by Kel Shinoda October 18, 2007
A big burly man who runs like a dinosaur with wide hips, thick ankles, and a low centre gravity. He loves to wear yoga pants to football games and always has 8 pounds of jell in his hair. He owns a humpy bike and Lynryd Skynyrd records, he likes to bake cakes instead of going camping. He prefers Strawberry Tackerys and Margeritas instead of a nice cold beer like real men. He likes to care for the environment in his little Nissan Leaf while other real men are driving trucks.
by Blockingbrad17 January 14, 2018
His name is Brad he enjoys long walks on the beach with strawberry margaritas listening to his fave tune California girls by Katy perry he also enjoys making cakes and sweet treats with his easy bake oven, his eyebrows are probably higher than the Eiffel Tower and he’s also very eco friendly so instead of driving a big truck like real men he rides his pink old fashioned bike in which they used to call a banana bike he probably enjoys riding those I’d assume. He also runs like a dinasoar with his unhyper extended arms.
by KachiggaMyNigga👅👌🏿 January 15, 2018
Big Bad Brad (noun): A lumbering, sub-human brute with a bulbous frame and an unnaturally wide base. His thick, fat, calloused hooves are often crammed into women’s footwear. His face, a big, dumb, perfectly round slab of confusion, sits atop his hairy mass, though his scalp remains curiously barren. He speaks in a slow, monotone drawl, as if each word is a struggle against his own stupidity.
Chronically late to work and a walking medical mystery (at least in his own mind), he suffers from an extreme case of hypochondria. His days are punctuated by dramatic medical ailments, followed by frantic calls for an ambulance to ferry him from his own home, only for doctors to confirm, yet again, that absolutely nothing is wrong.
A connoisseur of filth, this swamp-dwelling specimen produces greasy, bile-ridden shits at an alarming rate. He is a walking biohazard, harboring every known strain of hepatitis along with a few that science has yet to discover.
Despite his Neanderthal-like attributes, Brad possesses a shockingly average IQ. However, his dental history suggests a level of neglect that has single-handedly funded his dentist’s children’s college tuition. Though Big Bad Brad’s underwear is often covered in matted hair and shit, he remains a friend to all and, in his free time, a self-proclaimed world-class chiropractor, despite having no formal training or hygiene standards.
Chronically late to work and a walking medical mystery (at least in his own mind), he suffers from an extreme case of hypochondria. His days are punctuated by dramatic medical ailments, followed by frantic calls for an ambulance to ferry him from his own home, only for doctors to confirm, yet again, that absolutely nothing is wrong.
A connoisseur of filth, this swamp-dwelling specimen produces greasy, bile-ridden shits at an alarming rate. He is a walking biohazard, harboring every known strain of hepatitis along with a few that science has yet to discover.
Despite his Neanderthal-like attributes, Brad possesses a shockingly average IQ. However, his dental history suggests a level of neglect that has single-handedly funded his dentist’s children’s college tuition. Though Big Bad Brad’s underwear is often covered in matted hair and shit, he remains a friend to all and, in his free time, a self-proclaimed world-class chiropractor, despite having no formal training or hygiene standards.
Jimmy: Big Bad Brad showed up late again, wheezing like he ran a marathon wearing those damn women’s shoes.
Melvin: I swear those shoes are crying for help. Probably like his dentist every time he walks in.
Jimmy: Speaking of cries for help, what’s the over/under on his next fake medical emergency?
Melvin: Two hours—max. My money’s on “mystery heart failure” again.
Melvin: I swear those shoes are crying for help. Probably like his dentist every time he walks in.
Jimmy: Speaking of cries for help, what’s the over/under on his next fake medical emergency?
Melvin: Two hours—max. My money’s on “mystery heart failure” again.
by Dwaggerbomb March 12, 2025