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Modern_Drunkard

There is so much booming great health news about Moderate Drinking, but I've never been quite able to get my arms around that elusive fucker If truest beauty is merely a tightly bound collection of forgivable flaws, then this particular brand of whiskey is total shit. I'm of the opinion that 90% of music wouldn't exist without alcohol. And it would all be religious hymns & marching songs. This Denver Thursday is drinking like a Vegas Friday. No shit. In other news, Ice Cold, Fire Hot. The best way to get something done is to work in the looming shadow of a more proximate deadline of some other project. I avoid drink tastings. Whatever "palette" might be gained is offset by the horror of watching smug swine spitting-up perfectly good booze. This hangover is completely stock. Raw, unvarnished. I applied no preventives, no prehydration tricks. It is nauseatingly pure. The heat has gone out at the office, which proves my earlier decision to start drinking rum was some kind of genius premonition. I bet if I start drinking Tiki drinks--right now--the snow will be encouraged to leave the ground & return to the Pacific where it belongs. Finally, a candidate I can really get behind: A hangover like a leaky ice tray. I have to keep refilling the fucker until it solidifies. Those who lay that "None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free" quote on you are usually assholes. This hangover feels overly elaborate. It feels like a full-scale model an anti-booze lecturer would wheel into high school classrooms. Am at the "We want the finest wines" scene in Whithnail and I. Certainly one of the finest scenes in drunken cinematic history. It's annoying when friends solemnly and at great length apologize for minor drunken offenses. You were a gale, sir, not a Katrina. Finally viewed the Rum Diary. It did not undersell a fine novel. Nor did it rise above it. @ColetrainGOF Every Saturday at the Lions Lair, starting at 4pm.



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