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Whatever you’re doing right now, even if you’re tasked with guarding the nuclear codes in the White House Situation Room (actually, if you’re that person, please focus on your work), please stop and check out this listing that just went up on the Washington, D.C. Craigslist.
A pair of self-described bros in Mount Vernon are seeking a third “renaissance bro” to replace the bro who just moved out. The furnished room goes for $800 a month, plus utilities, and, as the posters lengthily describe, comes with the camaraderie that can only be provided by bros who know each other so well, “we can basically describe each others’ taints with our eyes closed.”
It goes on. Living in this apartment will imbue the lucky renter into a grand network of bros. There will be lots of watching the National Football League, lots of eating steak, and potentially lots of music. So much bro-iness, we can’t even describe it aptly.
Aw, what the hell, let’s just annotate the sucker in its entirety. I’m no bro, but I did make the error in the last decade of watching Entourage, a regrettable experience for sure, but one that leaves a person with the ability to translate bro.
Caution, this language could get a little raunchy. Don’t read it out loud to your boss:
My roommate and I are 29 years old, have known each other since freshman year of college, and can basically describe each others’ taints with our eyes closed. Despite our age and our ability to harness wherewithal to accomplish adult-like goals, we are still very immature. We have lived in the same 3-bedroom row house in Mt. Vernon Square for the past 7 years. Throughout these 7 years we’ve been the constant, while the third room has experienced a myriad of spectacular bros over the ages.
Translation: My roommate and I moved here right after college and we’ve been stuck together ever since. Also, in seven years, we have most likely been mired in the same jobs, or at the very least the same pay level. In that span, we’ve had a moveable feast of roommates who have never gelled with our bro-y ways because we’re a pair of insufferable douchebags and they’re just haters. Oh, and I was just speaking figuratively when I said we can describe each other’s taints, we have never jerked each other off. I swear. Ask anyone we know.
We have always managed to keep the changing of roommates within our bro family (which we will delve into later), but alas we have reached a crossroad in our adult lives where we must brave the outside world to find the chosen one. I’m not going to lie, all you strangers out there terrify me. Our previous third roommate, who is as gentle as a newborn porcupine yet as powerful as an adolescent bonobo, ended up finding his soulmate, getting engaged, and moving on with his life.
Translation: Growing up is for the lames.
Since the end of August, my current roommate and I have been paying for that third empty room out of pocket as we lobbied with our bro high council to fill the position. Our pleas fell on the deaf ears of married bros, new fathers, and committed heterosexuals. As Brooks said in Shawshank, “The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry.” So I come to you, world, to fill the void in my life. . .and to help me get back my damn disposable income that has been going into that third room. . .
Translation: Our parents are sick of paying for an empty bedroom. And we’ve really begged people to move in, but, you know, no homo. By the way The Shawshank Redemption is the best movie ever. Prison bros, ftw.
As the title implies, we are not just looking for any “bro”, but a renaissance bro that will seamlessly fit into our crew like bacon and chocolate chips into waffle batter. In fact, let us define the term bro. We’re not the “bro” you see on MTV, or any “bro” you see wearing Ed Hardy/Affliction T-shirts. We’re not bros with Nantucket red shorts, boat shoes, and croakies. We’re not the Magic The Gathering/D&D Bros. We are just sensible guys that enjoy immature forays on weekends and intellectual box socials on weekdays.
Translation: We do not ascribe to the Jersey Shore, Brooks Brothers, or Comic-Con models of bro-ship. But we enjoy “intellectual box socials.” SOUND THE DRUDGE SIREN! THEY’RE A COUPLE OF TWEED RIDERS! I REPEAT, SOUND THE DRUDGE SIREN!
We enjoy the outdoors and traveling. We read a lot of books and discuss the best way to layer the contents of a BLT. We’re not all fart jokes and dildo-hats though. We both have legit 9-5 jobs, graduate degrees, and high levels of general awareness.
Translation: We read Thought Catalog. Also, it won’t be dildo hats all the time.
