Top 7 drinks that smash you surprisingly fast

Brilliance. I plan to drink all of these (times ten) this weekend.

-Grog

Lords of the Drinks

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Ever had that moment when you feel like letting go of everything and letting alcohol rush in your blood? Have you wanted to sense the sweet and warm intoxication of your booze in no time? Lords of the Drinks will tell you about 7 beverages that will bring dizziness in your head before you’re ready to say “I’m drunk.”

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Peacocks

OK. Grog here. I’m definitely feeling… good.

Tonight was a close friend’s birthday party. We went to dinner at Kobe’s [shit’s expensive, but fucking AMAZING] and then out for some delicious craft beer at World of Beer
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Tonight, in my bright pink jumper and high heels, I seemed to be a magnet for creeps. Like, legitimate creepos.

Men are like peacocks. When they spot a female, they spread their wings out and flaunt their feathers, desperate for attention.

One guy seemed intent on shoving his feathers right under my eyeballs – and keeping them there ALL NIGHT.

A total slimeball approached our table – of 8 people at World of Beer – and he wouldn’t leave. He was wasted before he even walked over, barely able to stand. Rather than make small talk… he basically started an argument [about sports, of all things] the second he walked up. When I politely [I was only 2 drinks in, mind you] disgreed, he GRABBED MY FUCKING ARM.

Dude.

You don’t touch someone you don’t know.

You really don’t touch someone who is married to a 6’4″, 215 lb Mexican man.

What the FUCK were you thinkng?

I tried to play nice. This guy was shit-faced, talking about UCF vs. FSU vs. UF. He was shit-talking practically every Florida team. He was so wasted, he didn’t know his ASS from his elbow. Seriously. I was honestly surprised he was standing.

I’m a UCF grad that follows UF, but I’m pretty open about sports. Fuck, I’m a girl. I’m impressed that I keep up with sports. This guy should have been equally floored by my knowledge of the game.

Unfortunately, he was not. He was PISSED that I was a UF fan.

He was an FSU fan. That attends UCF. That is 31 and has 130 credit hours that he’s been working on since he was 18 and hasn’t graduated.

Yeah…. this guy was a definite winner.

So, needless to say, he’s probably 10-12 drinks deep, totally wasted, and becomes argumentative with me and several guys at the table.

Then… he grabs my arm.

Oh.

OH NO.

You do NOT touch this lady. I may be petite. I may be fucking blonde. But you do NOT TOUCH THIS GIRL.

BAM!

A punch from me, right into the shoulder.

Pause.

CRUNCH.

A punch from my husbamd, right into this guy’s nose.

My husband is NOT a fighter. He and I both agree that violence is not the answer. However, if you GRAB A GIRL’S ARM – your ass is grass, dude.

So… yeah.

A calm night out turned into a broken nose for an FSU fan and wannabe-graduate of UCF.

I’m not a violent person. I don’t like seeing people hurt. However, sometimes, it’s nice to see a peacock deplumed (sp?) once in a while, you know?

Shitting rainbows and farting sunshine, people 🙂

~ Grog

P.S. Our waitress felt so bad about the shit-head that she bought us a round of beer. Meanwhile, bloody-nose stood outside with his friends, waiting for the cops to show up…and arrest him for disorderly conduct! Bwahahaha. Sometimes karma DOES work out.

FUCK

I do so solemnly swearr that I am on cosmopolitan number 4. 

I am Fuhhhhhhhed up, y’all. You know the great thing about the phrase y’all? And let’s not kid ourselves, it’s a phrse more than a contraction of the words “Upi” and “all”. No, wait, that’s not right, it’s “you” and “all”. I fat fingered the keyboar. Keyboard.

 

I spent the batter half of the night waiting for my fiancé to come home and drink withme and then I watched Masterpiece Theatre with my soon to be in laws, and you know what? It was fucking awesome! We totally stayed up until 1130 now itsss 130 and my fiance and ai are drunk as HELL and he totally did a party foul and spilled his cosmo on the floor and we were sad until we remember ed thatterher were more cosmos. 

 

Do you’s now what it’s like when you’re so frubnk that you cry over shit that you should;t? I’m passed that point now. Seriously, I already cried. True story: I am not watching when I’m typing this whole sentence lalalalalalalalalala

Hell yeah! I did that with NO TYPS. 

 

Oh, fuck. No, no typose. No–No typos!!! Yay! 

 

I’m gonna drink number 5. I think it’s number f5. 

Also, y’all, I atae a twinkie, and it was AWMAESING. That’s a combination of awesome and amazing, by the way. FJcl I shouldn’t be writing.

 

Fuzzy and all that shit,

MOonshine

Kickball!

Grog here.

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So, for those that don’t know, I’m on a CoEd kickball league.

We play every Thursday night.

Our goal?

To get shit-faced. And to win. But, primarily, to get shit-faced.

