Mother? Are You Listening? Let's all drink until we blackout. It's so much better that way. Its so entertaining to wake up and have everyone tell YOU what YOU did last night. Hilarity ensues. "You're fucking with me," and "Let's see some proof," are phrases that come to mind. Then, when they pull out the photos, all you can do is deny them on the grounds that everyone knows how to use Photoshop these days. I guess blacking out is overrated. You might wake up with a bloody asshole. Or worse, next to a fat chick. Oh come on. I've never woken up next to anybody - ever. Therefore its okay for me to jest. Now, if I really did wake up next to a fat chick, do you think I'd be telling the world about it? Perhaps I'm revealing a little too much about my character right now. So what. Fuck you. I know you were thinking the same thing. Anyway, it was a fun evening, even if I can't remember it. Goddamn it, I'm sick of sausage fests though. I mean, does ANYONE know any girls? Yeah yeah, who am I to complain? I made fun of fat chicks. I deserve to be lonely forever. But then, so does every guy on the planet. Guys are sick assholes. Hey, did you know that Sober by Tool is all about a junky rationalizing his addiction? Surprise. At any rate, I just realized that the first 2 sentences in this article are very similar to a line in that song: "Why can't we not be be sober..." and then some other stuff. I can't remember. That part of my brain was destroyed years ago. But anyway, I was telling Mom about the blackout - well actually the bloody asshole events surrounding the blackout - and Mom, being Mom, starts frothing at the mouth, berating me for blacking out. I mean, so sue me. I was like "Hey lady, I've been pretty fucking depressed lately - suicidal even - if it weren't for that goddamn Brady Bill, I'd have a shotgun by now - so I think that I deserve to get out of my mind drunk." Then she called her sponsor and began crying on the phone, saying her precious son was following in her drunken hoofmarks. No that didn't really happen. And she doesn't have hooves. How dare you for suggesting such things. But that would be pretty funny. But she did start giving me that "You make me worried...you're showing signs of being an alcoholic...blah blah blah..." shit. Who the hell does she think she is? Then I started saying stuff like "Look lady, I ain't no goddamn alcoholic!" Then I took a swig of the JB I kept hidden under the carseat. Then I was like, "Whooo hooo!" and then, "We partyin' now, bitch!" Then I blacked out. Seriously though, there is no way to counter a "You're an alcoholic" attack. What can you do? You can either deny it and look like an alcoholic in denial, or agree with it and be an alcoholic. Or start beating your mother, and look like a belligerent alcoholic. Have you ever tried wine and Coke? Not snorty coke. Just regular ole' Coca Cola. Holy shit, that should have made me puke on the spot, but dammit, it was pretty good. 50/50 mix with ice. It tastes a little like Dr. Pepper. Of course, my brother thinks I'm an idiot for liking it, but he's wrong. I'm an idiot for many, MANY reasons. Anyway, I'm no alcoholic. It doesn't mean shit that I need a shot in the morning to take the edge off. Actually 3 shots. All day long I cling to the promise of single-malt scotch after a hard day in the bars. I work for it. I can say no, but I choose to say yes. I shit blood and haven't eaten anything solid in 9 days. But dammit, I ain't no alcoholic. By the way, is it wrong for a man to buy tampons? Yeah yeah, I know a good number of my articles are alcohol related. But Say Lah VEE. Right? That's Italian. You like that? It means "Fuck you, I know it's French and I spelled it wrong." All the other articles are about girls. And addicted to females, I may be, that doesn't mean that I'm getting any. Ever. Kind of like alcohol, except that I drink several times a day and shit blood. Dammit, every time I try to make a serious point, my alcohol suffocated brain gets distracted and makes me write something stu...BONER! It's just... it's just ... my life just feels so gosh darn small these days. What with the Iraq war and religious idiots fucking everything up for everyone. And then the Tsunamis. This isn't a time to fret over the small things. It's time to do something. Drinking is something. Here's where I would put some kind of clever transition and try to be serious again. But I'll skip that and get to the point that I've totally obviously been leading up to: Let's all be healthy and donate tons of money to disaster relief funds. Seriously. Erasure is the fucking awesomest awesomely gay 80's band ever. Steve Holt! O'Doyle Rules! I scored 4 touchdowns in one Polk High football game! Three hams will fill him! Dude, his dad totally owns a dealership! Penis Fart! 010905 |
I call this one Blazing Thunder
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