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.  

It's 4am, I'm Probably Drunk on Your Porch.

Breakups are fucking stupid.

Sure, it’s nice to have an excuse to be a snotty, puffy-faced, teary disaster for awhile, but overall, I’d say the whole breakup process is pretty fucking douchey.  I’m not going to say that I wanted to use my guitar strings to slit open my wrists while wheezing out the painful, melodic tunes of Melissa Etheridge… but something a little less bloody, butequally as humiliating has most definitely crossed my mind.

For the purpose of this entry, I decided to browse the internet for helpful ‘tips’ on how to get over the person you broke up with. This is going to come as a pretty big shock, but everything I found was fucking stupid.

In my search, I stumbled on this helpful picture:

This image was paired with the motivational message “Let go of your negative emotions!” 

Ummmmm…..

This guy isn’t letting go of anything. He’s giving a thumbs up while holding a shirt that says “Negative Emotions.” If you ask me, it looks more like this giant douchecanoe is excited by his recent acquisition of a shitty t-shirt promoting an even shittier emo band. 

Also: The 90s are over, dudebro. Smiley face t-shirts are out.

...Oh, and this guy is most definitely about to kill those birds. 

Dealing with a break up? Go kill some motherfucking birds!

One particularly helpful article suggested that I call all of my friends and force them to hang out with me. They encouraged calling everyone, including the people I haven’t spoken to in ages. Apparently, if you’re a disgusting, emotional disaster, everyone has to understand because you’re in a ‘time of need’. 

They also suggested I look at all of my old photos to make myself cry like a motherfucking suicidal banshee. 

The article assured me that my friends will still love me, though. I mean, who doesn’t love an anxious, wheezing bag of hysteria showing up at their door at 4 am?  

 

I think I might test out their theory.

WHADDUP former elementary school friends. Shit’s about to get real.

*

As a side note, midway through this article, a helpful advertisement let me know that there are nine magic words that would make my man addicted to me.  (That’s the dream, right?) 

 

While I didn’t actually click on the link, I’m going to guess what those 9 words are:

1-     Anal

2-     Threesome

3-     Boob-job

4-     Blowjob

5-     Anal

6-     Letmemakeyouasandwich

7-     Brazilian

8-     Anal

9-     Idon’twantkids

Listen. I realize that list is hardly fair to men and I’m being rudely presumptuous in thinking this magical list of keywords will keep a man addicted to his woman, but bitch, please. Y’all know you’d be excited if your woman said she’d make you a sammie while you screw her in the pooper.

How sexy was that sentence?

Yep.

Moving along.

I also stumbled on this picture, displaying the utter sadness that one feels when their heart is shattered into a million pieces. 

 

You guys.

This bitch is sad.

She’s so sad she’s using an umbrella when it’s sunny out.

Her sadness is so powerful she can’t even handle the sun.  Except on the bottom half of her face… that part of her face is not so sad.

Oh, and the best thing about this article? It was linked to an even more helpful article called ‘How to Deal with a Broken Rib.”

I’m going to leave the domestic abuse jokes aside.

For now. 

*

It's most definitely time for a drink. Or 12.