alcohol

In My Brain While Sleeping… I May Have A Drinking Problem

Posted on by sgottahurt

I’m almost as hooked on the snooze bar as I am the booze bar, but as of late, I have not recalled many of my dreams.  This morning – a whopper, a flopper, and a doozy.

SCENARIO UNO

Do not go Freudian on me.

Do not go Freudian on me.

I was the eldest lad in a family of seafarers.  The brood’s Papa was a maritime cop, and he must have had it hard (who wants to have any job that begins with maritime?).  Every night it seemed Mama would wait for him to get home to serve dinner, and every night he’d be late (you’d think Mama would have learned).  I remember working on a crossword puzzle in a magazine.  I also recall the entire decor looking retro 70’s, or maybe it took place in the 70’s.  (Hello “Life on Mars.”)  Anyway, when Papa would get home, the first thing he’d do was pour a glass of whiskey on the rocks.  Then he’d dunk a banana in it.  He called it the Cop-a-Cabanana.

SCENARIO DOS

Hot chocolate chips!

Hot chocolate chips!

I don’t drink coffee.  As I’ve stated before, my cup of tea is Mountain Dew.  In my brain, I must live for Starbucks.  For some reason, while in line to get my iced mochachino espressosaurus rex, the announcement was made that Starbucks was being bought out.  That this shocked me in the dream shocks me now.  The reason for the buyout: too many people that bought their coffee were losing their jobs, and thus poor Starbucks was going down.  The purchaser: Mrs. Field’s Cookies.  They also bought out Arby’s for who-know-why.  My question was, “How could Mrs. Field’s succeed where Starbucks failed?”  The answer: No matter what, everyone eats cookies.

SCENARIO TRES

I couldn

No Photoshopping here.

This was by far one of the most disturbing – not in content, but in juxtaposition of content.  Stitch (the alien experiment to the left) was boozing it up and chomping down cigars faster than George Burns, Bill Clinton, and Monica Lewinsky put together.  (He kind of reminded me of the smoking chimp.)  And that’s fine.  It’s well within Stitch’s personality.  But to note: this dream was in cartoon form, and this is where things spiraled into time for me to wake up.   Across the room, Stitch spotted an inflatable doll.  He stumbled towards it, placed his head between its legs, and bit.  Pop! 

Needless to say, I had it enough with the snooze bar. 

…We’ll see about the regular bar.

INGREDIENTS: Cajun chicken sandwich, soggy bar fries, and mucho de boozo.

JusWondering… Is Mark Hamill Playing Bob Costas?

Posted on by sgottahurt

When I was watching any football game but the Lions this weekend, I couldn’t help but notice announcer Bob Costas was beginning to look like a certain Jedi Knight.

Trust me - watch NBC Sports

Trust me - watch NBC Sports

Throw a little Botox into Mark Hamill’s visage, and he could be playing the guy giving the play-by-plays (or at least his analysis thereof).

…Or maybe I was just drinking too much this weekend.

Batter up!

Batter up!

Drunken Recollection… Things Learned Over Thanksgiving Weekend

Posted on by sgottahurt

Thanksgiving weekend has come and gone, as has all the turkey (et. al.) through me.  With this in mind, I shall impart onto you the various things that I learned over the past four days.

1) There is something called The Amazing Plant Lamp.  As the website proclaims:

The only lamp of its kind where you quickly touch the live plant to turn it on and off or hold a leaf and it works as a dimmer.

Ain’t that the bees knees!  Just stick the Amazing Plant Lamp kit in any plant and voila!

2) Raisins are forcibly put into too many things, like cinnamon bread and puddings.  I usually don’t eat any of these foods anyway, but I can relate because of how common it is for bakers to put nuts in fudge brownies (that could be taken out of context)!  Enough!  I want choices!

(SIDE NOTE: I used to like Fig Newtons as a kid because I thought it was some kind of weird tasting chocolate.  Then I learned and thus hated them.)

