Skip to main content

Californian Stereotypes: The Central Valley 'Bro'

The Central Valley 'Bro' is a peacock-like creature who's natural habitat is the fertile plains and endless strip malls of Central California.

The Bro's testosterone-loaded gait is what makes him so distinctive; he walks as if carrying a heavy load within his Jockeys at all times, his steroid-pumped arms swinging low and displayed to good effect in an Ed Hardy sleeveless tank. The Bro's jeans are usually as tight on his rear as feasibly possible - all the better to show off his... erm... heavy load.

Accessories are a key part of the Bro look; the Bro who bears the bling is a Bro to be reckoned with, the bigger the diamond ear-studs the bigger the respect, y'all. And with the ubiquitous baseball cap perched on top of his cropped head and his feet shod in the latest, most desirable sneakers (i.e. whatever costs the most $$$), the Bro is ready to go.

Not being of the most erudite of dispositions, the Bro isn't much of a talker; he prefers to pepper whatever conversation he stumbles into with multiple exclamations of 'Wassup?' or, if he's feeling especially lazy, a simple "'Sup?" does the job just as well. The delivery is more important than the uttering and pretenders to Bro-ness are easily caught out through their lack of 'Bro stance' - essentially a fluid shoulder roll accompanied by a somewhat over-dramatic backwards jerk of the head. The more seasoned Bro manages to maintain an impressive poker face at all times, whatever the circumstance.

The casual observer may be shocked when witnessing the standard greeting ritual of the Bro, in particular  the Bro Chest Bump - an action disturbingly similar to the kind of maneuver more commonly seen enacted by gorillas at the onset of a territorial dispute. A number of Bro sub-cultures also have their own unique handshake, often involving a complicated sequence of fist-pumping mixed in with a few old-school hi and lo-fives. Very creative Bros may even incorporate a few basic gangsta-rap-style moves into the mix.

But what really marks your average Bro out from his fellow homo sapiens is the love and devotion he showers on his 'ride'. The Bro's favorite place in the world is behind the wheel of his super-truck with his 'Bro-Ho' (blonde, stacked, appreciative) at his side, the stereo pumpin' alternative rock anthems (perhaps even a touch of white-boy-homey radio rap when a Bro is feeling especially feisty) and with, of course, his fellow Bros in convoy.

The very soul of the Bro is tied up in his truck. He dreams of custom trims and metallic paint-jobs with bitchin' decals as he cruises up and down the freeway, his pecs puffed with righteous pride. Sometimes he simmers with subdued envy while pondering his favored tale from Bro legend, of a particularly revered and sick Bro who once fitted out his truck with a train horn, a 16-inch lift and a Mach Force XP exhaust... Like, totally clutch, bro.

Bro-isms for Beginners
- To 'Square Up': the expected response when one offends a Bro, basically an invitation to air one's differences with a bout of fisticuffs
- 'Clutch': used to describe a memorable event or desirable object, as in: "Bro, the lift on that Chevy was totally clutch!"
- 'Sick': the term used to describe something that is really, really fabulous, as in: "Bro, your 'lobe bling is like, sick as f*ck."
- 'Juiced': to partake in physical exercise, as in: "Bro, let's go lift some heavies at the gym and get majorly juiced."
- A 'Bro-Ho': the term used for a female who enjoys relations with a Bro/ multiple Bros
- 'DGAF': acronym for "Don't give a f*ck'
- 'DILLIGAF': acronym for "Do I look like I give a f*ck?"
- 'To flip a beezie': to execute a u-turn in the road
- 'Bro-licious', 'Bro-tastic', 'Bro-lliant': bastardisations of the Queen's English, used to describe positive events and experiences (OK, maybe I made this one up)

Wannabe Bro spots a clutch ride

Comments

Anonymous said…
Yeah, good! Best in many moons.

Do they say "shmicks"? That is the word verification token given below so that I could submit this comment. You don't think, God moving in such mysterious ways, that this is a Sign?
expatmammy said…
excellent
Kate S. said…
This comment has been removed by the author.

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…

Champix

Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …