By Definition, FUN!, Life, Uncategorized

Now You Know

I really hate Facebook games, but I have seen this one game going around, and I had no idea how to avoid it. And then it found me because I posted a comment and thought I was being funny… I was not funny, only trapped… so here goes, thanks, Mrs. Diming.

6 ransom facts that you never wanted to know about me.

1. I LOVE basketball. I love to watch it live or on TV (this includes high school teams, the WMBA, Your kids at a Brooklyn bball park, or people messing around on the street with a basketball (and Hoosiers, the best basketball movie ever). I know all of the rules, and am often tempted to steal a ball away from a kid in the streets and then yell at them for not protecting it. I saw a kid with a leather indoor basketball outside the bank the other day and almost lost my mind because he had no idea that it was for indoor use only. What Calamity!

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Throwin’ it back…

2. I am afraid of not being able to breathe (this includes choking, drowning, and suffocating). Please don’t ever put me in a headlock or put my head in a small space without being ready for the consequence of my wrath. I will kick and bite and scream until I am released… then I will never forgive you or trust you again.

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I also LOVE cats!

3. I am afraid of what’s under the water. I had a few incidents when I was younger where I was forced to boogie board at Seaside Heights and was totally wiped out and destroyed by my board and the ocean. Another time I was bit by a crab at Jamesport Beach. I need to see the bottom of any body of water if I am going to go in above my knees. I did go into the Long Island Sound this summer, and faced me fears by going in up to my neck and (gasp) under the water… then saw a school of minnows and was Audi 5000.

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To jump or not to jump…

4. I look terrible in hats. I look like a little boy who didn’t make the little league team. No matter what hat I wear, I look silly.

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Hats are not flattering…

5. I am a quiet conspiracy theorist. I don’t think that Elvis is dead, but the real Paul McCartney is. FOX News should be called FAUX News, and no one should ever believe everything (or anything) that they are told.

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mockumentary my ass…

6. I will always believe that my dad is the strongest person on this planet.

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My dad is awesome!

Well, there you have it. There are lots more things that I could share, but this is what my brain pulled together on short notice. What else would you like to know?

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Uncategorized

Sick Day

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If only I were this cute yesterday…

Leave it to me to get sick on the first 80 degree day in October. I have been sick all week, but yesterday I was too sick to even move, let alone go to work. I texted my work pal at 7am telling her how broken I was. I then drifted off to sleep until 8 when I called and let work know that it was official. I’m sick… like, legitimately.

Now, I should have known I was getting sick by all of the awful nightmares I have been having. I attributed them to the new mattress that Captain Clam surprised me with on Monday. I thought that maybe since I was sleeping well and not having to wake up every 3 hours to add air to the bed that my dreams were just catching up with an uninterrupted sleep cycle. I also attributed the very early 7:30 pm bed-times to the new mattress. Basically I have lived in bed since we got it. I am either extremely excited to have the new mattress or I am really stinkin’ sick.

I took a sick day. I wanted to take 2, but unfortunately I am still in my 90 day trial period and I simply don’t get paid days off yet (I don’t even get paid holidays yet (whaaa)). As it were, I woke up from my third nightmare where I had a beard tattoo growing up my neck and onto my chin. It was red and blue. In my dream all I could think was “This must be a dream. Why would I do this?” Thankfully, it was and I woke up in horror.

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John Henry Fuseli’s “The Nightmare”. I named that little demon on top “influenza”. How poetic.

One of my dreams was a very vivid kidnap dream with crazy amounts of violence.  The dream was incredibly gory. However, I didn’t wake up scared or full of adrenaline, but I was really kind of thinking “What the Fuck” when a high school friend tried to manually tie my tubes with a kitchen knife.

Somewhere along the way there was a dream about a monster hunting retreat you could sign up for. The hunting grounds were on an old estate that was littered with old vehicles full of supplies and weapons. You were allowed to bring your hunting dogs with you, but they were liable to turn on you at any given point in the “game”.  After the first week, all the participants who were left standing were invited to a “ball” where they were given a night off from the monsters. The monsters ranged from Dinosaurs to zombies. Sounds like an awesome video game about nothing to me (I could make MILLIONS!).

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I googled “zombie monster” and this is what I got.

There are a few more fever dreams (like the one with all the road kill bears), but those are the strangest. After my encounter with them, I was certainly not ready to face a day that needed to be started at 6am. When I finally rolled out of bed at 10:30 (I don’t even sleep that late on weekends! Gosh I am getting old), I had a small spark of ambition since I figured it was a “day off”. Oh my, how wrong I was! I am realizing that most of the sick days I used at my previous job were mostly “mental health” days, and that my current sick day was just that… a sick day.

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That’s what a sick clam looks like.

I was completely unable to function at all yesterday. I was inspired to write this blog post and finish a few others that I have neglected for far too long (remember 6 Word Stories?) I even thought that a walk to the park would help me, maybe a little sunshine would dry out my face, or maybe I could sweep and mop and do laundry and toilet train the kitties on this glorious day filled with sneezing and coughing and all kinds of other things you need toilet paper for. And there’s the kicker. We didn’t have any toilet paper.

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An excellent pun.

But at least we had internet.

I spent most of the day on Netflix, Facebook and watching cat videos (HERE is a link the the greatest thing in the world as of yesterday). I also spent a ridiculous amount of time on www.landandfarm.com looking for the perfect homestead in Maine for me and My Captain. I did find a few doozies and gladly shared them with Le Clam when he got home from work last night. What we have discovered about Maine is that no one has ever cracked open an Architectural Digest and that you can never have enough pine in your life. Wall paper is a different story.

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I LOVE PINE!

Despite my inability to move but admiration for the thought of being motivated, I was able to do the dishes, tidy up the apartment, put some laundry away (which consisted of me putting most of it back into the laundry bin or directly into the garbage), make the deliciously comfortable NEW and exciting bed ( yes, I am counting that, even though I laid down most of the day, but ON TOP of the covers), shower (it was more like a bath with the shower on), and make myself something to eat (and by “make myself something to eat” I mean I made Ramen Noodles (strangely, Mr T. Was climbing into the bowl trying to get at them. She’s such a frat girl!)).

The moral of my story is that sick days when you are truly sick (like pieces of your lungs are coming out of your mouth) are meant to be spent in bed being cuddled by furry animals watching bad tv and eating soup. At a certain point it hurts to even think about doing anything else (like bathing). It’s okay to be sick and to take a day to heal. I only wish I had taken a second day to finish the beginning of recovery before heading all snot nosed back to the office. And it’s okay to be sick of soup, since now that is all you are allowed to eat (according to every mom’s advice). It’s only for a week or so!

 

Sorry if this post totally sucked. I am still so sick and can’t even see straight, but I love  you for making it this far through the bungling ramble of my words. My next post will be awesome. I promise (all you Wizard of Oz Fans out there).

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Adventure, Bucket List, Employment, Photo Blog, Today was Awesome, Unemployment

Today was Awesome

Just a quick little recap of this amazing day I am having.

I got up, starving. I rummaged through the fridge only to get stuck eating toast…. again. I did all my crappy chores, like check facebook one million times and wash my toast plate and clean the litter box (ew). I showered and got dressed and went out to take about 100 photos, then came home to edit them and start the blog that I have been trying to get going for ages… As I fill out the ABOUT page (which you can find HERE) I received a call from the people I have been sending snail mail thank you’s to and got a job offer that is actually relevant to all of my work experience. Then I cried (but just a little).

I like to think you started reading this post and were like “Oh here she goes again wha wha wha.” Well, Ha! Sometimes I am not sarcastic (but I usually am, so I forgive you).

So, now I am gainfully employed and an official Photo Blogger with all kinds of motivation pouring out of my gills. Plus I am seeing my amazing family this weekend and may even stick my toes into the ocean for the first time in about 4 years. AND it’s Polish Town Fair Weekend (google it if you have no idea what that is)! Plus, Captain Clam is on his way home from his gainful employment and I am going to make him make me dinner.

The only down side is now that I have the passion for my new project, I will have little time to pursue it. OF COURSE that would happen! Even when I win, I lose! I guess a blog ain’t gonna pay my bills, so functioning humans of society, I will be joining you on Tuesday.

Thank you, my dear readers, for your support and your ability to read. I hope that this is the light at the end of the tunnel and it only gets brighter until I’m dead. I love you all.

Oh, and check out my new Photo Blog Portraits of Brooklyn.

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Today I “shot” Sunglasses

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Adventure, farts

I Like Farts

It’s true. We all love farts. And if you don’t like farts, then you are a fucking liar.

A good friend recently Facebook messaged me, asking if I had ever farted so smelly that it was like something had died inside of my bowels. Of course we have all been there. I answered back with, “Yes. It will be so bad that it actually is impressive.” Then about 10 minutes later messaged her to let her know how proud of myself I was for just doing what she had mentioned.

I am shameless (most of the time). I can talk about anything, and definitely don’t mind talking about poo or pee or other bodily functions. I’m okay with all of that to the point that my friends know they can talk about it (they even call me out on it when I don’t realize I am talking about it). Of course I keep my own bodily functions inside (pun), and always give a good bathroom freshening when I am done using (or abusing) it.

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And my Best Friend sent me this today, Aug 5, 2013. Just goes to show this blog is straight up legit… and so are my friends.

Bathroom humor has been around for ages. I’d like to think that bodily function jokes were one of the original “things” to ever laugh about. I mean, every living creature does it. Hell, dogs get to do it in public. Why is it okay for a dog to pee in public, but humans can’t find relief in a dark alley in an emergency situation? Totally not fair.

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Another beauty sent to me this past week. Ahhh My friends know me so well!

Whenever I go to a concert I visit is the toilet immediately. I grab extra toilet paper to ensure a semi-hygenic visit at the end of the show. Whether or not I use the portable bathrooms or the cleaner environment of the woods or parking lot, I am wiping with a clean piece of tissue. If you are “Shit out of Luck”, you can always take a piece of paper, crumple the hell out of it to make it soft, and use that for wiping.

You might be wondering why I am talking about all this nasty stuff (that’s totally natural, by the way). Well, Captain Clam and I just purchased a ridiculous amount of sushi and I threw it all up. By “all of it,” I mean, ALL of it. A total waste on my part, but maybe it was bad? The Clam feels great, but he’s a clam and used to seafood. Clams will eat anything! So, we really have no idea.

Anyway, back to poop.

What do you do when you can’t poop? Captain Clam believes in coffee and cigarettes, but gives me prunes, which I love, but I have grown an immunity to them. It’s all rather tragic. My secret is to relax the muscles and jog in place a little bit. That somehow does the trick 99% of the time.The other 1% I just cry and bloat and eat a bunch of fruit.

I recently purchased a huge box of Epsom Salts, because I love to take baths and ran out of my fancy Israeli bath salts (not the hallucinogenic kind that turn you into a flesh eating zombie). I was reading the box for all of the amazing things you can use Epsom Salts for, and apparently you can make an elixir for constipation. How wonderful!

On a  side note, I recently cut the shit out of my finger whilst “fixing” then fan. I took an Epsom Salts bath a few days later, and within 24 hours the cut on my finger was significantly healed. I was balls-out completely amazed, so I took another bath with comparable results. This mineral bath is the shit! Yay!

Back to fun, gross stuff.

Did you know that asparagus is really good for your urinary tract? It actually makes your pee smell, but that means it’s working! Beets are good for your liver and will actually turn your pee red! In most cases, I’d be freaked, but it’s normal to experience multi colored urine while under the influence of specific vegetables. Fruits also help with certain male functions… All I’m gonna say is, “Gentlemen, eat pineapples.”

There are lots of gross things. Like, cleaning your feet and toes. I could sit here for hours and pick the cuticles from my toenails since I am too broke to get a pedicure (well, not with the Clam working full time recently, the first thing I am going to do is get my feet did!). There are things that we women do to our bodies that we can’t even talk about (well, I can!).

Seriously, when is the last time you cleaned your belly button?

And when was the last time you talked about your body with a good friend? You’d be surprised at how much fun it could be, or what you can discover about the human apparatus. Sometimes you can mention one little thing, and BOOM, you have discovered that you are actually sick and maybe on the road to some sort of disease (goodness gracious, I hope not!). I know talking about poop and other stuff might make it hard to be the self righteous and “Proper” people who belong to humanity, but just get over it. We all fart. We all shit.  We all pee and we certainly all get sick. My grandmother died of breast cancer because it used to be “taboo” to talk about such things. I mourn her everyday. What a loss to the world! And what a ridiculous life for my Grandma Sophie to live! You should NEVER be ashamed of yourself, especially in sickness.

And sometimes, we’ll shit all over ourselves. If you have never shit your pants, then you are not even human. We have all done it and surely remember it. Even in a thong. Yup, I went there.

There is no shame in being human.

Dear friends. I love you, and you know this. Take care of yourselves and mind your poo. Talk about it. Pay attention. Most people only notice their poo when it’s not moving. Well, get some Epson Salts and get your shit together (um, literally). And for goodness sake, clean your belly button and behind your ears. Seriously, when is the last time you even thought to do so? Do it for me and you and Captain Clam.

PS. Happy Birthday Linda.

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Drink, Social Media

I was Drunk when I Wrote This

*Disclaimer: I am not currently drunk while writing this post. I am sitting on the floor drinking Keystone Light Beer (Always Smooth, apparently), which is merely beer flavored water. I may eventually peel myself up from the floor and have another, but this is a well thought out, sober induced, half researched blog post that I hope will be my best yet. So, please enjoy responsibly and take heed, fellow drinkers!

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CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!

Drinking and socializing have gone hand and hand since, well, forever… which means that drinking, socializing, and very poor decisions have also gone hand in hand in hand for the same period of time. What a messy three-way!

Overindulgence is sometimes unavoidable, like if it’s a baby’s first birthday party or your friends wedding in Vineland (Bumble-Fuck), New Jersey. You can’t always be sure WHAT is going to happen, especially if you and your friends are absolutely out of your minds to begin with.

There are many different types of “drunk” that exist. Please read below for my full synopsis, as I trust you will. Please note that I left out that person who always lets you know that they are drunk (Oh My God, I am SOOOOOO drunk right now!). It’s annoying. We all do it from time to time, so just beware.

Sad Drunk – Now, sad drunks aren’t always sad. They can be people who just have adverse reactions to red wine and think that John Denver’s “Back Home Again” is just so damn moving. It really is (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZJUnnnXg_oY ), but I’m not crying about it (not yet, anyway!)! Get a grip! Stop listening to that sappy country folk music for the remainder of your wine binge, and listen to something you can dance to. Dancing is way more fun than crying and releases the same chemicals. DUH!

Then there is the sad drunk who is completely inconsolable. Their loved one left them or perhaps a family member passed away. They need to be out of their apartments so their sorrows don’t suffocate them, but they are totally killing the buzz. So… you drink a gallon of wine with them and join in the sympathy party (Gosh, you are such a good friend). Lesson learned: Sad people should not drink wine, unless everyone is ready to be supportive and you are in a living room with a good girl movie and pounds of food.

Angry Drunk – This isn’t always that tough guy trying to prove he’s got muscles and mega testosterone. This is sometimes that sassy bitch who just needs to fight a lawn chair at a Bennigan’s because she’s just plain angry. Maybe she was accused of trying to leave the bar without paying, even though she was just going out to smoke and find her pal who was smoking and making friends outside. I mean really, not all angry people drinking are trying to be angry drunk. It’s a strange balance, but when you are off kilter even just a little, madness will make haste.

