Not Cool Enough Story Bro

Yo, bro, we have *got* to do something about this global warming business; my balls are sweating like insane amounts right now. Seriously, broseph, I've trimmed my pubes down to nubs and I *still* got a waterfall happening below the treasure trail. Despite my voluminous lung capacity my bronchioles may not be up to the garganormous task of converting enough CO-dubs into oxygen to sufficiently mitigate anthropogenic climate change. I've been heaving and puffing like God's own Big Bad Wolf, bro-man, but the Earth Mother continues to warm and the beans to my pork continue to percolate, like, relentlessly. I've been doing cardio *balls-to-the-wall* but it seems like the fire in my shorts is still rising, Bane-styles. No, bro, now is not the time for gono jokes. Imma need you to cardi-bro with me until my sack can recalibrate 'cause it seems like I can't homeostate on my own (no homo). My testes have not been this hellaciously dehydrated since we slammed 'quila shots in Tijuana and passed out on the beach in the 1,000 degree sun the next day and then those Mexi-hos stole our board shorts. What I'm saying and conveying, lord bro-sir, is that your respiratory system might make a *vast* difference for my vas deferens, if you catch my drift. Speaking of drifts, I wish my balls could catch one right now, bromeister; I would drop my drawers tout de freakin' sweet if there was a cool breeze passing through--especially if it was from your Mom's mouth again like last night! Ha bro! Hey, I'm just yanking your joke stick, broski. Chill. No need to overheat 'cause there is enough of that happening betwixt my two plums, lemme tell you bro. Because of this heat my boys have dropped further than the employment rate now that President Obama has cooked the numbers. Like my balls are cooking. Bro: for realsies though, I need you to respirate until my scrotes can recuperate. Can you do that for me, bro? ... Bro?

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