberry, grape, pineapple or other juices for flavor. YUMMY!

Girls usually have a love/hate relationship with Jungle Juice since you get fucked up from about half as many calories than you normally would intake, it tastes quite yummy, and it’s free. However, the after-effects of jungle juice are usually not worth the benefits. After only about a cup of this concoction, you most likely will end up with your head in a dirty frat house toilet, or naked in some grotesque frat boys’ bed.

BUT, let’s not totally “blame it on the alcohol”... we should probably blame it on the FRAT ATTACK. Why does this happen? Well, have you ever heard of the drug called Xanax? Ever told yourself you would never drink and take Xanax because it is soooo dangerous? Well I hate to break it to you, but if you recall “hitting up fraternity row” one too many times in college, you most likely drank Xanax-induced jungle juice. Think you’re safe if you stay clear of the jungle juice? Don’t be a fucking fool. Frat Bros even put this quickly dissolving drug in bottle of your favorite liquor of choice. Does the vodka the frat bros provided look un-opened and perfectly see-through clear? Well, take it to a scientist and have it tested if you don’t believe me when I say that there is fucking Xanax in there.

Case and point: Veronica is your average sorority girl. She puts on an act of innocence during the day, maintains a 3.5 GPA, volunteers at the local soup kitchens, all of that bullshit, but when Friday night rolls around, not only does the sun go down, but Veronica’s morals do as well. She puts on her one-size-too-small-should-be-a-shirt, wears it as a dress, and skips on over to the frattiest of frats on campus. She thinks she “knows her limit” all too well, and “would never” do drugs, so decides to pour herself a cup of the freshly made jungle juice. She can trust her fellow frat friends, after all they made the drink themselves.

Two hours later, Veronica has managed to make out with two different frat brothers, and finds herself in her bra and thong in the middle of a jello-wrestling contest. Sad thing is that this bitch isn’t going to remember SHIT in the morning. Ladies, this is a clear case of “FRAT ATTACK”. When it comes to jungle juice, “it tastes so good once it hits your lips” that you cannot find it in your heart to put it down. I do give credit to these sneaky and manipulative frat boys who usually get away with these attacks, night after night after night...

Disclaimer: if you have ever been a victim of “FRAT ATTACK” please call our hot line at 1-800-FRAT…YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

Headiquette

THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: 

Hopefully by now, every girl knows that any BRO'S main goal is to get their dick wet. What I mean by this is that guys LOVE a good blowjob, otherwise known as head. There are definitely some universal ground rules when it comes to head (HEADIQUETTE). 

Girls, being able to give a good beej is a CRITICAL skill-set to be able to put on your sexual resume. Yes, technique is extremely important, but I'll get to that later. More importantly, DO NOT be selfish with your man. DO NOT complain that he has some sort of an issue getting hard when you haven't even touched his one-eyed monster. Foreplay is extremely important and whether you're going to finish him off or not, give him a little taste (or yourself a little taste) of what you can do. As for the the most important rule of all, SWALLOW. It's fucking RUDE to spit out his little swimmers. Gulp it down like it's that milkshake from McDonald's that you've been spending extra time at the gym to afford the calories for. 

As far as technique goes, this says everything about your blowjob personality. Here are a few examples of what I mean:

Fondling the Boys: When going down town on your man you never forget the boys in back. Whether it’s pausing to give them a little lick, dip in your mouth, or light cupping, you pay close attention to his nuggets.You’re a real caretaker.You pay attention to the little details in things. Forgetting to thank the chef or send out thank you cards after a party has never been an issue for you.

Licking Lollipop: You take big long licks of your man’s dick, and rub his tip across your lips while locking eyes. You sexual vixen, you.You thrive in spotlight and love nothing more than having all attention on you. 

Deep Throater: Your throat knows no limits. You are a champion. You have always been able to push yourself far beyond any limits anyone had ever set for you. Dreaming big isn't where it stops for you; you’re ambitious and you plan to have it all, and dammit you will.

As for guys, you have rules to follow yourselves. Be GRATEFUL. DO NOT beg for it, push a girl's head down, or ask us if we want to take a "nap in your lap". The answer is automatically NO. 
If you can't follow these few and simple rules, learn how to such your own like Marilyn Manson…Get some fucking HEADIQUETTE before a girl decides to go Lorena Bobbit on your ass. 

