drinking with a side of camping: part two

day one, night two.
bong more alcohol.
because sleep is for pussies.

then burn a bunch of shit.

somewhere in the middle of all of this we eat something.  

but then back to bonging.

then find our hats.

oh, fuck the hats.  more bonging.

feel like fucking champions.

worship a false idol.

then someone does the obligatory puking.
then everyone does the passing out.
then everyone hates their lives the next morning.

then we get excited for 2K13.

drinking with a side of camping: part uno (which is spanish for the number one)

i'm going to tell you a story.
about camping.  
we do it every year.  and we all get super excited about it and then we drink an unhealthy amount and hate everyone in the world by sunday (which i suppose is par for the course on like every weekend).  so i thought maybe you would want to see some pictures.  because they're terribly awesome.  
but there are a lot.  
so there might be like two installments.  
or maybe three.  
i'm not sure.

night one.
set up camp.  
which includes unloading all the useless crap someone bought from goodwill.

then proceed to party with some ridiculous hats someone also bought from goodwill.

then rejoice because someone brought ninety hot dogs.

then celebrate the hot dogs with bonging beer and boxed wines.

then do unspeakable things to the barbies with the hot dogs.

then laugh about it.

then continue celebrating.

my liver just cramped up reliving this.

Textual Feeling: Nonsensical Babbling

shitler and i had this conversation while in bed the other night.

i still don't know what it means.

shitler: i'm going to scratch pet you.
me: what the fuck does that mean?
shitler: scratch pets.
me: i feel like that would be more effective with steel wool.  whatever it is.
shitler: my dick is called steel pole.

i feel like he's trying to give me his steel pole in the middle of boxed wine bonging.

Textual Feeling: B's B-Day!

in trying to honor b on the day of his birth and his cursed existence in my life since i encountered him however many years ago - i give you these:

***

me: i had asparagus with dinner last night and my pee has smelled alllll day.
b: i love when that happens.

***

b: why aren't we supposed to cry over spilled milk?  if not cleaned up properly, spilled milk can get pretty nasty.  that seems like something to cry over.

------ (this is me ignoring him)

b: 

------ (this is me ignoring him again)

b:



------ (me ignoring him)

b: EVENTUALLY YOU WILL RESPOND TO ME.
me: those are old news bitch.
b: la dee da.  i just had them sent to me.  sorry for thinking you'd enjoy them too.  now answer my question.
me: i guess my answer would be that i wouldn't give a shit because a dog or cat would lick it up and it wouldn't be my fucking problem anymore.
b: why are you so bitchy today?
me: i need a drink.

***

b: well, it's what she wants.
me: all that she wants?
b: you got it.
me: what about another baby?
b: that's me.  duh.
me: quit being obtuse and acknowledge my ace of base reference.
b: nope.  i refuse to give you that satisfaction.

***

so here's to b.  on his fucking bday.  

here's to many more times we get hammered and make poor choices while shitler judges us, to hours spent watching "my cat from hell," and to discussing books and how much we love them in front of shitler till his head explodes.  

to vodka presses (with lime -because if you prefer them without - odds are you're a fucking communist) and john daly's, and ranch dressing on the thighs of hot girls.

to daring me to steal shit when i get drunk out of my skull, to encouraging you to drunk dial people and leave embarrassing messages, and most importantly - here's to poor-decision making (especially on your bday).

The Fucking Trepidation Takes Over

today is the day.
the day i eat and drink my face off. 
and while i was initially very excited - i'm now terrified. 
terrified for how shit-tastic i will feel.
terrified for the hangover.
bear with me.  i've been eating shit like this for the last 75 days:

i've been fantasizing about this each and every day since i've started this diet:

i'm not even exaggerating about thinking about tacos everyday.  just ask shitler.  if i remembered what i dreamt about every night i bet it would be about tacos.
so tonight i feast.
while i'm sure it will be partly glorious, i'm convinced it will be mostly awful on my body and liver and i'll want to die.
so to recap.
orginially, i felt like this:

now it's more like this: 

