In my prolific life as the ultimate bro, I’ve often found myself stuck inside a place I’d rather not be. (And I’m not talking about that Persian lady. You know who you are, K. Kardashian.)

I’m talking about interrogation rooms. If you’re ever being held in a backroom, ask them to point to the specific rule that prevents your actions. Trust me: It always works. Here are some instances where rules have been created solely because of something I’ve done…

“No Llamas at Sea World.”
So I was talking to this chick at MacLaren’s a couple years back and she was a marine biologist. I thought, “Okay great; I have scuba gear at home, this is going to be easy.” What I didn’t know: She was only a marine biologist because she flunked out of veterinary school. (Sidebar: Flunked out of veterinary school? How hard is it to memorize, “Bring in some of your pet’s poop and I’m gonna trim their nails.) Apparently she’s always had a fascination with llamas. I, on the other hand, have always had a fascination with doing it up against the shark tank while those majestic sons-of-bitches swim by. Long story short, she snuck us into Sea World, I called my llama guy, and the rest is history. (It’s not my fault llamas can’t swim or defend themselves.)

“No Sex in the Bathroom.”
This sign has actually been erected, and I do mean erected, in several hundred places in Manhattan. You wouldn’t believe how angry people get when they walk into the bathroom and see me nailing their girlfriend and/or wife. They’re horrified. It’s not like we’re doing it in the handicap stall! (Sidebar: The actual sidebar in the handicap stall actually provides a way to get a ton of torque.)

“No Spiking the Gatorade Cooler with Everclear at a Major Sports Event to Ensure Your Points Spread.”
This is just a ridiculous rule. So what if 7 people went to the hospital… I lost 15 bucks!

“No Fireworks in the Guggenheim.”
Since when is it illegal to take a smoking hot French chick to the Guggenheim, pose as great grandson Ziggy Guggenheim, and light fireworks in the atrium so that this, and I’ll again reiterate, smoking hot French chick, would do it under a Picasso? You win this time, Guggenheim Security… but Ziggy Guggenheim will be back.

“Do Not Pretend Your Personal Laser Tag Gun is a Real Gun.”
So I’m with this girl who thinks I’m a bank robber. Obviously, if I’m going to get her in the mood, I need to rob a bank. It’s not like it was a real gun! It was a laser tag gun! I will say this, GNB should know better. Why would their “Director of INFORMATION REMOVED” ever rob his OWN bank? That’s just ridiculous.