The Amelia Earhart

Have you ever thought you finally found the guy you've been looking for your entire life? You've been seeing each other every day for weeks, maybe even months, and when you aren't together, you have a constant text conversation going. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, he becomes your very own AMELIA EARHART. WHERE THE FUCK DID THIS GUY GO? It literally seems as if he has disappeared off the face of the planet, flown to an unknown land, and DROPPED OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH.

So what happened? Some will never know. The most common reason for this AMELIA EARHART type situation is his BROS. Typically, when a guy is really into a girl, his BROS feel threatened. They think he's become a PUSSY and that he's as WHIPPED as an S&M connoisseur. They think that he's spending too much time with this girl instead of playing poker with them and crushing beer cans on their heads like BROS are supposed to. Because of this, the typical CLAN OF BROS will make this guy feel guilty and tease him into being scared that he is ruining his life.

Because of the guys obsession with the BROMANCE, girls all around the world are suffering from the AMELIA EARHART. It seems that this guy’s face will show up on the side of a fucking milk carton, but he never returns. 

The Committed to Not Committing

Ever had that friend who has been hooking up with a guy for MONTHS, expecting that it will soon turn into a relationship, when everyone else around her knows that this kid is playing the game better than Michael Jordan?  This bitch is in her own fantasy world while this guy is secretly (or not so secretly) fucking anything within his reach when he is not with her. The reason this girl is in the realm of denial is because this guy basically treats her like a girlfriend, but will NEVER make her one. This NON-COMMITTER will introduce this poor girl to his parents, have her help pick out the paint colors for his new apartment, have her sleep over every night, and tell her how much he cares about her every day, but he WILL NOT COMMIT.  

Translation from the guy's perspective: 1) I tell her that I care about her to keep her around, and I know she will believe me because I am so charming 2) instead of not being able to fuck her when I want to for the next couple of months, I make up shit as to why I can’t commit right now aka "I’m just not ready", "I’m busy with other things and I want to be able to give you the time you deserve", etc...she eats that shit up 3) it doesn’t take much effort for me to shoot her a text once in a while or see what she is up to. The more I show her that I am interested in talking to her, the more likely she will be DTF later that night when I see her at the bar.

To be honest, I don't blame this guy. What reason does he have to commit? He gets the credit from his BROS for having a hot girl by his side who would do ANYTHING for his attention, yet he can get away with giving her the good old wam, bam, thank you ma'am or the HIT IT AND QUIT IT and then invite the next slut over. This guy is an expert at making excuses, and for fear of losing him (her so-called potential boyfriend) she gives him the benefit of the doubt. 

What girls don't understand is that when a guy REALLY likes them, YOU WILL KNOW WITHOUT A DOUBT. There will be ZERO chasing, begging, pleading, or convincing that she is THE ONE and that he should give up his BBM HOES and his obsessive need to bring home the next bar-slut he finds when he has his beer goggles on.

If you are this girl, RUN. IT WILL NEVER WORK. Save yourself the agony and find a REAL MAN.

The Ex Frat-Star

One would assume that post-graduation, the typical EX FRAT-STAR would begin to take his job (if he was lucky enough to have a connection so that he could get one) seriously, drink less, fuck less sluts, and forget about the days of FRATTING HARD with his BROS. However, this is not the case for every FRAT BRO because some of them just don't know how to say goodbye to their dirty, STD-filled frat houses and hello to the real world. This EX FRAT-STAR is so delusional that he thinks he can hold a job working at daddy's company and still RAGE FACE and scour the world for bitches that are DTF Monday through Sunday. Often times, this EX FRAT-STAR becomes even more fratty than when he actually attended college, if even humanly possible. He takes every opportunity to go out with his BROS and get as shitfaced as possible so that he can end up bringing home the biggest cum-dumpster at the bar. Perhaps if these EX FRAT-STARS started comparing their egos to their dick sizes, they would understand that girls think this behavior is heinous and PATHETIC.

All things considered, sometimes a skanky, insecure girl will use an EX FRAT-STAR as a booty call to make her feel better about her life (we are by no means feminists here, we are aware that there are some raunchy-ass hoes in this world). Maybe she's blackout and can overcome her disgust of his lack of brain cells because he has a hot body and she's insanely horny. Regardless, this girl knows what she's getting herself into, and if she doesn't, she's in for a BRUTAL wake-up call. The EX FRAT-STAR thinks that his "charming" lines and his schemes are original, however, any girl with experience (and a brain) knows exactly how to play the game back.

If you think you have the advantage over girls, just know that we think your can't-get-over-college-or-get-a-life-momma's-boy-self is comical and we share it with our clan of BITCHES (and BITCHES talk...A LOT). Eventually, the EX FRAT-STAR will be selling used cars and coming home to nothing but his dog and a TV dinner while all the girls they thought they successfully fucked over become the CEO's of all the companies they couldn't get hired at. 

The Hyberdater

Remember that really cool friend you had? That bitch that was always down to party no matter what night of the week it was? That bitch who was your ultimate WINGWOMAN and would do anything for a good time? That bitch who made fun of other couples and thought PDA was gross and never wanted to be in a relationship? The bitch that can't even count how many BROS she's fucked in her short lifetime thus far? NOW SHE HAS A MAN.

Not only do you never ever see this HYBERDATER anymore, but when she does decide to call, you know all you're going to hear about is her NAUSEATING stories as if this delusional newly boring wall-flower thinks her relationship is straight out of "Gone With the Wind".

This may sound like single-girl jealousy, but what it really is, is REAL TALK. There is NOTHING worse than the couple who is clearly so far off in their imaginary land that you're positive they must be on a permanent acid trip. If you say "I love you" after one week and are already planning your wedding 10 years before it should even be spoken about, EVERYBODY HATES YOU. Get over yourselves, come out of your love-cave and learn how to interact with human beings again because once your significant other cheats on you with some home-wrecking slut, all you're going to have left is your vibrator and a long list of people who DON'T GIVE A FUCK that you've finally decided to crawl out of your man's asshole and join the real world again. 

The Boregasm

The only thing worse than bad sex, is bad sex. It's awkward, boring, and a waste of your time. For girls, the biggest disappointment of all time could also be the smallest disappointment of all time, if you know what I mean. NOBODY wants to pull down that pair of Calvin Klein boxer-briefs and see what looks like a baby's thumb. How is someone supposed to work with something they can't even find? As you search around for this needle in a haystack you may think to yourself, maybe this guy is a GROWER, not a shower. Your strategy is to do your best to work your usual magic, but NOTHING happens. Now, you're already way too deep into the situation (actually, not so deep at all) to quit. Your only option at this point is to basically lay there until it's over while thinking of the best excuse or the easiest escape route to GET YOURSELF THE FUCK OUT OF THERE.

There's also the gift that's actually a curse in disguise. The opposite situation is no better when the guy's trouser snake is not just your average garden snake, rather an ANACONDA. Women are trained by the phrase "the bigger the better" or maybe even "the bigger the wetter". Sometimes, this is NOT the case. When that 8th wonder of the world finally makes it inside of you, you wonder if this is what childbirth feels like.  There should never the internal debate of "am I wet or am I bleeding?” The ultimate issue is addressed in the movie "The Sweetest Thing". Unfortunately it just might be "TOO BIG TO FIT IN HERE".

And the third case of bad sex: the kind of sex that makes you question whether or not you and this guy ACTUALLY took part in coitus with one another (and i don’t mean you were too drunk to remember). You recall some rather frisky foreplay, and you remember him climbing on top of you, but the next thing you know there is cum all over the bed and a limp dick. GUYS: LEARN HOW TO LAST LONGER.  We know how good it feels for you to thrust and bust, but this does absolutely nothing but make us wonder when the last time this guy masturbated was, in a past life? I’m not sure it is even considered sexual intercourse when you’re only pumping away for 10 seconds.  Girls, if you actually ponder whether or not it is a JOKE that this guy has already finished, and maybe it is his way of teasing you, it is time to find a real man who knows how to please a woman and not just HIMSELF.

SO with all of these painstakingly horrifying sex scenarios, the only thing a girl sets out to accomplish is an orgasm, but the worst has occurred and instead, all she’s gotten is a BOREGASM. To all you cocky (maybe not literally) dudes who think you’re the man in the bedroom, figure out a way to compensate or all you're going to be able to do is use your hand and lubricate.

The MAP: Male American Princess

There is nothing worse than a BRO who acts like he has a bigger vagina than you do. This so-called BRO seems to be a bigger BITCH than you and you can almost be positive that he has constant PMS and a heavier flow than you'll ever experience. The MAP is the guy who wants nothing more than to be a BRO, when in fact he is nothing more than a calorie-counting, brand-name wearing, stuffed-animal collecting PUSSY. No girl wants to fuck a guy who has every Amanda Bynes movie on DVD and gets no better pleasure than watching himself flex in the mirror after a long day of pampering himself and making protein shakes. All this MAP talks about (besides himself) are his David Yurman dog-tags and his "Spring Break Diet" which consists of constant gym sessions and MANOREXIA.

