The Drunken States of America

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Via College Humor!  Grog, if anyone questions your drinking, now you have an excuse.

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Hello guys n’ gals!

 

Moonshine here, shwasty-faced, as per usual.

You know, if alcohol ads said that what really happens when you drink, it would probably be less enticing. Or more, defpends if you like embarrassing yourself or nto, I guess.

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When I get drunk, I go full-on white girl drunbk, and that means, yes, dirty white girl dancing. Something about the music just moves tme to get up, and well, uy’know, actually MOVE myself, and so smtimes I dance.

 

Alot.

 

I think I danced for 20 minutes tonight, and did a summersault on the floor.

 

As my fiance says, I was being “cray.”

 

Oh well, white girl drunk or not, I’ve got another bottle to tear through and a pool table to obliterate and/or dance on. 

 

Fuzzy. Very.

Moonshine

DYSLEXICS, UNTIE! (Whoever made that word is a douche, because I can’t even spell it sober)

Tonight’s a screwdriver kinda night, and I’m a screwdriver kinda gal!Image

Is that dental floss in the background? You bet your arse, sweet cheeks! We love our teeth around here!

You see that, folks? That’s classiness right there.

Pinky out, ‘cause I’m one helluva classy lady.

I decided tonight that alcohol and Super Mario Bros. do not mix. To clarify, that’s the newer one where you’re on a team with your fiancé, and even though you bought him the Wii U for his birthday, he still doesn’t have the fuckin’ decency to let you be Mario for once… but I digress.

SMBs is quite the volatile concoc(k)tion for when you’re already tipsy and staring down the barrel of that screwdriver you only made because someone drank all of the cranberry juice and didn’t tell you.

You know what’s really satisfying? A huge, wet, sloppy…

 

…bowl of Pho.

(That’s pronounced ‘fuh’ for all of you uncultured swine.)

 What’dja think I was gonna say.

 Me? Make a dick joke? Not on your life, Nancy. Unless your name isn’t Nancy, in which case… maybe. If your name is Nancy, though, bad news, I sktraight up lied to yo face!

Nancy. Puh. The only “Nancy”s I know are bitches. There was “Just Say No” Nancy, and… uh, “Nancy-boy”? Alright, that’s reaching

OH 

Nancy Drew. She friend-zoned Frank Hardy so fast that boy had whiplash on their adventure to Egypt.

… No, YOU’RE showing your age!

(Sigh) I swear to god, guys, cultural references… get them. They’re not hipster, they’re just obscure.

I can’t be the only one who wanted the illicit romance between Nancy and Frank to happen, can I?! Besides, who the fuck wants to marry a guy named “Ned Nickerson” anyway? Fuckssake, they’d be Nancy and Ned Nickerson!

In conclusion—Nancy Drew: Crime Solving Bitch Face and Cockblock Extraordinaire.

Fuzzy, shits and giggles,

Moonshie 

 

 

 

Be Prepared!

I’m plotting something e-villlll!

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This Saturday is my fiance’s 27th birthday party! His actual birthday is today, but it doesn’t count because we’re not drinking yet.

He has requested what we refer to as a “crunk party”, which in this case means that EVERYONE gets drunk all throughout the day. Sisters, brothers in law, mother, father–we’re hitting the booze hard and we’re doing it ALL DAY LONG.

We’re starting it off classy with mimosas at midday (and I’ve got the Barefoot Pink Moscato Bubbly, and if you’ve never had that shit then clearly your tongue has never orgasmed.) followed by our special cosmos and cosmo shots all afternoon!

Basically, vodka. Lots of vodka.

You’d think we were Russian or something, jeez.

Anyway, as a special post, I’m going to make him divulge his drunk thoughts to you on Saturday, so look for it, because that boy is CRAY when he’s schwasty-faced.

Keep it fuzzy,

Moonshine