Submitted for the approval of the midnight society…

by crunt
  • Published:October 31st, 2008
  • Comments:2 Comments
  • Category:Loony Bin
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Thanks for visiting The Drunk Blog! You are more than welcome to sign up and post some drunken ranting or subscribe to our RSS feed! Regardless, it's time to get your drink on.

I am delighted with the prospect of a site specifically for drunk blogging. And here I’ve been drunk blogging on sites geared toward the actual recording of events, which I now see is pure folly.

Though unfortunately, I’m so inebriated it took me a number of minutes to figure out how to post.

Today I realized that one of the guys from Rilo Kiley was also on ‘Salute Your Shorts’, back in the day. This sent me through an overwhelming spiral of TV nostalgia. I learned all the greats of classical music, the signs of a serial rapist, and rudimentary spanish, all from watching ‘Looney Tunes’. ‘Clarrissa Explains it All’ and ‘Blossom’ inspired my individual fashion sense, whilst spelling out basic life lessons in a kooky, colorful way. The concepts of dating were learned from ‘Hey Dude’. I discovered that it’s generally a bad idea to spike the punch by watching ‘Doug’. And ‘My Little Pony’…well…was just magical.

Snick was a great, great thing. It was considered so edgy at the time, but when I look back, there is no actual edge in kids throwing pies at each other. Maybe back then parents were more concerned about children not wasting their food. Perhaps.

I cannot stand the children’s programming of today. I would lynch Dora the Explorer. I have no patience for the pauses in ‘interactive’ television. I always end up screaming the obvious at the bilingual bitch. I’m impatient with the repetitiveness in ‘The Backyardigans’, as well. I do enjoy the occasional ‘Yo Gabba Gabba’, however, as I am not an epileptic.

When I was a little girl, I used to sometimes pretend to be an epileptic at slumber parties. I can actually remember flopping around on the floor a few times. I have no idea why I did this, but I find it incredibly entertaining now…as I’m sure I did back then. Maybe that’s the explanation for why I maintained none of my childhood friends.

Remember, kids: lies are only friends you haven’t met yet.

Machiovich owned a boat

by happyian

Machiovich owned a boat, for the sailing and such. He walked around in his town, and waved at most, and eat everything he saw. Hey look at that, Machiovich is eating a corndog!

Dear Corndog,

I am about to eat you. I have coated you in mustard, that should have been your first warning. Hey, I’m covered in mustard… Things that are about to get eaten are covered in mustard. That is what you should have been thinking, when I covered you in mustard. Once I bit into you, you could know for certain, you are being eaten, but it was possible for you to know ahead of time too. Heck, you should have known you were gunna get eaten when you were born a corndog. Anyways, you’re crazy for not thinking you were gunna get eaten. You’re crazy. You are crazy!

-Dr. Machiovich

Dr. Machiovich (Machiovich being his first and last name) folded the envelope and left it on a random door step for a random person. How random! He would come back later and break into that house and murder that person and process their body into hotdogs, and wrap corn bread around them and then coat that cornbread in mustard and then eat it. but he would wait until they threw the letter out first. Those bastards, not recycling and what not.

Machiovich Machiovich walked down the block to the grocery store, and walked in the front door. The greeter greeted him and he greeted in return. Can you greet in return?

Brandon Herigart opened up his door, and on his front porch was a letter. It was was sloppily written, almost illegible actually. What it appeared to say was:

Deer Corndog

A quiet night at the bar.

by mdavfc

Is this too much to ask? The state I drink in has a bar law, your not 21 at 8pm get the fuck out. I like to drink, I don’t mind kids,  but if you give me guff at 9 pm ’cause my language is brash FUCK YOU. I have 4 year old beautiful daughter, she’s in bed, asleep. If you have your chud of a child  at the bar/diner that late they deserve to hear every f-bomb (fuck), C-slap (cunt) that spews forth from my foul mouth. I write this as a concerned parent and loyal servant to the intake of beer.

P.S. Why is it I get dirty looks when I get too loud watching hockey? Thats another rant.

CHEERS TO YOU FAITHFUL BOOZERS.

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