1.) My best friend is a bartender.
2.) So is my other best friend.
3.) Bars serve peanuts. Peanuts are salty.
4.) Long islands.
5.) Dancing a little.
6.) Embarrassing myself in front of lots of old high school classmates.
7.) I actually stayed awake past bar time.
8.) We sat on a patio and sobered up with free fried food. Free fried food free fried food free fried food free fried food.
9.) The hangover was cake compared to Hangover on a Plane.
For your viewing pleasure. I added Sotting Drunk but its not on the list yet. I’ll get to it.
Wordle.net is pretty cool. For the full on version look here: I am Drunk.
~Forth
As the first child born in my family, I am celestially inclined towards list-making. Hence, I present you with a little something Forth and I came up with last fall whilst sitting bored at a Starbucks:
1.) Inebriated
2.) Sauced
3.) A bit tight
4.) Wasted
5.) Three sheets to the wind
6.) Pissed
7.) Tossed
8.) Fucked up
9.) Overserved
10.) Crunk
11.) Intoxicated
12.) Plastered
13.) Bombed
14.) Liquored up
15.) Off your face
16.) Buzzed
17.) Getting tipsy
18.) Shitfaced
19.) Sotting with brandy
20.) Trashed
21.) Under the influence
22.) Sloshed (an obvious miss courtesy of Viana_17)
23.) Hammered (another obvious miss courtesy of lostincollegestation)
24.) Shithoused (courtesy of lostincollegestation)
25.) Smashed (yet another obvious miss courtesy of fearthepenguin44)
26.) Loaded (fearthepenguin44)
27.) Loopy (fearthepenguin44)
28.) Blotto (T-dizzle-and bonus points because it is Aussie/Kiwi slang)
29.) Pitschsnoggled
30.) Tanked
31.) Bushwacked
32.) Tore-up
32.) Tow-up (29-32 courtesy of T-dizzle-speak)
33.) Sotting drunk
34.) Sozzled
35.) Four to the floor
36.) Fershnookered
37.) Blitzed
38.) Got beer goggles on (34-38 thanks to TheBeardedMan)
39.) Messed up
40.) Obliterated (39-41 courtesy of MadHatter)
41.) “In the loony bin” (’cause apparently it’s common with college kids in Iowa)
Did we miss any? TELL US, and maybe I’ll post the list of 22 ways to say “boning…”
**Back.
First of all, “Xenia” managed to get herself wasted enough for hospital admittance early Friday morning, and I puked myself inside out for a total of 13 hours between last night and this afternoon so let’s hear it for us–*clap *clap, okay.
In other news, Xenia and I went to a bridal shop yesterday afternoon to try on wedding and bridesmaid dresses and things. If there is anything you should know about Back, it’s that I don’t like attention, or women. However, it was a decent, non-traumatic experience overall. Had Forth been there he would have gotten a massive kick out of my embarrassment, but he knows this.
First, they strapped me into a bra/corset thing that was too small but I couldn’t remember my bra size at the moment, so shame on me. Also, I was made to put on this huge foofy slip thing that was more of a petticoat, and I probably would have liked it more if I’d gotten to call it that. As if getting the corset on wasn’t exercise enough, the heft and pull of getting in and out of 8 different wedding dresses was enough to make me look like I’d spent two hours at the gym rather than a bridal shop. Thankfully, my “attendant” was helpful but not pushy, and spent plenty of time running errands for other more demanding “brides.” Xenia was also a great help, re-hanging the dresses and adjusting my zippers and stuff. I did my best to ignore the smiles and comments being made by the other sisters, friends, and mothers, and just smiled along politely, hoisting myself up on the viewing blocks only when necessary. I quietly got excited about being all prettied up in all these gowns, though I was not as decisive in picking as I think the employees would have liked. I narrowed it down to three dresses, and three dresses for my bridesmaids, which Xenia changed in and out of with extremely swift, puma-like agility. Impressive, I’m telling you. Of course my mother and sister will have to be there to help me make the final choice, but there has been progress. To be totally honest, I don’t really care a whole lot about my wedding dress. There are billions of dresses to be seen and I’m not going to waste my time look for perfection, especially when it will only be worn once. Either way, I’m going to be more dolled up than everyone there, so why waste my time?
If I learned anything, it’s this: don’t get shitty tattoos. Yes, I’m speaking to the cute little blond girl with angel-wings on her back that totally killed her gorgeous pick-up bottomed gown. There was also a rather…portly middle-aged woman with a variety of faded cheap-looking tattoos (one of which was crafted to look like her shoulder had been clawed open to reveal a cow hide beneath), who brought her baby-daddy along to look, and mused about getting veils at Wal-Mart for 20 bucks cheaper. This, my friends, is a no-no. Women are not kind, and I saw the looks the other chicks were shooting her, and they were not pretty. Just like the woman in question. Ahem.
Anyways, the experience was decent, much like last night’s drunken shenanigans. Let me officially declare here and now that after a month of celebrating my 21st birthday, it’s time to put the citrus vodka away and give my liver rest. It kicked my ass, and I don’t wanna mess.
