Category Archives: vodka

So Maybe We Could Band Together To Fight Crime. And By Crime I Mean The Fat In My Ass


so remember that one time i worked out all the time?
or that other time where i ate super healthy?
OR that insane time that i stopped drinking?

oh, and remember when i put them all together and did that crazy thing where i tried to basically live a not-so-toxic life?

well i fell off the wagon.  because now my life revolves around stuff like this:

drippy, ecto cooloer looking motherfucker

so i should probably do something about it.
and i should probably stop polishing off jars of pickles in my friend’s homes.
and maybe i should stop laying on the couch so much.
or eating 6 bomb pops in one sitting.
or thinking that i should use that terrible sugary lemonade from the local gas station as vodka mixer.
OR day-dreaming about carbs and starch all day.

 

i guess what i’m saying is that i need to stop being such a damn pile of garbage.

so here goes nothing.
again.

PS. i thought this was funny.  but instead of water – maybe it’s vodka (which is the very thing that isn’t helping my fat ass).

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The Cock Came To Party


regardless of how cliche it is to have a giant inflatable cock at a bachlorette party – you can’t deny the joy it brings to everyone that encounters it.

go ahead – touch it.

parched cock.

and yes – the cock is an advocate of safe sex.
do you even know how many ladies he was with that night?

the cock makes everyone happy.

but unfortunately – the activities of the weekend will slowly begin to deflate any cock.

and i haven’t told shitler yet – but i would really like to get one for the living room.
you know – for a conversation.

like a great coffee table book.
only better.

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High Five 4 Friday


so we’ve established that i make poor choices, correct?

correct.

like i was actually getting over a nasty stomach virus and instead of laying low and taking it easy on my stomach i ate nachos, tacos, and vodka last night.  and then some pizza for dessert.
for shame.

but it’s friday – and if that doesn’t cure what ails me then i don’t know what will.
as always i’m linking up with lauren at from my grey desk.

1. b brought a cape back from the bar the other weekend.  so naturally shitler put it on.  now it’s like he’s a super hero.
 barely.

2. some sick freak kept vandalizing my desk.  but the culprit came forward this week.  glory be!
also – it turns out i like the culprit.  so she’s forgiven.

3. i spend a lot of time on twitter.  mainly lol’ing @OhMrWonka

4. we’re back in business.  welcome home little boy booze!
yes, the name of our boat is little boy booze.  and yes, i’m aware that boats are supposed to be female.  and yes, i don’t care.

5. and maybe you’re a terrorist if you don’t collectively “awwwww” with me over this.  

trixie bitch

i have this nagging feeling that there isn’t enough coffee in the world to get me through today.
but we won’t know until i try.

and remember – the walrus sings at midnight.

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I’m Unimpressed With the Olympics Because I Could Win a Gold Medal in Laziness


a conversation shitler and i had a couple days ago.

me: oh.my.god. i could literally not give any fucks about the olympics.

shitler: that’s because you don’t care about anything.

me: that’s not true.  i care about a lot of things.

shitler: like what?

me: vodka.  laying on this couch.  not wearing pants.  eating tacos.

shitler: ….**silence**

Boats and Hoes: Installment 1: The Tame Version


i’m going to be honest about the tie-up.

it’s a shit show.  
a goddamn shit show.

and one year that i went – i almost died.  
not even kidding.

i may have been a tiny bit wasted while treading water when a large man canon-balled on top of me causing me to crack my skull on the underside of the boat. where i may have blacked out.  and then was hoisted out of the water by some nice gentlemen while a group of gawking fellow drunks looked on hoping that i didn’t drown.  and then i collapsed back at the house and ate shit into a pile of rocks.  i was battered and bruised.

but this year i vowed that it would be different.  that i would redeem myself.  and i’d like to think that i did.
but in an effort to string you along – i’m just submitting some subdued photos and a video.

because tomorrow’s post has got the good shit.  like thongs, and packages, and hot chicks, and gratuitous water sex.

you’re welcome.

and may i just preface this video with the fact that it was only noon at this point and got progressively worse and worse.