Cocky Drunk – This is that guy who knows everything and has so many jokes that are offensive and annoying and the only way to actually like him is to be equally as drunk and cocky yourself. These conversations will last for hours and offend everyone else in the area… mostly because those people are tight ass pricks. Am I right?

Sexy Drunk – This is when you are so drunk you have no idea what is going on. This is not sexy at all, but YOU think that YOU”RE so sexy. This can be applied to both sexes, but I think women are more prone to this typecast since they spend so much time getting ready and are generally prettier than men. Men are just desperate. Either way: GROSS!

Happy Drunk  – This is the best type of drunk (if that phrase even exists or is ever appropriate). I like to think this kind of drunk isn’t even “drunk”… maybe more of a tipsy spirit who is just ready to let loose, tell mad jokes and dance a bit, laughing and carrying the crowd’s energy on their shoulders. They never have too many drinks and are the one’s holding back someone’s hair in the bathroom, fetching water, and comforting the sad drunks (see above). They are loved by everyone, even if they are fat or ugly, and leave an excellent rep in their wake (unless you are an angry drunk, then you hate them because YOU HATE EVERYTHING!!!!).

TMI Drunk – This is the drunk who is not funny, not boring, but just is. They want to tell you everything about everything and leech onto you like you wanted a leech as a pet. They are not liked, nor are they hated, They are just drunk and should go home and get an exciting hobby that isn’t dull to talk about at a bar. Maybe they need a cat or something.

Now that we have covered all the types of drunk that exist for the purpose of this blog post, there are a variety of social outlets that can be applied to the personalities of drunkenness. Most areas covered in this post will be digital, but it’s important to address personal interaction. We all hang out with other people, obviously, and that generally leads to going home intoxicated and then doing stupid shit on the computer machine or cellular telephone device.

And here is the breakdown for your pleasure.

SKYPE ME!

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Drunk Skyping (even at 4:44 am on a Wednesday) is okay, as long as it’s mutual and not a job interview. You can even Skype with cats! Yay! Online dates should maybe start out sober and then progress with a few drinks, but be careful. It’s easy to fall into one of the typecasts above if overindulgence occurs (don’t take my word for it, I date in analog).

FACEBOOK ME?

This is the most detrimental part of a social media online reputation. I mean, who doesn’t have a facebook? Oh right, people not worth being friends with (Wow, that was a joke. Sorry.) This is not the place to be drunk posting or messaging. I, myself have been called out on it, and all I asked was “how are you.’ Of course, it was 3:36am. My bad.

Here are examples of what might be posted by each of our typecast drunks:

Sad Drunk: My heart is broken. 😦  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2Rch6WvPJE

OR:

Thinking of you, Old Friend:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3FixiNdni0

Angry Drunk: OH EMMM GEEEEE! You thnk I’m tslking bout you but I’m not. Not everything is about you! Get over yourslef! (Typos are for effect only).

Cocky Drunk: Ramma Jamma, my ninja! Crackin’ Bottles and shit. Still at da club!

Sexy Drunk: Totally random selfie (at 4am)!

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DRUNK!

Happy Drunk: I wish I could pet you… and a zebra. Brunch tomorrow?

TMI Drunk: All this person would post would be 1 million Shared links from Friends Posts (mostly pictures of cats), Buzz Feed, and I Fucking Love Science.

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I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE!

TWITTER OF THE THUMBS

Now, with Twitter it isn’t as easy to tell the level of drunk, since It’s okay to misspell or abbreviate things. Plus, twitter can actually be somewhat anonymous and it’s always ticking away, so a tweet at 4am may not be scrutinized as closely.

