National Rum Day: August 16th!

National Rum Day: August 16th!


You didn’t know it was National Rum Day?

You bet your skid-marked britches that’s a real holiday, folks, and this drunkard – enthusiastically points at self – plans to celebrate hardcore tonight.

Don’t think my lack of recent posts means I’ve gone all soberfied on you – to be honest, I’ve just drank so much most nights that I’m barely able to avoid walking into walls and NOT wetting myself has become a heroic feat of strength. Yup, I’m walking that precarious line between functioning alcoholic and table-dancing, vomit-in-the-hair, raging alcoholic quite nicely.

I swear on my bottle of Captain Morgan’s that I shall not get too sloshed to post this weekend and, in honor of National Rum Day, I’ll even try not to moon anyone before midnight.

Farting rainbows,

~ Grog


Something Super Important

Yeah, I’ll write the blog! But not until I get my got damned pajama pants on. Good. Continue, you fucking idiot.  (I’ll take things I say to myself for a thousand, Alex)

I was lucky enough to find an orange soda in the fridge tonight upon my arrival from the Beee Aye Arrghhhh (bar? duh), but that isn’t what this is blog about. This blog is about…

And at this point in writing the blog I got distracted by the following things in the following order.  Is it cool to just post the links?  No one ever told me the rules to this shit. – fo reals. – if you can’t dig this beat you have a hole in your soul. Seeing Mictlan in the last video made me think of this.  The piano at the end is to die for. – this shit just dropped.  Maybe in the future we will talk about democratized tools and how they have enhanced the world of action sports. I’ll get all sorts of nerdy on your bitch asses… If you’re lucky. 

You might be thinking to yourself, well it would take me an awful lot of time to go through all those links.  Yeah, well, if you’ve ever talked to a drunkard then you know it’s sort of a commitment and long windedness is sort of expect. And by god*, you just might learn something…


What was this blog about again?  It’s not about the extremely entertaining romance that randomly popped into my life this last week. Oh no, it’s not about that.  It’s about something way more imporant.   Something that needs to be talked about.

Personally, I am a fan of oral sex, dogs, and riding bmx(almost in that order, bike to dog, eh). 

What does that have to do with fucking anything?  I’ll tell you what it fucking has to do with anything.


You see that shit?  What the fuck?

About now you are realizing why this is way more important than anything else in existence.  If you were a faithful reader (I love you) then you engaged in all those links up there and can put together the meme with the last link.  It’s BMX!


The rider is performing a 180 tire grab, where in he/she/they hops, spins 180 degrees, and grabs the front tire.  But we all know that isn’t the most interesting thing in this picture.  I’m not even going to talk about the interesting things about this picture, because you have eyes.  And I suppose you are blind a reader listening to this through brail then you are up shit creek with a turd for a paddle.  I wish you could see this shit.

This meme was brought to my attention by a wise man on Facebook.  After short deliberation, we established that it may be photoshopped. I don’t know if it is.  All I know is that it is entertaining as hell (I hope it’s not photoshopped).

Bmx. Head. Threeway dog gangbang.  Do I need to explain why this is more important than anything ever?  No.  I didn’t fucking think so.

I would also like to add that I pointed at my webcam and asked the man if he liked that web search – bmx. head. dog gangbang. Bitch…  I know you’re watching…

Is it photoshopped? You tell me.


* Have you ever noticed that spellcheck always tells you to capitalize god?  I taught my computer to be an atheist, no more squiggly red lines. Huh? What? Yeah.

Night Night.


Sometimes you write poetry while you’re fucked up–and sometimes it’s amazing, just because, y’know, you’ve got the goods. For those of you who don’t care for poetry, this post isn’t for you. Or it will be. Go drink more, then get back to me. This shit is real when you’re effed.



Above me lay the night sky,

The clouds with splendor deep,
The whirlwinds of the breeze,
The shadow’s chilling creep.

I watched the pavement pass,
Under each softly falling shoe,
The blurs becoming solid,
Of a sedimentary hue.

The branches bare of growing,
Our minds like smoke clogged flasks,
But on this nighttime feeling,
Exists no will to ask.

The pavement rose to meet me,
Yet I fell just as fast,
And suddenly I could but stare,
Into distant morning’s past.

The world unearthed, and tilted,
My vision slanted in,
A drug induced euphoria,
To remind me of my sin.

And somehow in this emptiness,
This vacancy of thought,
My mind is still but stirred,
To bring forth the sadness wrought.

