Craddle the Whiskey: A Fun New Game!

It’s hump day y’all, so you’d better be humping. And if you’re not humping, you’d better be thinking about humping and cradling a bottle of whiskey between your tits to make yourself feel better for having an inadequate sex life.  

I’m not going to apologize to you guys (I’m an asshole, remember, assholes don’t say sorry), but I am going to give you a heads up that my life is fucking crazeballs right now so my ‘free time’ has been stunted. This means that I’m finding less time to be funny, and more time to be insane. (On an unrelated note, does anyone have any suggestions on how to go about burning down a house without it being retraced to me? Just kidding! (Probably. LOLZ*))

*For those of you new here, I promise I don’t use LOLZ on a regular basis. Maybe.

My roommate and I have (I think) finally narrowed down an apartment to move into. This means that I’m in the throes of moving and all of the glory that comes along with it. (Listen, I know you don’t want to hear about it. Listening to someone talk about moving all the motherfucking time is extremely annoying.  In fact, I’m pretty sure that if you were in my general vicinity for even 2 hours you’d probably try to wrap my telephone chord around my neck and gag me with a stapler. Okay, fine, maybe that’s my fantasy. Whatever. You get what I'm trying to say.)

Stapler gags and office sex jokes aside, I should probably just admit to you that there is no point to this post and you’ve wasted however many minutes it has taken you to get to this point. (2 minutes? … maybe 10 minutes if you’re fucking slow and/or have been cradling aforementioned tit whiskey. I'm hoping for the latter.)

If you need me, I’ll be on the floor in my rubber gloves.