Monday, June 12, 2017

I think I'm going to throw up.

So I was informed just hours ago, that for some years now, a mobile app has existed for blogger. Now, while apathy and lack of creative juices obviously played a part in many months of silence, the void of equipment needed had also caused many drawbacks. Oh well, hindsight is a bunch of numbers or whatever. That also means that I'll be able to log on more often now, and talk about stuff and things while dropping a duece. Which I could be doing now, you don't know.


There is a lot of things that I do relatively well. I'm a pretty good musician, not a terrible boxer, a decent writer, and of course a world class lover. However, something in particular, which may or may note cause more problems then it does glory, so how I am a champion drinker. 

Just so there's no misunderstanding to the classy toddlers that read this;

Alcohol, not apple juice.

One of the beautiful things that alcohol does, is loosen you up in a way that deletes the concerns for the future. That way, besides losing the fear of rejection and that social retardation just slipping away, by golly once you hit the sweet spot, that level you strove for, you don't even care that you'll probably be tossing spaghetti chunks out your mouth hole.

Now, another just lovely thing about this poison is that it's cheap. Well, it can be cheap. If the need to drown your woes is ever pulsating in your weak mortal skull, it's good to know that after a bus ride and a 10 spot with a couple of singles, you can find yourself embracing a half gallon of vodka swill while crying on your couch watching adult cartoons.

Now, being like a true champ, a barron of bad shits, a duke of dying D cells, comes with a lot of responsibility. You have to constantly be on a charm offensive, so that you don't seem out of the ordinary. What does that mean?

Well, have you ever gone on a walk into town for a cheeseburger, but your legs felt like goo, everything was hilarious, and you just didn't give a fuck? Well that's called having the drunk munchies. Now, driving like this is the purest form of retardation, so no drive through for you. You must be face to face. However, you can't just laugh and stumble around, then stare at the order taker's tits. You have to compliment them, too. You also need to keep a smile of your face while you do an erotic jig. See? Charm.

Then, when you run into some type of authority figure, such as a cop or your dumb wife, you can't just fall over next to them and blame the wind (though as a last resort it might not hurt). You need to be able to carry yourself with a certain level of dignity so that, with either person, you don't end up in a cage eating shitty food. 

Now me in particular, I am what you call a pro. I practically wrote the book on having yourself a responsible drink from time and time. Sure, I've needed to reprint that book a couple dozen times because I either piss or puke on the one prior, but so what? Sure, I've gone empty handed with the ladies at bars a bunch, but they don't call me the bi-annual 10 slammer for nothing. I'm practically every quote from some stupid book about being cool that you've ever even considered reading. 

Perhaps it doesn't help that being drunk causes bad eating habits, among other serious health issues. You can always remember though, that eating cheeseburgers is fucking awesome. What do doctors know anyways? They went to college, and college is for nerds. 

Haha, nerds.

So remember, while some nerd in a white coat might tell you that alcohol is killing a higher percentage of people every year, that you should slow down, and probably exercise more, but can still drink and have fun as long as you limit it to the weekends or perhaps just celebrations, you tell them this;


Because the world sucks, and God is dead.


P.s. I hope you learned something. If not, I'm sorry you're too dumb to learn. If you did, I'm sorry you're dumb and needed to learn this.

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