Elin Woods, I feel for you. Getting cheated on is the most sickening feeling I’ve ever felt. Not only do you feel absolutely betrayed, but you view yourself as completely worthless. I remember how stupid I was with my first ‘real’ girlfriend. It makes me ill to remember the person I was while dating her. What a vagina. We once had a phone conversation during the winter break of my freshman year of college that went a little something like this.
Ricky: I hope you like those flowers I sent to your house. I sent them on a Monday so all your girlies could be jealous all week. Where are ya? Are you on the treadmill? You sound winded.
Pookie: O, just at a friend’s place.
Ricky: Are you at Cindy’s or Jess’?
Pookie: Neither
Ricky: Well where are you sills nills?
Pookie: I’m actually at Dusty’s. He threatened to kill himself again if I didn’t see him. I’m the only one who can make him feel better.
Ricky: O…I don’t really like you going over to your ex-boyfriend’s, but I trust you. Tell him to feel better. When can I meet him? I know he’s still one of your best friends.
(4-5 second silence)
Ricky: Hello? Hello? Pooks?
Dusty: Hey man this is Dusty. Listen, Pookie doesn’t want to be with you anymore. She’s back with me now.
Ricky: What? We just made sweet love last week after the holiday cruise. I don’t believe you!
Dustin: Love? That’s funny. I mean it’s cute and all, but we just fucked.
Ricky: (bitchy crying voice) Why are you doing this?
Pookie: Ricky look…we had sex a bunch of times. What did you think, I was going to marry you? We’re not together anymore. I want to be with Dusty.

(more…)

Practically everyone I know loves to drink at least once in a while. Nothing can celebrate something great in your life, or get you out of a rut like a nice stiff drink of your choice. The problem with my drinking habits however is that I still can’t drink casually. Drinking one beverage automatically triggers the desire to drink until I get the pre-puke hiccups. I’d rather drink a stirred “beagle piss on the rocks” then be teased with a couple beers, only to be forced to abruptly stop pounding.

Casual drinking is for babies

I still drink to get fucked up. Not to sound cool, I’ve been drinking since I was 13. I have fond teenage memories of my brother and I stealing the same bottles of booze from my mom. When I’d try to steal some vodka, my drink would just taste like watered down Sprite. That bastard would always get to it first and fill it back up with some water. Vodka magically froze in the freezer thanks to us. Despite drinking for a while, I still black out on a regular basis. I know my limits but still find a need to push my limits towards retardation. Nothing positive ever comes from being blacked out. You either fuck a wildebeest, drive into a pre-school’s playground slide, or simply wake up confused in a jail-cell with a mustard stained wife beater and assless chaps showing your backwards underwear you have on. It’s always tough when the boxer dick hole exposes your asshole. Awful things like this are expected, considering that when you drink your ass off you are poisoning your body, but more specifically your brain. When you’re blacked out your brain gets pissed off and says, “Fuck this, you’re on your own buddy.” It takes a first class flight to a quaint tropical island called St. Blackouticus until morning. While your brain is on holiday sipping pina coladas by the pool, your body is left to fend for itself on autopilot.

Have a nice trip to Blackoutville

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