Drinking is an American pastime, almost like baseball minus the competition. It’s a wonder drug that can do anything! What happens when you get mad? Drink! What happens when you are happy? Drink! What happens when you are lonely? Drink! What happens before an interracial orgy? Drink! Bottom line is that drinking helps cure or enhance any mood, and people have been doing it since Jesus changed water into wine... which was a cool ass trick that I bet David Blaine could never do... and he calls himself a magician, hmmph!
Drinking isn't all dandy daffodils and hazy rainbows though, it definitely has a downfall.... when it is consumed in excess, not only do you feel as if the Grim Reaper himself sodomized you with his sickle the next morning, but whilst drinking, you can become a new person...good or bad... it isn’t you. You think you are an asshole superhero with supernatural powers and that you are somehow invincible to societies scrutiny....well I hate to shove a piece of kryptonite into your anal cavity, but guess what...we are all laughing at you...or wait..." am I the one that is being laughed at?" This is what today’s blog will reveal... the adventures (and debacles) of a blackout bonanza!
**Before I begin, after reading this, many people will say "But Doc, I am one of these people you are mentioning, It kind of hurts my feelings" My response to you is this: "Dear Valued Reader, I am greatly pained by your damaged feelings, but why don't you stop your bitching and head over to your grandmothers house for a nice family fisting! Good Day!**
Well, Its finally the weekend, and its time to get together with your friends at the local watering hole and drink to the point that you believe your face is slipping off your skull. It always starts the same way; kick it off with a beer and a shot, hell why not two shots. Then one beer turns to a pitcher, the two shots have turned into 5 and the next thing you know you are doing beer bongs in the corner with that guy you used to make fun of in high school and slurping body shots off of the Golden Tee Machine. GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF! If you keep on this track, not only are you going to have a horrendous "P-Diddy worthy" tab, but you are going to miss some of the best free entertainment unfold in just about every direction... lets take a look shall we.
Look at the door, here comes the 1997 high school homecoming queen, sporting haggard hair, sunglasses, her college sweatshirt and the fabled "loosey lump". What is the loosey lump, you ask? Ill tell ya. It’s that goofy 'bump like' growth that some women get when they are stretched and tired. It starts its form directly below the belly button and crests its descent at the genitals...BLAARGHHH ...probably just a concealed cum dumpster. Anyways, back to the tale. Queeny comes in flanked by her entourage of flunkies, jabbering away on their "cellys" while the head honcho scopes out the joint and sees if its suitable for her to plant her royal, loopy ass. Ok, the fact that she still hangs on to her "high school" royalty is enough of a joke, but the crowning glory will come at the end of the night when she is crying like a patient with an AIDS diagnosis. The cry is always guaranteed. Either one of her 12 fuck buddies of the month will find love elsewhere...TEARS. Her daddy murdered her mommy and ran out with her ex boyfriend...TEARS. No guy in the bar will touch her cause it is a well-known fact that creatures live in her vagina...TEARS. In my book, Tears = Hilarity. I love pointing and laughing at this poor lost soul while she breaks down in front of everyone... in fact, I try to get up close to make sure she sees me wagging my finger mockingly at her and bellowing out boisterous laughter. Hopefully this will lead her to realize what a let down she is, jump start her eating disorder and travel down a long miserable trail of therapy and depression. Looks like its time to hand down your tiara you worthless pile of flesh embarrassment.
Hey, while we are on the topic of high school nostalgia, look over at the megatouch machine and check out the old "football quarterback", wow he really went down hill. Abs... gone, hair... gone, girlfriend...gone and dignity... fuckin gone. He’s still proudly decked out in his varsity jacket, trying to impress the half pregnant immigrant waitresses with the scar he got in the big game back in the day. Look dude, I’m sorry you aren’t "the shit" anymore, but it will be easier on everyone if you just let it go. It makes me feel uncomfortable looking at the guy who used to bang A-PLUS rando's on the regular, taking the bouncer out back for a rump poke and reach around, just to get a free Pabst Blue Ribbon. Why don’t you just leave the bar, drive to one of your 4 baby mama's houses, harass her till she calls the cops and pass out in your daughters' room, crying whilst clutching her copy of "Where the Wild Things Are."
