Shortest. Thread. Ever.
Oggar wrote:I've worked in a bar for years. I get free booze often. It's mostly about being at a bar free booze just happens. If the bartender knows you're a heavy drinker and likes you free booze abounds! Mispours, the bartender decides to experiment making new drinks, some one bought a round of shots and there's some left over, shift-change, somebody said to buy you one, bartender/waitress wants to do a shot with some one, bar tricks, breaking up a fight, heading off trouble, getting rid of an annoying guy, being patient while they were busy. I've gotten free booze for all those reasons and more. Really it's just about going to the bar and not being an ass.
IntoxiChrist wrote:AND SO I SAYS SO HIM I SAYS
THAT'S NOT A SCHWARTZCHILD RADIUS
THAT'S MY WIFE
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
...Stephen Hawking is getting idvorced, I read toiday.
Can you imagine a fucking martial spat? It'd be like arguing with a Speak N spell.
Barca wrote:"An Ode to Zima
Fresh and youthful, like adolescent sex. Not too intense, finished quickly.
Everytime I sip at your malformed nipple I revel in your rich and glorious history, hearkening back to the beginnings of time. Drunken time traveling to the strains of Ice, Ice Baby, Zima, I want to sex YOU up. Your gentle and ever so slightly alcoholic embraces baffles and taunts me like a flirtatious Sunday Jumble, addles my brains and taxes my faculties like a drunken Wheel of Fortune puzzle.
Zima seduces me with the unfettered alcoholic powers of a twelve-year old succubus. Succumb, and, helplessly, I could awake seconds later with a hickey or an ill-intentioned friendship bracelet. Truly give in to its weak embrace and my motor skills may slightly deteriorate, rendering advanced levels of Ms. Pac Man infinitesimally more difficult. Stay back, you partially toothed viper.
Oh, Zima, without you, how will I ever become a man?"
ShotTime wrote:Drunken injuries the next day are like stamps on the blackout passport, chronicling all the fascinating places you've been.
stevedoom1313 wrote:This is Sexytime poetry.F. Sott Blitzedgerald wrote:This martini is perfect. It is gin. It is cold as Antartica, it is dry as the Sahara, it is dirty as a prhobitionists heart. Sweet perfume of juniper. I wear it swell.
Rooster wrote:Booze makes me pretty, and when I drink it, it makes the whole damn world pretty, too.
Rooster wrote:I've wasted the past ten minutes catching up from last night, on the goings-on of the board. Ten minutes of my life I'll never get back, because it didn't add a bit to my drinking experience, didn't educate me in any way or inspire me to new heights of getting bombed. I won't say what it did inspire me to do, except sit down and type something that may just inspire you instead.
I'm going to have a beer, in fact, I'm going to have a Sam Adams Holiday Porter and not just any beer. I'm going to drink it because I'm thirsty, and because I enjoy the taste of beer. I'm going to drink it because it's Sunday and I don't believe in some grumpy old man who lives in the clouds and watches everyone masturbate; but I do believe in taking a day of rest and reflecting on my previous week.
I'm going to have a beer, because so few of you actually drink or if you do, you surely don't enjoy it. It's 11am on Sunday morning and the place I came to escape the soap opera of life and share my experiences and share in the experiences of others, suckling the nectar of an honest life instead of being suckled by a lifetime too short and too full of guilt to take seriously.
I'm going to drink a beer, and when I do, I'm not going to care a single iota about how I'm perceived in that beer-drinking, and I'm not going to care who is new and who is crude and who is a prude and who is booed; instead focusing on who is stewed and unscrewed, lewd and emotionally nude, the next Drunkard to gather their stones up, step up to the bar and get Sweet Lou'd.
I'm going to drink a beer, as much for your disconnected souls as my own, and I'm going to stop typing and drink that beer, right.... now.
Rooster wrote:Whiskey Biscuit wrote:Dr. Thompson passed away and no one has stepped forward to grab his baton. Well I'll tell you cocksuckers, this scrawny bastard won't hesitate. I'm not going to waver and put up some namby-pamby excuses for drinking weakly. No, despite the fact that I bust dudes for narco bullshit...
