the greatest excuse ever

A while back I saw a study about intelligent people being prone to drink more.  As an intelligent person (duh) I took this as great rationalization for my drinking, “I’m smart I can’t help it.”  The huge counterpoint I make to this is, I’ve seen a ton of not-so-intelligent mofuckers drink habitually as well.  So really, people drink. Dumb ones, smart ones, ugly ones… me. You.

Or at least you should, smart people do…

Today, I saw a news report that reaffirmed my lifestyle even more.

My natural response to this video was (in a valley girl voice). “Chaa, of course us smart people do drugs. I do drugs.”

The scientists (scientists? idk) say that if you have a higher IQ you are more likely to be open to new experiences, i.e. drugs and alcohol.

Is this information a way for us to explain our lifestyles, or simply some bullshit excuse for our fuckupedness?

I don’t know. I don’t really care.

Maybe that’s the problem.

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***Wine

Magic trick time.  I am going to change your perception of what gross is and what gross can be. I want you to think of the grossest, worstest alcohol you have ever muscled through just for a buzz.

Focus on it. Real hard. Yeah, like that. The grossest thing ever….

Now, realize that in order to change your perception of gross, I have to show you something really fucking gross.  I mean, oh mein gott it’s gross.

—I feel half bad for calling it gross, since it is a cultural practice.  Gross is a subjective adjective.  One man’s gross is another man’s gourmet.

With that said, this shit is sofa king gross.  You’ve been warned….

Now, think about the grossest alcohol ever you muscled through just for a buzz.  It doesn’t seem so bad anymore does it?

Did the trick work?  Have your perceptions changed?  Let me know in the comments.

The full documentary about Korean Poop Wine can be found here.

Shazaam, bitches!

Sometimes, I even get lucky with myself.

Sometimes, I even get lucky with myself.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with the fact that I polish off 2-3 bottles of wine per week.

There is even less wrong with the fact that I’m often doing this on my own. While doing homework. In the bath. Walking my dogs.

Seriously, it’s a great bonding experience with myself.

Rainbows and sunshine, peeps!

~ Grog

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 

 

 

 

National Rum Day: August 16th!

National Rum Day: August 16th!

Whaaaaaaat?

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

Be Prepared!

I’m plotting something e-villlll!

Image

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