Now that the lives of your fellow alumnus are ruined, turn to your left and feast your eyes upon Chain Smoker McDaniel. Not only can this guy be more annoying than a cackling rooster with a burning rash playing the harmonica, but his physical appearance is no short of ghastly. His hair resembles dirty straw, his clothing looks as if it has survived 12 generations in his family, his teeth look like candy corn vomit and his complexion well let’s just say his crotch rot must have spread into his pores, making him as pale and decrepit as Lindsay Lohan’s left tit. While you are happily trying to drench your brain cells in potent nectar, CSM is constantly blowing his Marlboro unfiltered reds directly into your nose holes. Hey buddy, why don’t you take a second to set down your cigarette and sip on that Budweiser that has been condensating in front of you for the past 2 hours? I admire your drive and dedication to achieve the rarest form of emphysema, but as for me, I enjoy partaking in some oxygen from time to time. If you are trying to die miserably, why do it in a place filled with young people trying to enjoy themselves? If that’s the kind of thing you really want, Ill gather up some friends and we will all head down to the nearest funeral home and do keg stands while you get cremated alive. Now that sounds like a good time! But hey, do you mind driving? I’m a little drunk, thanks dick dimple.
Ok, now that Chain Smoker McDaniel has been murdered by the secret society at truth.com, turn to your right and scope out Chatterbox Chester. He is a middle-aged man, dressed in a suit with a loose tie, absolutely reeking of knock-off Boss cologne. This loser most likely has a watered down Manhattan in front of him, and nobody was within his 10-foot radius before you sat down. I’m sorry, but you might as well bid your friends fuckin adu, because this guy is going to demand your full attention for the next four hours. Everything will start off fairly fine, he will slide you a dirty business card and strike up a conversation about sports, pop culture, the news and the bar patrons... hell, he will probably even buy you a drink or two...but, heed my warning folks... as soon as he is done his 4th drink, FAKE YOUR DEATH ASAP, cause a big pile of corny shit is about to hit the metaphoric fan. He will regale you about the case of crabs he caught from his secretary before going home to meet his wife on their anniversary. He will tell you about how he’s been unemployed for the past 4 months, but dresses up to go to work, so his wife doesn’t figure out he's been going to Putters Inn every day to piss away their kids college fund. He'll enlighten you on the time back in college when he used to be the popular guy on campus, until pictures of him giving his roommate a handy on Halloween, showed up in the school paper. Its a guarantee that if you've reached this stage, that he will put his arm around you, cry, and tell you about what a great person you are... all the while everyone is laughing at you, and the friends you came in with are now finger banging the underage hostess. You are going to feel like a freight train from Depression Express just barreled through your life; therefore, thwarting any chance of physical bliss you were expecting to experience that evening. If you are unfortunate enough to have one of these guys sit next to you, do what I do... pretend you have a severe case of brain damage, pick up your beer mug and bludgeon the poor bastard to death. Hey, nobody in the bar will think twice. When you are considered a retard, outlandish violence is acceptable in society.
Congratulations, you are taking them out one by one... pretty soon you and your friends will be the only ones left in the place. Now, look up by the bathroom hallway. There is a boyfriend and girlfriend putting on a soft-core performance that Cinemax would blush at. Now don’t get me wrong, I support couples and being in love... hell, I’m in love right now, but you won't catch me dry humping my girlfriend in the corner of a filthy bar, in front of a gaggle of gropers, to the point that our corduroys start to spark and smoke. There are perfectly good bathroom stalls for that kind of action...I’m kidding...I think. Anyways, I have the ability to ignore this public fornication, but I know that there are tons of people that get extremely uncomfortable around this kind of stuff, but don’t fret! I have a problem solver for you, my friend! Find the guy in your group of pals that will do just about anything (every group of friends has one of these) for story purposes, we will refer to this friend as Will. So, tell Will to pull up a bar stool about 3 feet away from the caressing couple, pull out his ol shaft and sack and start to flog it while staring into the couples eyes. They will most likely stop, and shoot Will a glance of horror. At this point Will should say, "oh don’t mind me, this just reminded me of the internet, so I proceeded with what I associate with the internet." Most likely the lovebirds will feel more uncomfortable than you ever did, and run in horror. Ahh, young love is a beautiful miracle of life isn’t it?!