Examples as follows:

Sad drunk: #Wishing the #stars would stop falling from the sky. #WishUponaStar #ImissYou http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNIPqafd4As

OR

#OMG, have you seen this #Video? So #Moving! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nAcgBf-JJFk

Angry Drunk: Fuck you @Diddy YOU SUCK because I said so! GHAAAA!!!!!! #IHATEYOU

Cocky Drunk:  Kicking #AlexTrebek’s ass in #TrivualPursuit. And I’m #DRUNK!

Sexy Drunk: OMG, I am so hot, I had to take off some clothes! heehee!

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Nice pink phone.

Happy Drunk: Just saw a grandma with an eyebrow ring. I love the universe!

TMI Drunk:

RT @OMGFacts After WWII, a Japanese pilot was made a honorary citizen of an US city he bombed! Details –> http://omgf.ac/ts/gB2 

RT @MarilynMonroe Warning: these pranks may cause severe anger http://bit.ly/1b9GXdE 

OMG BEY! RT @E1i5e Her stage presence slayed me dead to the ground… #beyonce http://instagram.com/p/bIvGxYr7mF/ 

TEXTING, TEXTING 1,2,3…

One time I sent out a mass text to all of my friends. I really thought I was being funny. I wrote “drunk text”. It was awesome and I was so clever. Sadly,  I have done it a few times since then and it has gotten old. I am waiting at least one year to do it again.

Be careful. It’s never okay to drink and text. Especially while driving.

THE NUMBER YOU HAVE REACHED…

Thankfully, drunk phone calls only happen with my friends (oh my god, as far as I know). When I was any of the drunk stereotypes in the past, cell phones were huge Zack Morris – type beasts and I would much rather be alone locked into a “state” in my room listening to Sophie B. Hawkins (As I Lay me Down to Sleep on REPEAT! KILL ME!), Courtney Love, Tonic, Counting Crows, or Live… no matter WHAT mood I was in. Nowadays, It’s a conversation with friends or Captain Clam and they are also usually drunk so we can be our drunken selves and cry and laugh and cheer each other on and be merry.

Just be careful. you can definitely have conversations that you don’t remember, even if you had it from 12am – 4am. Time tends to disappear when infused with the spirits. A good hint is to not drink while you are using the phone. Ha! Like that would ever happen.

EM@IL ME!

Wow. One of the WORST things you can do drunk is send emails. It’s okay to formulate a draft when you are drinking, but don’t hit that send button! And never send a drunk email from your phone! NEVER EVER EVER!

So, now that we have indulged our drunken spirits in the different types of drinking, socializing, and poor choice making, let’s figure out how to solve the problem of ourselves.  I would like to hold the internet responsible for our poor drunk decision making over the past 15 years and propose something called the “Double Goggle Initiative“.

Here is how it works:

Your electronic device works as a “breathalizer”. It is able to determine your drunk typecast based on keywords and a variety of other things based on what has been written. The DoubleGog (as I have affectionately named it) will analyze text based on the following:

Key Words, Content, Curse Words/Bad names, “love” or any other repetitive emotion

Typos and how many times it took to spell a word right

Grammar: Can what you wrote actually be understood?

What is the time based on where you are and the message destination?

Who are you sending this message to?

DoubleGog should ask a variety of questions based on your drunk typecast  (see Above) before authorizing transmission of the message.

Possible questions could be:

How many drinks have you had?

Are you crying?

Do you know what time it is?

Do you realize who you are sending this message to?

Have you actually reviewed this message?

Do you understand what you are saying?

Are you sure you want to send this message?

Are you sure you do not want to sleep on it?

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DENIED, Idiot!

DoubleGog would act as a counselor and friend when all of your other friends are fast asleep or sending their own drunken messages. And if DoubleGog deems that you indeed have no idea what you are doing or are in an emotional state that will not allow you to be rational, you will be denied the right to send the message at that moment in time.

In conclusuon, my dear fellow lushes, Don’t drink and drive, and don’t drink and type unless perchance, you are blogging. And if you really want to see what drunk blogging looks like, read my blog “I Heart Sandwiches.” I’m pretty sure I could have used a DoubleGog intervention on that one.

I love you.

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