The MAP most likely has more clothes and shoes than most girls and spends most of his time cleaning any scuff that HORRIFYINGLY shows up on one of his many $300 pairs of Nike Dunks. He will NEVER EVER eat late-night because he is NOTHING without his six-pack and he MUST go tanning almost every day. The MAP spends approximately an hour a day styling his hair with products that cost more than the new wardrobe that his hookup just bought at Forever 21. Don't think about touching his hair when you’re trying to get down and dirty, because no amount of sexual pleasure will make him forget that "you have messed up his freshly groomed hairdo"

What most MAP’s don’t understand (because they are too busy worrying about what they look like and how many carbs they ate in one day) is that no CHILL GIRL wants to be caught dead hanging out with a PUSSY ass bitch.  We already have our GIRL friends to talk about fashion, online shop, go to the gym, and tan with...so WHY THE FUCK WOULD WE WANT DO THESE THINGS WITH YOU? Grow some balls and order a pizza next time your late night chilling with a girl. Maybe you’ll end up getting some real action as opposed to just your right hand as you masturbate to Mary-Kate and Ashley's "Holiday in the Sun" (because we know you have every one of their movies within easy reach of your nightstand).

Coke Dick

You're a hot girl who's out at a bar and you know tonight is the night you're going to break the dry spell. The DROUGHT is about to be over and your lawn is about to get watered for the first time in a while. You have your eye on someone specific and you know that he's into you. He buys you a few drinks at the bar, but you still make your rounds knowing not to seem too desperate. The clock is about to strike 2 AM and you decide that this is an appropriate time to seal the deal. You are, in fact, in your perfect drunk state, and undoubtedly ready to go home with this guy. You leave the bar together stumbling home anxiously awaiting reaching your destination because he can't stop telling you how badly he wants you. Sounds like the night is going to end well, right?... WRONG.

All of a sudden you find yourself to be a victim of COKE DICK. This guy has done so much coke that his penis is as soft as a bowl full of Jello. The worst part is that there’s absolutely NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.  If Megan Fox was dry humping this kid, his dick would still be flaccid as fuck.

I'm definitely not a hater and I think that everyone has the right to partake in whatever activities make them happy (sometimes it's more appealing to get sloppy and pass out then to end up in someone else's bed), but FOR THE LOVE OF GOD give a girl a fucking warning. Nobody wants to be the innocent bystander in an unfortunate case of COKE DICK. I'd rather not waste my energy trying to "smush" as the cast of "Jersey Shore" would call it and smoke a blunt with my bestie. All I'm saying is, do what you gotta do, but don't waste my FUCKING TIME (literally).

The Intexticator

There is nothing worse than being so drunk that you become that blacked out INTEXTICATOR that every girl prays she won't ever turn into. As soon as you take that extra shot of tequila you knew you shouldn't have taken in the first place, you reach for your smartphone of choice and watch the avalanche of embarrassment begin to unfold. If you still have a Blackberry (that's sad), you most likely use BBM as your main source of booty calling. This is a set-up for the perfect storm. You begin BBMing multiple contacts to see who will take the bait first. The problem with BBM and drunk girls is that when that letter "R" comes up and you haven't gotten a response, you become as frightening as Courtney Love's face. Nobody likes to be ignored, but when there's proof that this dude read your message and isn't responding, THE SHIT HITS THE FAN. 

One would think that iPhone users wouldn't have this issue, because in this case, you can't tell if the person has read your texts or not. WRONG. Even though you don't have visible proof that you're being ignored, your state of drunken BELLIGERENCE has made you incredibly persistent. Five minutes seems like an hour and you DO NOT WANT TO WAIT. The INTEXTICATOR keeps sending texts over and over hoping that her unwavering determination to get a response will get this now unconquerable, and therefore, HIGHLY DESIRABLE guy to give in. After all, your inebriation gives you the ultimate confidence and you KNOW you’re hot shit. As you look at the screen you begin to notice that you have sent approximately 10 texts and received zero back. Your messages are all green and you have now officially turned into the INCREDIBLE HULK of INTEXTICATING. Are you embarrassed? Maybe a little bit, but more-so, you want to hunt this ignorer down and give him a piece of your mind. PSYCHO? YES, GIRL? YES. Those two go together like Brad and Angelina. 