We have a strong group of bros (approx 30-45 across the eastern seaboard) that come in and out on a regular basis throughout the week/weekends for Monday/Thursday night football, movie night, or bro dinners at sick steakhouses. I know this is a lot, and there is no way I can cover all areas of our bro community, but I hope this weeds out some of the unsavory “bros” out there.
Translation: Our credit card statements are lousy with bills from Ruth’s Chris. Also, we have the NFL RedZone channel! But best of all, live with us and you’ll have more bros than you know what to do with. And all 40 of us are intimately familiar with each other’s taints. SO MUCH GOOSING! ALL OF THE GOOSING! But seriously, we never circle-jerked. Ask anyone we know.
The third caveat about living in this room is. . . you must be a musician or at least love music. The room comes furnished with a full size bed, a large desk, 2 closets, and a bunch of musical instruments. This room has, for 6 of the past 7 years, doubled as our jamatorium. We have a drum-kit, electric piano, half-stack, 2 more amps, 4 guitars, and congas in that room.
Translation: At least three of these guitars were purchased as freshman-year attempts to get laid but never mastered after we realized that that learning the first two bars of “Stairway to Heaven” does not always lead to boning.
Unfortunately there is nowhere else in the house to store these items, so they come with the room. Hence, you have to like having musical instruments around your living quarters if you live here. If you are not currently a musician, but want to learn piano/drums/guitar, well we can accommodate that. We don’t jam out every night or even every weekend, we never play music after 10 pm on weekdays, and we will never barge in there while you’re having personal time. However, these instruments ain’t going nowheres. The bed/desk are optional and you can throw them out if you so wish.
Translation: Dude! You will get to live in the jamatorium! This will be more awesome than when we spent an entire summer’s earnings chasing Trey Anastasio’s side project around the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. You’d better be ready to quote Seis de Mayo.
Now down to the brass tacks. The room is $800 a month. This includes internet, ADT alarm system, and water. The only utilities we split 3-ways are gas, electric, and DirecTV (with the NFL package and all movie channels). This is a remarkably good price for our location and amenities. Did I mention we have a 60 inch LED TV? It’s awesome. We have all relatively new kitchen appliances in our 2-level row-home.
Translation: We are 29 years old and our parents pay the rent.
We have a big yard where we maintain a garden every spring/summer.
Translation: I read a piece in Details magazine that said gardening can lead to boning.
DO NOT WANT!
We are walking distance (4 min) from the Mt. Vernon/Convention Center metro and about 9 minutes from the Gallery Pl. Chinatown metro. We got that sick Safeway under city vista as our local grocery store and a brand new Cross Fit on New York Avenue. Just kidding about Cross Fit. . . if you are into that don’t email me. JK, but no, seriously.
Translation: Though we are the most epic bros ever, we do not aspire to be the chiseled roid-ragers of Jersey Shore. Think more along the lines of Will Ferrell and Vince Vaughn circa 2004.
I hope this ad did not come off douchey, we’re very reasonable guys.
Translation: And we’ve never fucked each other. Seriously, ask anyone we know.
We are liberal about social issues and semi-conservative about the economy. One thing is for sure, we love capitalism. . .so no occupiers or hippies. We never talk about politics or religion anyway.
Translation: We will be knocking on doors in Northern Virginia for Mitt Romney this weekend. But we both keep a spare Obama-Biden T-shirt in case the president is re-elected and we want to troll for Democratic ladies on Election Day.
If you’re interested, please reply back, come check out the house. . .hang out on a weekend night and see if you can mesh with our pride of bro lions. If you like it, we’d ideally like you to move in anytime between November 15th and December 15th. No security deposit necessary, the lease is month-to-month (but we ask you give us a 3 month heads up if you’re moving out), and all we ask is for proof of gainful employment.
Translation: Please have money. Or at least the appearance of money.
Ideally you will have a 9-5-ish job as well. . .we don’t want bartenders/restaurant guys coming in late at night on weekdays and spraying their hot jazz all over our snuggly dreams.
Translation: Please don’t come home late. Or on our faces.
Also, no women. . . sorry ladies. . . I like to bed you, but not live with you.
Translation: I’m a-scared-ed-ed of girls.
I’ll live with a woman when I take the plunge into holy matrimony.
Translation: Ibid.