During the course of the game, I had two pints of beer. I kicked ass and scored two runs.

Couldn’t have too much to drink, as someone decided to bring their kids, as seen in the photo. Party-fucking-spoilers.

Don’t get me wrong – I love kids. Just not at 9pm at night when I have a cooler packed full of delicious beer and jello shots. I look forward to this game every week and there had always been an unspoken rule about creatures under three feet tall: if it’s not on a leash, we don’t want it here. Guess that was forgotten this week.

Regardless, we played and we played hard.

We won the FUCK outta that shit.

We’re now celebrating with straight shots of vodka.

If it weren’t for spell check and autocorrect, this post would be utter nonsense. I’m doing this from my phone, can you believe it? Technology is fuckin amaze-balls.

So, all this booze has got me thinking…

What is it about competition that motivates us? Do I really want to pummel that bitch on second base? Or is that some latent, primal instinct that normally lays dormant inside me but is somehow triggered when a red, rubber ball is placed in my hand?

Oh, we’re playing kickball? I thought this was dodgeball. Sorry for throwing this directly in your face. Perhaps you shouldn’t paint black stripes under your eyes and get a manicure on the same day, second base, because I will eat you alive. I have all day to look pretty. Right now, I’ve got blood-lust and I’m ready to score a run, regardless of where you plant yourself.

Oh, were you safe? Huh. Ball must have slipped out of my hands and slammed into your frontal lobe. Damn inertia! Can’t stop that shit once it’s in motion!

Oh, our second round of shots just arrived.

If you can excuse me for a minute, I’ve got a Kamikaze to throw back.

Rainbows and sunshine out the ass.

~ Grog

Salut! Prost! Whatever the shit!

Good evening, you soggy-bottomed sons of bitches.

I am RummyTummy, aka Brother Mayhem, aka the guy that your grandma scowled at while he held the door open for her at the convenient store – what’s her fuckin problem!? You never seen a tattoo before!?

So yeah.

I was invited here by Grog and Moonshine to share my drunkardly thoughts with you, my lovely loverly audience.  They gave me free reign to do as I please and that is as much as any human being can ask.  So let’s hope I don’t disappoint them.  Cheers, mates!

Adorn your rubber panties cuz this shit is about to get wild…. mildly. Mildly Wild, which just so happens to be the name of my number one debut album.

Found only in my dreams.

Ahem…

Onward!  Tonight’s poison is damn near a pint of Sailor Jerry’s spiced rum with cherry Pepsi – I usually go for coke at the bar but I’m at home so whatever whatever.

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And a shot of Hornitos because it is National Tequila Day, after all.  Isn’t that goat fucking AWESOME!? He – it –  makes me incredibly happy.  That sweater… Aaaaaaw.

I want to play a game that gets us acquainted with one another.  It’s called “Pick the Lie,” or some shit.  There has to be a better name…   It’s a fun little icebreaker you can use on a date or at the bar.  Here is how the game goes down…

I tell you three facts about myself; one of those facts is a total lie.  It is up to you, the savvy reader – my assumed partner for the night – to pick the lie… or some shit.

Are you ready for this?  All of these facts are true, except one…  Tell us, The Drunken Writers, which one of these facts is a lie in the comments below.

Fact #1

I, Brother Mayhem, aka the guy typing this, has had his balls – his motherfuckin’ testicles – ultra sounded not once, BUT TWICE during his entire existence of damn near 27 years.  It wasn’t as hot as you’d imagine.

Fact #2

I was once arrested for being half drunk, naked, and smoking a cigarette on my lover’s back porch.  Yes, I was too lazy to get dressed before having a cig. Yes, I realize that this is a public area.

Fact #3

I once Grey-Hounded halfway across the country to meet a girl I met playing online checkers.  This is some straight up Napoleon Dynamite shit – at least that’s what the friends said.

Which one is the lie?  You tell me in the comments below, right before I take you home and…

ALSO AND:

I would like Moonshine and Grog to share their own secrets and lies with our savvy and assumed one-night houseguests…

Bow Chicka Wow Wow

Be safe, friends.

Another Round!

Hello, my darling lushes!

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Grog and I would love to give you a sobering introduction to the newest member of our silly band of drunken writers…

Please give a long, raucous and inappropriate welcome to:

Rummytummy, our new resident drunkard!

Why, hello there.  😉

He’s here to take the hit to his liver in the hours when Grog and I are recuperating. You didn’t think we’d leave you all down just ‘coz we’re hungover, didja?

(Cause if you did, that’s just rude, okay? We talked about this, and I thought we understood one another, but I guess that’s just not the case. We will discuss this when we get HOME.)

Please give him a sloshy welcome to the team, and raise your glasses in a toast for many more drunken escapades to come!

Happy National Tequila Day! Show your livers how much cha really hate ‘em.

Keep it fuzzy,

Moonshine