**Back
Categories: Back
Tagged: booze, wedding, wedding gowns
So I was thinking about what to write and I thought “Hmm, I’ll start out talking about the freak who keeps searching ‘fingers myself’” but then I looked and WHAM Forth beat me to it. It popped up again today, in another variation-’finger my self.’ And a note to the perv who searched ‘naked princess jasmine’: there’s a special place in hell, buddy. A very special place. AH! I almost forgot about the ’seth rogan naked’ query. For one I doubt he’s done any nudies. For two, SETH ROGAN? No Brad Pitt? Chance Crawford? McDreamy?
Since this is site is Forth AND Back, I suppose it would be appropriate to mention that today was a very productive day in the realm of wedding planning. We secured our reception venue, thanks to the 7 AM tenacity of my mother, and thus the date: June 20, 2009. The photographer was also booked today, and I got advice from a future new cousin on how far in advance to book blocks of hotel rooms. Yes, I shall pat myself on the……back. So far this wedding business seems to be fairly simple, and I’ve assured all those near me that I will be the calmest damned bride this world has ever seen. I’m fairly certain my mother will take care of freaking out enough for all of us anyways. The end result is going to be the same, no matter when, where, or what type of flowers.
Onto….LARS AND THE REAL GIRL. I didn’t think it was as great as Forth let on, but it was a very lovely film indeed. Ryan Gosling could have done with a shave and a hair-do, then again, I just like ‘em hot. As a friend mentioned, you’re laughing at things and then you realize Hmm….this IS sad. The scenery was also tragic in that it reminded me of 95% of the outlying little villages near my hometown–hideous home decor and horrid wardrobe choices. It all came together for a very pathetic effect though, that drove the movie perfectly. They also didn’t go too overboard with the psychology thing which was good. I was left with a couple questions upon finishing the movie: Would Lars ever admit that he knew Bianca was fake? And, Hmm, Lars is probably loaded, what with no rent and no social life, but how much does a Real Doll really cost? This, friends, led me to the Real Doll site, which I HIGHLY recommend you visit. Holy CRAP! First I was just curious to see if the dolls spoke their bios when scrolled over like Lars’ co-worker did, which I found hilarious, but unfortunately they do not. According to the site, Lars would have spent $6,499 + tax + $500 shipping and handling for Bianca. That folks, is frickin’ expensive. Want the specs on one of the saddest things EVAR?
Real Dolls are made with 100% silicone, and come in all sizes, with a variety of face choices. They are odorless and flavorless, and come with 3 orifices for your pleasure. While the vagina and anus locations are very lifelike (when water-based lube is used, of course), Real Doll users have reported extremely “intense sensations” while practicing oral sex (featuring ribbed mouths no less) with their dolls, namely Britney-Face 12, and Gabrielle-Face 16. Big men don’t fear—Real Dolls can support 400 lbs of sweaty, pathetic male-flesh. And yes boys, you can style their hair and safely shower with them. For those of you thinking, Wow, this is great, but I’d really like an additional penis extension, extra wigs, a Glowcock or more pairs of eyes for my Real Biatch, worry not–all of these accessories and more are available. Because some of us are into trannys and 6-eyed hos? Unfortunately for women, there is only one Real Doll face choice for men, and that is Charlie-Face M1, and he looks like a coked-out prison escapee. The penis choices, however, are ENDLESS. Like ‘em big? Tiny? Even flaccid, if you just want to look at it or something. You can put any sort of wang on Charlie, or just buy the torso with penis for only $1299. Not only can you pick the penis, but you can choose the pubic hair. Whether you like your men shaved, trimmed, or au natural, Real Doll can make all of your sad, lonely, neurotic fantasies a reality. Too much of a reality, come to that.
Ah, If only Lars had considered that $7000 could buy him like, 800 dates with a paid escort (only 3, if you’re rolling Spitzer-style.) Of course then, there would be no movie. Since this post has gotten a little out of hand (seriously…check the Real Doll site for a great laugh), I’ll wrap it up. More this weekend when I get a visit from one of my best high school friends, whom I shall call “Xenia” for all nostalgic purposes. She is turning 21 and I’ve got enough booze in this apartment to kill a small moose.
**Back
Categories: Back
Tagged: booze, Lars and the Real Girl, Movies, Real Dolls, wedding
Some people write songs about the kind of day I had today.
They write songs and then drink 3 cosmos on an empty stomach and pass out on the bed, drooling excessively for 3 hours while Forth watches The West Wing and thunder booms outside. Wait…did I? Oh yeah… Anyways, I’ve had enough of President Bartlett for one day. Also, do not be alarmed if the video that Forth posted does not work. It didn’t work when I clicked on it either. That is okay though—the last thing I want is for ALL OUR READERS to see what we look like and come stalk our hot asses. The video was pretty cute though. Forth is good with that kind of stuff.