Textual Feeling: Menace 2 Sobriety

i was bored this morning - so i perused my textual conversation with b.
here's a rag-tag bunch of shit that doesn't go together other than that it's all ridiculous:
me: mmmm.  redzone
b: fuck you.  thanks for rubbing it in.  i'm about to eat quiche!
**
b: i'm a little disappointed in you right now.
me: i had to give people balls.
b: you should have dyed the frosting blue.
me: fitting.  the next batch.
**
me: i just saw the delorean.
b: wait, THE delorean?
me: it could very well have been.
b: could you see the flux capicitor?  that's the only way to know for sure.
me: i couldn't.  it was going too fast.
b: fast enough to time travel?
me: i'd like to think so.
b: me too.
me: because if you can't believe in the delorean, what can you believe in?
b: nothing.  besides, maybe back to the future was based on a true story and we don't even know it.
me: we should watch it.  for scientific purposes.
b: of course.  sometimes you have pretty good ideas.
**
b: happy new year slut.
me: happy new year asshat.
b: go fuck yourself.
me: done.
b: amen.
**
me: next weekend.  cancel all your plans.  i'm getting "i need to get my stomach pumped because i have alcohol poisoning" drunk.
b: let me check my schedule.
**
with all due respect to my liver - i'm going to punish it this weekend.
i make no apologies.

here's hoping that this weekend will simultaneously turn out to be the best and worst one of my life.  lincoln told me to be reasonable -but i can't make any promises.

my weekend consists of:
dildos
binge eating
vodka
debauchery
work
being hungover
making bad choices

here's a picture of what i think is my game face:

Sobriety Sucks - But At Least it's Made Me Slightly More Productive

i love vodka.  i love the bar.  i love drinking. 

so anyone that truly knows me, knows i'm usually full of shit when i say i'm going to stop drinking.

but back in October, i decided that i wanted to stop being so fucking chubby.  so i went on a diet.  which meant i had to give up my dearest friend, vodka.  most doubted me.  and with good reason.  i'm not very good at following through with things i say i'm going to do.  but  i must say, fuck you very much, for those that didn't believe i could do it (Lincoln) because it's now been thirty-two days on this motherfucking diet with zero alcohol.

don't get me wrong - it's been fucking miserable.  aside from waking up and not feeling like a piece of shit, the only other plus has been that i've actually dropped weight.

so, although many of you could care less, i am presenting the last thirty-two days in the form of pictures and words. 

enjoy or destroy.

first and foremost.  i've read an assload of books in the last month.

• The Help


• The Kite Runner


• Orange is the New Black


• The Hunger Games trilogy (for the love of all that's holy - READ THESE)

become more obsessed with all things related to cooking and baking and blogging.

• made Mexican Manicotti


• perfected my meatloaf


• made cake balls, cookies, mini cheesecakes, truffles, and peppermint bark


• loved up on many of my favorite blogs like this one, this one, and this one.

discovered many things about the pussy residing in our house.

[caption id="attachment_518" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="relax PETA. he's being supervised when he plays in the plastic bag."][/caption]

[caption id="attachment_519" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="he LOVES Nati Light."][/caption]

learned that Lincoln loves his new shotgun more than me (i'm not even kidding.  the night he got it he suggested i sleep on the couch).

[caption id="attachment_522" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="i named her Eleanor."][/caption]

found that i truly enjoy encouraging/peer pressuring others to binge drink.

[caption id="attachment_525" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="firm grip there Lincoln."][/caption]

crafted x-mas presents.  i would post pictures but i will refrain (even though they turned out awesome).  i don't want to assume that people even read this blog, but with my luck the people getting said gifts will see them here and everything will be ruined.

watched Foy learn how to eat a crab leg.

[caption id="attachment_526" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="not the proper form, but i'll accept it."][/caption]

learned that Murphy Lee is a HUGE Rush fan.  and that Lincoln hates clothing for dogs.  but i don't think band tees should count.

[caption id="attachment_527" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Exit the warrior, today's Tom Sawyer"][/caption]

 this is unrelated.  but G bought me this hat.  and i love it.

[caption id="attachment_528" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="i'm not buying whatever he's selling."][/caption]

so that's it.  that's what i've been doing.  nothing exciting. 

i realize that i could blog more - since i'm not hammered all the time. 

i apologize if this bored anyone.  i'd like to think it didn't. 

but leave some comments if it did.

i really like 'lil wayne, although i rarely listen to him or even have any of his music but this line always resonates with me.

'cuz if you lookin' for me you can find me on the block disobeyin' the law

#realtalk