WTF? You're a narcotics cop and are claiming some kindred spirit with Hunter S. Thompson? What a dumbass hypocrite.
I'll fuck you so hard your ass won't know up from down. Tell me again what a hypocrite I am. You're a fool. You're a hand-puppet. You don't know anything about drugs, let along being a narc. Go ahead, tell me what a fool I am. I've touched God and he's a golden fleece in a neon sky. He's two bourbon shots when you're already two tokes over the line. Ask me about being God? Ask me about my dedication the cause? I'm the supercharged rocket, boosting off into the ether. A space monkey, flitting this way and that, trying to make heads of tails before I blast off in your rocket with the two solid-state D-size engines. I'm the backside of the dime you flip when you ask the hooker how much it'll be for just a handjob.
I don't answer to you. I answer to all of humanity and until you bring the pain, you'll remain what you are. An anonymous chump. Bring the booze, bring the pain, bring the pleasure. Don't talk shit son, no! Sit down, enjoy, share the nectar. You won't be able to hang because you're not a hanger. No no, you're your own man. You're an individual. You'll fall and no one will be there to take you the promised land. You'll never make it to Zion son, you'll be stuck in the ether, the unknown. the unKNOWING.
bluebottle wrote:steved2112 wrote:hi bluebottle
I'm glad the cop was kind.
he had a mustache and glasses, and red hair. he wasn't wearing the little hat. i asked for a ride home, and he said "the only ride i'll give you is to the police station, and we don't want that." i said no, we don't want that, cause we were in it together. i like it when cops are all inclusive. makes me feel more secure.
Drinking, the magic and majesty of it. From high class joints to dingy dives or back alleys. There can and should be a sense of commraderie amoungst those who see a bottle of booze as more than a bottle of booze. It's not a status symbol either, it's a bottle of rocket fuel, a gateway to adventure or paradise. It's the mortar that holds a group of friends together or the lubrication that keeps society from breaking down. It's sustanance and solace. And maybe just maybe the one thing that will save mankind from itself. Sometimes it's about getting drunk, sometimes it's about more than that.
Mayhem wrote:You cannot make a Brutal Hammer without Vodka, so it is necessary. That is all.
BeerMakesMeSmart wrote:My brother had called me a few times ove the past couple of days and I ignored his calls. I figured that he was calling me about a book I'm supposed to send him and I haven't done it yet. Well, I answered his call tonight and the news was not good. A great man has passed away. Bro. Thomas P. O'Dwyer was a friend to my family for nearly 50 years. My father met him through Friends of the Christian Brothers and he taught me and both my brothers in high school. He was one of the nicest, smartest caring and classiest people to ever set foot on this earth. He died at the fine age of 98. He was still making the rounds to the locals up until a few weeks ago for his "Powers. Neat. Like God intended it." R.I.P Brother O'D. Tonight's bottle is dedicated to you.Bro. Thomas P. O'Dwyer C.F.C., a longtime resident of New Rochelle, died on January 13, 2007. He was 98. Bro. O'Dwyer was born on August 21, 1908 in Thuries, Co. Tipperary, Ireland to the late John and Johanne (Ryan) O'Dwyer. He attended Elementary and High School in Ireland and then came to the United States and attended Fordham University where he received his Masters in History. Prior to coming to New Rochelle, he taught at St. John's in Newfoundland, Canada and Power Memorial Academy in NYC. He came to New Rochelle 53 years ago, where he taught at Blessed Sacrament High School and later Blessed Sacrament High School-St. Gabriel High School until a year ago. In addition to his parents, Bro. O'Dwyer was predeceased by a brother Michael and a sister Nora. Visiting hours will be Tuesday 7 to 9 PM and Wednesday 2 to 4 and 7 to 9 PM at Lloyd Maxcy & Sons Beauchamp Chapel Inc., 16 Shea Place, New Rochelle, NY. A Funeral Mass is scheduled for Thursday 9:30 AM at Blessed Sacrament Church. Interment will follow at St. Mary's Cemetery, West Park, NY.
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