One group of people absolutely love the public lovers... who would you ask? The infamous Over-The-Hill Ooooogelers, that’s who! They come to young, college hangout bars for the sole purpose of trying to relive their youth with an almost illegal booty tap. Yes, these human disasters come in both male and female, but the males are much more prominent. Older men are dirty gross and vile... they are officially dubbed as dirty old men, (D.O.M.'s) ask for it by name! They sweat over young girls blabbering about their cheerleading competition, and invade the youngins' personal space, with the off chance hope that the blossoming "lovely lady lumps" will brush across their vas deferens, BLAAAH! You make me laugh hysterically, because you always think you have a chance and you always fail miserably! Let me tell you something, Adam Sandler said it best in 'Big Daddy', girls don’t want to have "that big white wrinkly body on top of them, with the loose skin and old balls", they just don’t! Unless you are Hugh Hefner, and they are the gold digger from Kanye West’s song, why the hell do you think they would want to bang someone from Mister Rodgers geriatric neighborhood, when they could be canoodeling with a strapping young lad? I don’t know what your old friend with dementia has been telling you at the Union Lodge, but he’s full of shit. I can't wait until you meet a young chick on the internet, drive 2 hours in your cutlass supreme thinking you have a chance at snapping her pelvis and right when you show up, you are sabotaged by the Dateline Catch a Predator Show. Maybe you will be in so much shock that your pacemaker shuts down and you die on television, while your clueless wife is watching and knitting a quilt. I love that show!
Lets see, whom do we have left? Ahhh, Mister College! Every craptastic stereotype of a college guy you can think of is found within this bumbling sack of cum crust. 'Animal House' college t-shirt over top his polo with a popped collar...CHECK! Betting people at the bar that he can beat them in a chug race... CHECK! Telling any guy he doesn’t know that he will kick their ass... CHECK! Carries a knife with him everywhere he goes… CHECK! First guy at the bar to pass out an hour into the evening... CHECK! I hate this cock; in fact I hate this guy like Jesus hates the Nazis. The funny thing is that he was the kid in elementary school, middle school and high school that would get his ass beat by just about everyone, even teachers. He went to school dances with his mom, sat alone at the lunch table playing "Magic: The Gathering" and was best friends with the bus driver (they even did a Secret Santa gift exchange) and now he’s a big shot? Give me a break. He’s still the same ol' frightened labia lip that he was back in the day, only in a disguise, so don’t be intimidated. Actually, walk up to him and demand that he buys you a shot, he of course, will decline... Just smile at him and walk away. Later on when he stumbles to the toilet, follow him, push him into the stall, dunk his head into the bowl and give him the mother of all swirlys. This will send him right back into the horror of his youth. Point and laugh at him, while you simultaneously write some derogatory jargon on the stall door about how he bangs his own mother. He will most likely weep uncontrollably, and that is the most opportune moment to demand his "lunch money" and by lunch, you mean shot. When you walk back to the bar, go up to his friends and tell them he felt tired and left, they will all immediately begin to hit on his girlfriend. Be patient hilarity is about to ensue... The crowning glory will be when "Shit Stain" gets enough courage to walk back out into the world and sees his buddies running a gravy train on the love of his life in a booth near the pool table. I guess that will teach you to stop acting like rectal rash, asshole! Oh and by the way, you pissed your pants and everyone is laughing at you even harder now. HAHAHA, looks like someone just got an invitation to take a bath with a toaster!
Ahh, what a night! Now you can live your bar experience to the fullest. Drink till you don’t feel feelings anymore, walk out on your bar tab, go to the double G for some taquitos and pass out on your doorstep. Don’t you feel like an accomplished human now? You successfully ruined a handful of lives tonight all the while enhancing yours. And rest assured, you were much more entertained then you would have been on a trip to the movie theater. Pat yourself on the back and go rest up, your gonna need the energy to do it all over again tonight!
Until next time, Im out like a mute kid with a winning Bingo card.
