Mar
28
2012

Bar crawl recap: Annual St. Patrick’s Day Parade of Drunken Monkeyshines

If you weren’t there, you missed out—suckers!  Just kidding: We still love you. And really, we just feel bad for you that you missed all the claptrap AND the filmflam. Pro tip: That will teach you to trust your drinking-related activities to anyone other than The Alcohol Enthusiast. 

Check out a few memorable moments we have no memory of below, then hit up our Facebook page (and fan us, you fuckers) to see the full version of the fully-humiliating photo album. 

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Jul
03
2010

Be proud, Enthusiasts!

—Jason

I don’t usually wax philosophical (preferring more often to wax off—bah dump chssht!), but I wanted to take a moment to question a few things about drinking, or rather attitudes towards it here in the good ol’ US of A.

I’m talking about all the raised eyebrows and whispers around the watercooler when you show up to work hungover, the hangdog looks and the “I’m sorrys” that accompany particularly great nights out with the boys, even the stern talks with yourself in the mirror Saturday morning when you find the 200 bucks you took out for the whole weekend is now $16.89.

It’s a deep-seated thing, a bad genetic memory even—this Puritanical notion that drinking is bad. Not bad for you, or bad for the earth or bad tasting, but just simply Bad. Morally reprehensible. Evil. Wrong. There’s a stigma surrounding drinking and it’s especially prevalent in the US, where a good many of us are descended from our European brethren who made a run for it way back in the day. It runs deep in many and it’s time we put things in perspective.

I would like to posit to our readers that drinking is not only not bad, but good—even healthy and beneficial to the bodies, minds and souls of those that decide to partake of the Enthusiast’s much-maligned drug of choice. Here’s why:
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Jun
11
2010

4 incredibly assed-out things that I do when I’m drunk

 

#4: Try to get your dog drunk.

Look, this one’s horrible. You should never give a dog alcohol. But when I get rippin’, I will try. (I could include high, but that takes a little work and let’s face it; if you are going to work that hard to get a dog to inhale a popper or swallow some X, it’s pretty much a foregone conclusion that you intend to fuck it. Good pet owners, shit, even bad ones—the kind they arrest on “Animal Cops”—have the foresight to remove their animal from your vicinity before said fuckage occurs.)

Anyway. Somehow cats have the foresight to get themselves the hell out of these situations, and go knock around the mouse turds on the top of your fridge, but dogs will walk into any goddamn room with people in it and start eating and drinking anything at their eye level. Ashtrays. Bongwater. And oh yes, that dish of Mickey’s I just poured.

Fucking relax. This is a close up of Joan Rivers trying to kiss her own reflection. In some bongwater I spilled.

Before you go call PETA, I should let you know that I have never successfully pulled this off. Apparently, dogs don’t like the smell of shame or failure, both of which emanate strongly from me and have permeated my clothing.

“I don’t love them clothes.”

See?
 

#3: SHOUT EVERY SINGLE THING I SAY.

Like:

“BRO! BRO-BRO! CHECK OUT YOUR DOG! DUDE! MAN! HE’S SO FUCKING WAAAAAYSTED!”
“…the fuck, man…My dog isn’t moving, dude! What’d you do to him?

“SO LIKE, WHAT? YOU AND YOUR MAN HAVIN’ TROUBLES? YOU NEED TO TALK? YOU SHOULD COME OVER AND CHECK OUT MY STEREO…MY DAD GOT IT FOR ME…YEAH, HE OWNS A DEALERSHIP…”
“Dude. Why are you talking to my girlfriend?”

“…BUT I’M LIKE, COOL WITH IT, ‘COS IT’S NOT GAY IF YOUR BALLS DON’T TOUCH, RIGHT?? RIGHT??”
“Um, yeah, man. It kind of is.”

“HELL YEAH I’LL DRINK PAINT THINNER!! THINNA!! YEEEEEAH! THINNA FO DINNA! THINNADINNA! THINNAMADINDIN!! WHOOOOO!”
“Hey, can you chill out just a bit? You need to calm down.”
 

#2: Find a way to sing “Baby Got Back.”

I LIKE BIG BUTTS ON A CAN OF FLIES! YOUR OTHER BROTHER MOTHER AND MINE!

The kitchen was packed a moment ago….bitches can’t handle my hand of conga…

I’m not sure I need to elaborate on this much more…
 

#1: Piss everywhere BUT the toilet.

I don’t know what makes me think I am clever when I stumble into your bathroom and pee on every roll of toilet paper in there, but I gotta say, it’s funny as shit when I’m doing it.

In hindsight, I’m pretty sure that nothing puts a woman in a throat punching, stiletto heel heart stabbing, testicle crushing, murderous rage than having your skirt around your waist and grabbing a handful of piss sopped pulp to wipe with. Fortunately, you can gratify those throat-punchy, heart-stabby, ball-crushy urges practically instantly, because I’ll just be in the next room telling my “secret” to the dudes.

By shouting it.

DUDE, DUDE! DON’T SAY ANYTHING BUT I JUST PISSED ALL OVER THE PLACE! I DECIMATED EVERY ROLL KEVIN HAS, MAN! DUDE! NO ONE CAN TOP THAT!!

Oh, wait.

(This may explain the sexual “Dry Spell” I went through from 1989-2009.)
Wipe that fucking smirk off your face. 2010 ain’t over yet.

 
—Jason

Dog photo courtesy of Mike Fischer,  flickr.
Snoop photo courtesy of chicagofabulous,  flickr.
Drunk dancing photo courtesy of melle oh, flickr.
R Kelly photo courtesy of andrew steinmetz, flickr.
Joan Rivers photo courtesy of david shankbone, flickr.