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Hairy Cleavage Comparison.


so this happened last night.
mind you it was a tuesday.

i may or may not have suggested that shitler and the super fox compare cleavage.
you know.
to see whose is the hairiest. 

you decide.

 

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The Chain ‘O Lakes Made Me Its Bitch


sweet lord.

ever have one of those weekends where you require at least 48 hours in bed to recover?  or the phrase “i’m too old for this shit” comes to mind?  or it dawns on you that you’re a loser compared to shitler’s aunt and uncle – who are quite possibly the coolest people ever.  i mean – the type of people that know everyone and party harder than anyone i’ve ever met.  it’s incredible.

i don’t know how else to describe the events other then it included boats, water, booze, shitler licking men’s faces, jack russell terriers, zero recovery time, tan lines like a motherfucker, more booze, bands, crazy bachelorette parties, booze, etc.

i can’t do it justice in words – so bear with me as i inundate you with photos.

and then there’s this picture.  which is pretty much my favorite.  because i don’t know what’s going on.  and i can’t even imagine what the caption should be.

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Textual Feeling: One Life To Live


if there’s one person that hates YOLO it’s b.  which i think in turn means he hates living which in turn means i think he should be monitored because it might mean he’s a danger to both himself and others.

it probably doesn’t help when i won’t stop YOLO’ing at him.

me: YOLO.

b: unless you’re charlie then YOLNT.

me: YOLO!!!!

b: i’m going to punch you in the mouth.

me: i’m just trying to get my YOLO on.

b: me too.  that’s why i’m going to punch you in the mouth.

me: YOLO.  i’m going to drink more.  the abuse won’t be so bad when i’m thoroughly intoxicated.

b: i will make it count.

me: YOLO SWIMMING.

b: i am no longer responding to messages involving YOLO.

me: YOLO L Word?

b: what about L Word?

and then i sent him a picture of this:

and he hasn’t even responded.  so i think that means he’s punishing me.  or attempting to teach me a lesson.  which we all know doesn’t work.  just ask my bank account.  or vodka.

so seriously – wtf, b?

we should eat this, because hello it’s a bacon sundae and YOLO.

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I Can’t Stop YOLO’ing


in all seriousness – i’m just not equipped to do anything other than lay on my couch all weekend.

i’m not even exaggerating.   if i leave my house i end up doing something terrible to my liver.  if people come to my house i end  up doing something terrible to my liver.  it’s best for all involved if i hole up in the living room and watch television shows that shitler judges me for watching and not communicate with anyone.

and this weekend was no different.  it involved copious amounts of alcohol, reading the second and third fifty shades of grey books (again) in less than 48 hours, and letting people write “YOLO” on me.  

i’m really not good at learning lessons.

here’s a photo recap.  enjoy or destroy.

and i know that people are annoyed with that damn “YOLO” expression, but it’s really the best possible thing to respond to anything with.  seriously.

you really shouldn’t drink that second bottle of wine.  it’s tuesday.  “YOLO.”

is that pizza on your diet?  “YOLO.”

you have to go to work today.  “YOLO.”

you skipped the gym again?  “YOLO.”

you’re honestly putting bacon on that?  “YOLO.”

have you done anything today besides lay on the couch and watch game of thrones?  “YOLO.”

you honestly bought a gun mug?  “YOLO.”

are you going to put pants on today?  “YOLO.”

do you ever do anything?  “YOLO.

i’m aware that all those things sound like something shitler would say to me.
or has said to me.  

i will neither confirm nor deny.

YOLO.

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Because You’re Only Cool If You Take Pictures Of Me Peeing In The Lake


in no particular order – this was my weekend.

aquatic mounting.

it’s like a chocolate turd

and i’m exhausted.

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