Hollowness inside these bones, 
Leaks forth like a sieve,
Dripping out from vacant eyes,
On such a way to live-


I 100% guatrantee that I am drunk as fuck while writing this and that NONE of it is proofread.

If you didn’t read that in Timon’s voice from The Lion King then you clearly have not watched it recently. I, for one, have.


I have been drinking for the past three hours…with my fiancé, of course, so I’m not a total lush, okay? We’re three bottles of wine in an wishing that we’d bought more. I didn’t anticipate that ew could go through three so easily. We’re sitting here discussing such dystopian topics as the future and wonderin where that leaves us in the long wrong. Whoa. I meant run. I don’t know why it came up like thiat.

Look, this is harder than it seems, okaY ? Seriouisly, I had so much wine, and we’re sitting here listening to Mega Man music, because that’s how boss we are. We get drunk and listen to Mega Man music and it always makes me feel like I’m in the middle of  aboss fight. I wonder if I’d win though, if I were really Iin a boss fight. I bet I’d wind up curled in a ball on the floor begging for mercy. It’s not that I’m not tough—no, maybe it is. I’m not tough. I like to pretend I am, but then I get a splinter or a hangnail and that façade is fucking over, you dig? No one’s tough fwhen it comes to that. Or tiny pimples. Tiny pimples are simply the worst thing to ever happen to a human being. The only thing worse is a tiny pimple directly under your nostril, and when you try and pop it it makes your eyes water. THOSE are the worst.

How do you type the soundswhen you make helicopter noises with your mouth? Like pfewewewewewew I don’t know. Honestly, no—wait, airplane noises? Maybe. Something rotary, I don’t know. Why nisn’t there a character for every sounds that your mouth makes? It’s unbelievable that whoa, I cazn’t believe I spelled that right. But it’s unbelievable that every book at we have ever read is comprised of 26 letters. That’s it. PEW. MIND BLOWN. But I guess it’s also equally cool that everything in our bodies is mainly carbon. Carbon. Is. The. Bomb. Diamonds are carbon, and I love them. Dogs are also sommat carbon, and I love them too. Carbon. Who knew?

Yesterday…no, wait, not yesterday, the day before, I went and saw Turbo, and guess what? It was fucking cute. I’ve never liked snails before. I’ve always just sort of, y’know, tolerated them, I guess. It’s not like you ever see a snail and you’re just like, “Whoa, it’s a snail, how cool!”, because basically you’re a liar if you said that. Unless yhou’re an entomologist or some shit. Wait, snails are gastropods, right? Whatever. I bet insect scientists study them. ANYWAY

Turo was cute, and it literally had me on edge when the little dude was in the Indianapolis 500. You know who friggin made that movie though? Paul goddamn Giamatti. You would know him from such insanely cool films as Shoot ‘em Up, if you’re on the level. I’m going to assume you’re not and you need to go see that movie right now, because let me tell you what—it’s  an hour and a half of mindless violence, sex, and crappy puns, and it’s AMAZING. I make everyone I know watch it. WATCH IT.

Anywya, this is probably nonsense. I can’t remeber my original point. OH YEAH. Idiocracy is high up on my list of movies to see. It’s pretty much a fortuneteller of the future, you hear? We’re gonna go and watch it now, if we can stop listening to such grooooovy tunes as Duff McWhalen. I don’t know. Maybe we’re gonna drink some more or something. YOu should look up everything in this article that I’ve named because it’s all relevant and AWESOEM.

Did I mention it was awesome? Because it totally is. Also, don’t drink kids, because it totally fucks with your head. Wait unti; your braincells are fully developed efore you kill them. We’re gonna listen to Shield Sheldon now, and if you don’t know what that is, may god have mercy on your deprived soul.

Until next time, boys and girls, (and you bet your ass there is a nexst time.)

Keep it fuzzy,


The only sober post.

Since it’s 1:30pm on a Friday and the opportunity to down a margarita has not yet presented itself, we’ve decided to kick this blog off with an initial post.

There will be two main writers on this blog, both of whom promise to be unashamedly wasted when they post. For that reason, don’t expect too many posts during the daylight hours; unless, of course, the alcohol in their system hasn’t fully worn off from the night before.

Since there is a strong chance for incoherence in upcoming blogs, we wanted to give you a quick introduction to your alcoholics:

Moonshine –

A blonde, mid-20s firecracker living in Georgia.

Grog –

A pre-30 writer desperately clinging to her youth with purple hair and lots of vodka.

Together, these two women hope to provide you with consistent entertainment and hijinks while doing their best to obliterate their livers before 40.

More to come, but that’ll have to wait until Happy Hour.

Tick tock,