10 Ways You Know You’re An Alcoholic.

1.  You can only tell what time it is by how many drinks you’ve had… Oh, look at that, it’s 3 whiskeys past a vodka.

2. You have no friends.

3. The friends you do have are over 60, unemployed and hate everything, including you.

4. You wake up in bed at 3am, wet yourself, then go back to sleep.

5. You don’t so much go to bed as you do fall into the bed, miss, and smash your face in the floor. You then make no effort to correct this error.

6. Being drenched from head to toe in your own vomit and urine is no longer the ‘faux pas’ it used to be.

7. Your daughter asks you,

“where do unicorns live?” To which you respond,

“You’re why daddy drinks…”

8. Your idea of a romantic night out with your partner is starting a fight with the waitress in your local McDonald’s because she wont let you light a candle on your anniversary (which was actually 3 weeks ago) due to it being a fire hazard and also your drunkenness.

9. Drenching your friends from head to toe in your own vomit and urine is no longer the ‘faux pas’ it used to be.

10. You pass out before reading this far.

My Blind Date

Hey guys, so yesterday was a fun day for me, a friend set me up on a blind date, usually I can’t be bothered with blind dates as the only women who go on blind dates are boring as fuck, dried up old prunes, who lead lives less interesting than that of my last bowel movement.

My fear of blind dates comes mostly from experience, last year a friend had set me up with a girl he knew, just out of interest I decided to go. Anyway, he gave me her number, I called her, we chatted, and eventually we decided to meet by City Hall. When I got there, I sat on a bench and proceeded to text my blind date, I wrote the words, “I’m here, sitting beside some fat chick, hope to see you soon,” needless to say the phone I just texted belonged to the fat chick… I’ll let you guess what happened next. Incase you can’t guess, here’s a clue: HULK ANGRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

However I owed this friend a favour so I went for him and I have to say, blind dates rock. You can stare at their tits all night long, pour salt on the table and tell them it’s braille and you can have a hell of a lot of fun directing them into the kitchen instead of the bathroom… I did that three times.

The third time all I heard from the kitchen were the words “Oh, for fuck sake! Not again!”

The night went pretty well despite my picking on her, I ended up back at hers, we spent the night together and I left in the morning…

I don’t think she’ll call me back though… Mostly because while she slept I moved her furniture around and put her phone in the kitchen sink…

I wonder how long it will take her to realise?

I was going to update this.

But I didn’t.

What apps do I have?

I don’t have “apps” I have fucking applications because I’m not a fucking cunt.

Stop fucking abbreviating everything in the name of sounding fucking cool and hip.

The only “app” your ipone needs is a sharp rusty pike that pins your skull to the curb any time you say “app” instead of application “because” you think it’s cool and hip to do so because iphone adverts told you so.

Also, how about an app to pull your god damned trousers up, I’m sick of seeing you faggoty assed nancy boys prancing around with your asses showing, your ass is not sexy, it is a lump of shit, go to the gym and get some proper trousers that fit.

Also, you need an app that teaches you some God damned manners, how about an app that turns your phone off when you’re around other people, oh wait, you need to not have an iphone to have that because it’s called fucking civility and only people who aren’t utter cunts have it.

My phone is a 4 year old, pay as you go, brick which can only accept incoming calls. It has two games, snake, and snake two, and it doesn’t have a colour screen and it’s battery lasts approx 12 hours. When somebody calls me it goes “ring, ring”, instead of “I KISSED A GIRL AND I LIKED IT! HOPE MY BOYFRIEND DON’T MIND IT!” over and over again.

Why own this instead of an iphone? Because my phone doesn’t turn me into a raging trend hopping metrosexual faggot. Instead of changing me, my phone reflects who I am, and that is a heterosexual man’s man.

Fuck your technology and your faggotry, they are one and the same.

Published in: on 01/10/2009 at 11:53 am  Comments (1)  
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I fucked an amputee…

Last weekend was wilder than a jaguar on crack with its cock into a toaster.
A friend of mine, James, was holding a little B.B.Q. house-warming type shin-dig and invited me along (I very much think he regrets that decision now). I’m not entirely sure why he invited me because we don’t know each other that well, and anybody who does know me, knows it’s better not to invite me to these occasions, regardless he invited me.

I was meant to be there at around 5pm. I showed up at 11.30 in police custody.

I was meant to bring a house warming gift. I threw up in his shoes and punched his friend.

I was meant to help him get into some girl he likes. I fucked her to prove I could then fucked her amputee sister to win £50.

Let me explain. You see I was planning on showing up and being civil as I so often do… However circumstance prevented it. I just so happens that an old ex-girlfriend was in town, so I decided to go meet her, I don’t really know why I did, but I guess I don’t really have to since my cock made that decision for me, as it does with most decision which relate to vaginas.

Anyway, I went out to meet her and all went well, and we’re meeting again next week. I wasn’t entirely drunk when she left and it was only 7.30 and I don’t arrive at parties at 7.30 as far as I’m concerned if a party ends before 4a.m. it’s not a fucking party, so I had a few drinks on my own…

Untill I met some Americans. Now, the Americans fucking love us Irish and it’s pretty much mandatory that we leach the fucking shit out of this one way relationship. And so, like a 13 year old Japanese school girl taking advantage of elderly perverts through the medium of used underpants and up-skirt videos I pounced. They bought me so much fucking drink I went fucking blind. Who would have known that watching Irish people drink is like a fucking Olympic sport to Americans? I was not fucking complaining.

I don’t quite remember how this next part happened, but the bar got shut down… I’m sure I and a rather rowdy crowd of Americans were responsible somehow but I really can’t remember how.