To all the assholes on the receiving end of this harassment, don't feel too special, you're just one of the many. Another night, another drink, and another excuse to act like a crazy bitch without feeling guilty. 

The Forced Friend

Every group of friends has that one person that just doesn’t belong. The one who everyone thought was cool at first, but ended up being a fun-sucking, Debbie downer, negative Nancy type BITCH. This person is your typical walking anxiety attack. Every time they enter a room, the aura suddenly drops from chill to fucking MISERABLE. You immediately start brainstorming ways to force-feed yourself Xanax in order to avoid the painstaking anxiety you are about to endure, all because of this person's mere presence.  

At first, the FORCED FRIEND seemed legit for a number of reasons. Maybe this person has a shitload of cash-flow and they swipe mommy and daddy's credit cards (obviously all platinum) like it's their job. Who wouldn't want someone like that around when you’re a cheap Jew or just a plain old moocher? Or maybe at first they seemed to know how to party like it was fucking 1999 and you thought to yourself, I could def use a friend who will go out on a Monday night with an 8 AM class the next day. But let’s face it, no matter how hard someone can party, if the girl SUCKS ASS, it’s not even worth using her for shit like this. 

Regardless, eventually you've realized that this person is an utter nuisance to be around, but now they're already part of the group. So what do you do in this situation? If you're nice, you act just as fake as they really are and you deal with it. To those people, AMEN, it takes a lot of willpower to keep your mouth shut when this clueless airhead makes ignorant comment number 300 of the day. But to all the BITCHES out there...in this situation you invite the FORCED FRIEND to all of the usual social events and once they arrive, you ignore the shit out of them. You watch them try to interact with people and you shamelessly get your own sick, but justified, entertainment out of watching them fail miserably.

What I'll never understand is how the FORCED FRIEND never gets the fucking hint and FUCKS OFF like everyone so obviously wants them to. If you are unfortunate enough to have to socially interact with one of these ULTIMATE FORCED FRIENDS, the only way to get rid of them is to laugh at their DUMB comments (but make sure they know you are laughing AT THEM not WITH THEM), ignore their IRRITATING presence (BLATANTLY), and realize that you are better than them. Unless in fact you are them and you're reading this and still don't fucking get it. Sit back, evaluate yourself, and get a fucking REALITY CHECK before it smacks you in the face like one of "The Real Housewives" at a reunion show.

THAT BRO: #Rolling Face

The typical BRO enjoys a few nights out of the year where he can really let loose and ROLL FACE. Who doesn’t enjoy sweating your balls off listening to music that makes you want to cum your pants while girls are begging to be groped and fucked? These are your average BROS, the ones who know how to KILL IT while still KEEPING IT REAL. But then there are the BROS that take it to the next level... the BROS in which no BRO ever wants to be labeled. Yes ladies and gentleman, there is THAT BRO.

THAT BRO will spend all of his parents money on pounds of the purest molly, a ticket to every house music festival in the tri-state area, and plane tickets to anywhere outside of it. Where there is house, there is THAT BRO. THAT BRO leaps at any opportunity to FUCKING RAGE HARD, BRO.

Although each concert takes up only a couple of hours of THAT BRO’s life, THAT BRO’s week revolves around whichever house concert he is attending. During the days before, he frequents American Apparel to purchase a bright muscle tank top with a matching sweatband because THAT BRO knows that you shouldn’t be at a house music festival unless you look like you were birthed from a highlighter.

Concert day arrives and THAT BRO enters in the hopes that a girl is rolling face enough that she will think he is the best thing that has happened to her since Plan B. I mean, who isn’t fun as FUCK to chill with when they’re on Ecstasy? Even the dullest of BROS seem to be the life of the party when one’s body is engulfed in rapturous delight. At that orgasmic moment when an Avicii song starts playing, THAT BRO’s body starts involuntarily convulsing to the precise tempo of the BPM. (after all, he has practiced in front of his mirror all week)

At the end of the day, whether or not THAT BRO goes home with a raging SLUT, he is happy to get down on his knees in a state of utter euphoria, look up at the neon visual surrounded stage with his sweaty face, and bow to the house DJ (while pumping his fists.)

He praises the lord that is SEX AND DRUGS AND HOUSE.