Today I put in only 5 hours at the coffee shop. Given it is the second day in a row I’ve gotten off my shift early, it didn’t stop the most hideous customers in the world from coming in. 5 pounds of coffee, 4 extra large drinks, 5 cookies, writing a check? Excuse me? Oh wait Back, in addition to dealing with these ugly balls of rude without a break, please train somebody in on the register. Sweet. There is probably no real problem here aside from I was cranky and I have to close for the next 4 nights in a row. And essentially I won’t get to see Forth until Wednesday night. Speaking of Forth, we watched David Duchovny’s The TV Set the other night. I barely even remember it–and not because I was drinking, but because it was just that worthless of a movie. Seriously. Where did that hour and a half go? No freaking idea. David Duchovny did not even look hot because he was sporting a beard, so who really cares? Nobody.
And on that note, I shall go to bed. I believe I am hydrated enough and have gotten rid of most of my drool and vodka-breath. Anon, good fellows.
**Back
Hello World.
This post is an ode to the lighting at the Cheesecake Factory. It is dim. It is sexy. It looks like a theater. It promotes Back-getting-drunk. And ours in particular looked like an Egyptian Temple. The one at Mayfair is not that hot, let me tell you. The ceiling is painted in swirly colors which, after a martini and a mojito I happened to notice looked like Martha Stewart threw up on our solar system. I love a baby-blue Saturn, let me tell you. I’d also like to tell you that it too me 2 tries to spell ‘Saturn.’ Anyways…I do not like cheesecake anyway, so I guess I should end this post. The last one was too long anyway.
And that folks…..is what she said.
**Back
P.S. Happy Birthday Rebecca!
Anyone in the world who saw our Twitter message knows that my recollection of Smart People might be slightly hazy, despite my full stomach (hooray for bacon-avocado burgers!) But anyways.
That said, I wasn’t much for that movie. Sure there was a solid basis–a nice idea for a movie, but it was like putting Heidi Klum in an XL sweatsuit–all the good parts are hidden and shapeless and there’s just no point. As if Dennis Quaid’s personality wasn’t unappealing enough, his corn-cob-up-ass walk plus grossly prosthetic tub of a belly made things worse. He had no redeeming qualities even up through the end. If there is one thing an English major knows, its that a character is supposed to make some sort of change at the end, and I just wasn’t sold on his “transformation.” Just because Quaid [SPOILER] sperminated Sarah Jessica Parker and produced not one, but two babies does not mean he is a changed man. Sure his reproductive fitness is apparently stellar but again…there was no progression. We got a hint of compassion when he clichedly asks each student in his gigantic lecture where they are from in the end, but that’s not even practical. It’s just wasting time.
Ellen Page was cast as if the director knew that she would repeat her Juno persona, but thought, “Well, if we make her a badly-dressed Young Republican, things will be COMPLETELY different.” But in the end, Page just spouted the same lines without the indie-kid jargon. There was nothing really wrong with her character though. She was merely the victim of a half-developed subplot like 99% of the other characters. And I liked her bedsheets.
As Forth said, Thomas Haden Church saved the movie. His lines were appropriately funny and always spoken at the right moment. Though he was the most popular character, I still wasn’t pulling for or feeling sorry for anyone in the movie. I only wish that we hadn’t been subjected to any shots of his bare bum, much like I wish we didn’t have to see him doing Sandra Oh in Sideways. *Shudder.
Of course the most pointless character was Quaid’s son. I don’t remember his name in the movie or in real life. As far as I can tell, he was placed there only to partake in a brief sex scene with his mildly cute Asian girlfriend, which was much more exciting than the condom snafu with Dennis Quaid and SJP. Seriously…how can a 50-year old man NOT remember how to properly use a condom, and how can a woman who wears black stilettos while at work in the ER miss the fact that it malfunctioned?
Alright so speaking of Sarah Jessica Parker, who is ready for Sex & the City: The Movie??? I completely am!! Now that I have seen every highly-edited episode courtesy of TBS and our DVR, I’m fully immersed and ready to savor every sweet word that comes out of Mr. Big’s mouth on the silver screen. My only problem is who to go see the movie with. As of now, the plan is to find Forth some naked pictures of Kristen Davis and then get him wasted enough to consent to accompanying me. If that doesn’t work, I’m more than happy to be the girl who goes to movies alone.
But perhaps now is the time to ask oneself, What would Ellen Page do?
**Back
Categories: Back
Tagged: booze, Juno, Movies, Sex & the City, Smart People
Just a shout out to the other cool, but apparently not only betch that reads this blog.
Does everyone remember that song that was playing while Katharine Heigl and Seth Rogan were dancing and getting wasted in preparation for unintentional babymaking in Knocked Up? Well, I heard that song while bar-hopping in my hometown–a very depressingly farmy town–so I danced wildly to it while doing the dice-move with my total BFF foreva Emily, and thus went home and downloaded it. It would be terrible out of context but it is completely funny. I love that movie….
And the moral of that story was that is was pretty much the high point of bar-hopping in my hometown. There are so many farm boys in those bars that girls just wear sweatshirts. I suppose it’s better than seeing them all slutted up though. ‘Cause like I said before….I just might start some stuff.
Speaking of movies, Forth and I are about to head out to see Smart People with our usual group. I am super-hungry, fairly drunk, and smell like coffee. Forth and I shall not discuss the movie on the way home, and then we will post reviews here, so be sure to check back now, y’all.
**Back
