I played disc golf for the first time today. I shot something like 112 over par. I think part of the reason I did so poorly is that I don't smoke pot...and everyone else I was with was high.
Maybe I should get high before doing things.
The last time I got stoned, I got laid.
The last time I got laid, I was drunk....
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Maybe I should get high before doing things.
The last time I got stoned, I got laid.
The last time I got laid, I was drunk....
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Thursday night I walked to the bar. Rather than sit there by myself, I called my ex-girlfriend and invited her to have a beer. I haven't seen her in five months. We had a nice time, talked about work, and listened to some jazz. She drove me to another bar where I met some friends, and she went home. End of story.
She calls me...
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She calls me...
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A couple of days ago, I decided to stop drinking so much during the week. (To stop drinking altogether is utter nonsense...)
I think I just fell off the wagon.
Let's have a shot.
I think I just fell off the wagon.
Let's have a shot.
bleagh. Fuckemup. I have a story to tell. Later.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
drinkwhisky:
A shit story:
This drunken cokehead at the bar tells a story...
No, it's not me...
He's at this mall that has four floors. Escalators go up, while stairs are the only way to go down. He's at a tobbacco shop on the third floor. The smell of aging cigars and pipe tobbacco fill the air. He's got gas...probably from drinking. So in the already heady atmosphere, he feels no remorse for letting one slip...he farts. Actually, he sharts. So there he is, with that delightfully squishy feeling in his pants, unsure of where the restroom is. He walks down three flights of stairs, the contents of his underwear sloshing around; he assumes that there is a bathroom on the ground floor. He's wrong. It's on the fourth floor. He rides the escalator to the top and goes into the restroom and enters a stall. He does whatever it is that's necessary to clean up, pulls up his pants for a moment, and leaves the stall with his shitty underwear. Next to the sinks are an unsuspecting man and his boy. The drunk throws his underwear into a trash can near them and returns to the stall to finish whatever it is he must finish.
The boy asks his father, "What is that man doing?"
"Son, he crapped his pants."
This drunken cokehead at the bar tells a story...
No, it's not me...
He's at this mall that has four floors. Escalators go up, while stairs are the only way to go down. He's at a tobbacco shop on the third floor. The smell of aging cigars and pipe tobbacco fill the air. He's got gas...probably from drinking. So in the already heady atmosphere, he feels no remorse for letting one slip...he farts. Actually, he sharts. So there he is, with that delightfully squishy feeling in his pants, unsure of where the restroom is. He walks down three flights of stairs, the contents of his underwear sloshing around; he assumes that there is a bathroom on the ground floor. He's wrong. It's on the fourth floor. He rides the escalator to the top and goes into the restroom and enters a stall. He does whatever it is that's necessary to clean up, pulls up his pants for a moment, and leaves the stall with his shitty underwear. Next to the sinks are an unsuspecting man and his boy. The drunk throws his underwear into a trash can near them and returns to the stall to finish whatever it is he must finish.
The boy asks his father, "What is that man doing?"
"Son, he crapped his pants."
whitewidow:
Welcome to SG Military!!
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whitewidow:
Welcome to SG