And so, we took to the streets and like freshly liberated Guantanamo inmates breathing fresh air for the first time we threw up, en mass, all over the street, and then all over a police car, then all inside the police car, and a more beautiful sight I haven’t seen since.

The police dropped the Americans off at their hotel. They were actually quite nice about the incident, although, I “should have known better” according to P.C. Jim Davies, or whatever the fuck his name was, who decided to drop me home, needless to say, I lied about where my home was, and told him the address of my friends house.

When we got there, the B.B.Q. had expanded and there were a few smokers standing outside the front door and you could see some people round the side drinking.

“Are you sure this is your house?” He asked, to which I replied,

“Why yes fine sir, I am most sure that this establishment is my home, you may drop me off here sir and I shall trouble neither yourself nor these streets any more with my jovial antics, and here is a tuppence tip for your fine services this eve!” Which translates roughly to “Course, thus is..my?….. house… I KNOW WHERE I LIBE!!!!” (I was still quite drunk, and a little drowsy.)

After a brief conversation at the door between James and the nice policeman I was allowed in on the condition that James wouldn’t let me out of his sight. This is no small task, but neither James nor the policeman though this would be an issue, as both of them thought I’d be passed out in an hour… How wrong they were…

When the policeman had left James escorted me through the hall and up the stairs as quickly as he could to prevent me being seen by his lovely presentable friends, to which I took great offence, I believe my exact words were,

“James! No! James! Look at me! James! FUCK YOU! What? What is it? Am I not fancy enough to be around your friends!? I can be fancy James! Want me to be fancy?! I’ll wear a fucking doily and drink tea and talk about the establishment and lick bums James! Is that what you want James!!!!”

It was at this point that James’ shoes were to become the victims of an oncoming barrage of Technicolor fluids which would make a great excursion from my stomach to my mouth and inevitably into James’ shoes.

On completing the arduous task of vomiting all over my friends household I decided I had become sober enough to join the party, so I cleaned up and went downstairs to chat, I was talking to the girl James wanted into, and for a good 15 minutes straight some long haired hippy mother fucker who dressed almost entirely in fucking hemp was staring at me, needless to say I initiated a confrontation, only to find out, after punching him, that he had a lazy eye, sounds cliche, but this is my life. I was nice enough, I apologised and helped him clean up his bloodied face and we’re good friends now. In so much that I didn’t do any of that he hates me.

Anyway, James’ supposed woman to be, Jennifer, was quite impressed by my awesome face breaking skills and we fucked in James’ bed, I felt that if I were to betray him I should at least do it with a degree of class.

This is where we get to the fun part of the story. After fucking she introduced me to her sister…

This was awkward for a number of reasons, the first being that I offered her a hand shake, regardless of the fact she had no arms or legs, the second being that 10 minutes later I did the same thing drunkenly thinking she was somebody else. We did not get off to a good start. Inevitably my male friends started joking about how little Nancy No Legs wouldn’t fuck me if I were the last man on the planet. Needless to say I took this as a challenge and a bet was made, all my male friends chipped in raising a total of £50 if I fucked her I got it, if I didn’t I would be left with neither pride nor dignity.

Truth be told after I got talking to her she was actually quite interesting and I kinda wish I’d talked to her sober and not fucked her for money, but alas, this is life. As it turned out, she had climbed various mountains and on one trip she ended up having to be rescued after getting lost or some shit like that and for some reason (I can’t remember what) that had to take her arms and legs off. Anyway I feigned sympathy and interest for a while and told her plenty of men would like her (she had no self-esteem, which I’m guessing should be fairly obvious considering the fact she’s no fucking arms or legs) and the conversation went a bit like this:

“I have no arms or legs lol”

“That’s awesome, does that make rolling down hills more or less fun?”

“MOAR LAWLAWLAWLAWLALWLWL!”

“Your sister’s a good lay”

“I’m ugly”

“You are…. LOL”

“That hurt :(”

“Sorry, you’re not really, want to fuck?”

“OK!”

Obviously the conversation was longer and more complex but I can’t be fucked going into the whole thing, and also, I don’t remember most of it.

Anyway, I don’t know if any of you have ever fucked a girl with no arms or legs but there are certain things about doing it that can be a little… strange.

We’ll work backwards, from the end of the sexual experience to the start.

When you’re finished you have the option of stealing her clothes and moving her wheelchair into the hallway… I thought for a good 5 minutes about this. On the one hand it’s hideously cruel, on the other, it’s horrendously funny and a once in a life time opportunity. I’ll let your imaginations decide which option I went for.

When you’re fucking, you feel so much bigger in proportion, it feels like fucking a 2/3 human size bag of potatoes with a face.

Undressing her kinda takes the spark out of the moment a little (well,  that’s assuming that the lack of arms and legs hadn’t done that already.) It feels like you’re 7 again and taking the clothes off of your sister’s Barbie dolls to see what’s under them, except at the end you don’t bite the head off and spit it out the window…

The worst part about the whole experience?

Before we did it she wanted me to take her to the bathroom… I won’t even go into what that was like…

Society Wins, Again.

I think it’s fair to say that if the entire cast of the Harry Potter movies, anybody who’s read a Harry Potter Book and that cunt J.K. Rowling were all to die the world would be a much better place.

So thank you to the knife happy hero who decided to take Robert Knox out of the gene pool.

Some cunt who shouldnt be allowed to breed, oh, and Robert Knox is in there somewhere too, although Ill be frank, I dont know or care to know which one he is, all I see is genetic waste all over the show.

Some cunt who shouldn't be allowed to breed, oh, and Robert Knox is in there somewhere too, although I'll be frank, I don't know or care to know which one he is, all I see is genetic waste all over the show.

Published in: on 23/02/2009 at 1:42 am  Leave a Comment  
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