3) Chocotinis have zero alcohol content, despite what anyone else might claim.  My sister was pulled over for having non-working turn signals.  She was nervous and forgot her alphabet.  The cop made her do the random balance tests and the such, then he gave her a Breathalyzer test.  She blew zero.  Case closed!

4) You can break the bottom off a beer bottle with water and a hand slap.  Basically, take an empty bottle (in this case, it was Coors Light), fill it halfway with water, hold the neck in one hand, and slam the palm of your other hand on the bottle’s mouth.  The bottom drops out from the instant air pressure, I guess.  Apparently, beer has more shock absorption.

5) My cousin Steve might be a diabolical genius.  In discussing the biggest insults one man could make against another (backhanding was #3… spitting in face was #2… we didn’t go beyond what’s to follow), he declared the greatest coup, the most humiliating attack, the most degrading defeat, the biggest insult to be ever perpetrated in the world would be this – to tickle a man in front of his family.  Right in front of his wife, his children, and his dog.  Tickled to the point of tears and uncontrollable laughter.  It’s guaranteed that after the giggles were through, he’d pack up his things and walk out the door, not saying a word, not making any eye contact, swearing to himself to never return again, and all this would be understood.  Out of humiliation he’d still support the family, though thousands of miles away.  And his family could become your family.

6) As a kid, I watched WXYZ Channel 7 way more than I realized, because they had a special on about their past 60 years, and I got choked up.  Stupid nostalgia…

7) I would put that the Detroit Lions suck, but I already knew that.

Drunken Recollection… Movies of the Week Circa 1980

Posted on by sgottahurt

i’m not in as much pain as I was in last time, but on this eve of hops and barley, I’ve become deteremined to find the name of one, if not both, TV movies.

Let me interject my theory on the way the brain works.  I feel the best way to picture our memory is that it’s a warehouse full of boxes.  The older you grow, the more boxes you get.  There may be millions or billions, but basically, what it comes down to is which boxes you can access.  This determines, in part, your intelligence, or at least, your memory.

How I picture it is these boxes contain knowledge you’ve amassed through your life, but if the top is closed (due to alcohol, drugs, age, stress), it’s temporarily or perminently lost.  Why I say that is because sometimes you can send your synapses to look for something… and for the life of you, you know what it is but you can’t think of it… then days ly of this ater it pops in your head.

This is what I’m hoping for with these recollections.  ( I don’t even know if any of this makes any sense.)  I’m hoping I can trigger an answer.

The first flick I recalled was presumably named “The Vindicator,” but via IMDb, I discovered this film was a  “Robocop” clone.  What I remember about the movie was there was this guy who’s brother died in a car accident, so he souped up his truck with weapons (I remember a grapple hook most of all).  He set out to exact revenge against erratic drivers.  The very first catch he made with his hook was a man trying to get his pregnant wife to a hospital.

The second flick, well, that was easy.  I remembered one night in my youth, when I had a loose tooth about to fall out, this TV movie where a mentally challenged man was accused of hurting/killing a young girl, so he hid in a scarcrow.  They found him and killed him, but he returned from the dead or something.  IMDb did it’s job on this one: it’s called “Dark Night of the Scarecrow.”

I also found this on YouTube.  Thank heavens for the Internet – we don’t ever need to remember ever again.

If you have any inkling about the other movie, please give me a clue.

Zima’s Not Even Cold In The Ground

Posted on by sgottahurt

This past week, MillerCoors announced that they’re “cancelling” Zima.

They’ve declared the “malternative” nation dead.

Though it may not be “malternatively” kosher, there’s a new kid on the block!  (No, really, look… it’s Danny Wood… the New Kid no one remembers… he’s working at the Burger King by my house…) (from Luxist)

Pernod Absinthe is a revival of Pernod Fils, arguably the most authentic absinthe ever produced with a recipe that’s over 200 years old… The original is a high-proof sprit distilled from Grand Wormwood, fennel and anise – exactly the same as consumed by the likes of Picasso, Van Gogh, Monet, and now, us.

“Pernod’s the right stuff to get get me through those long shifts at night, when all those drunk assholes come through the drive-thru, ordering Big Macs or Nacho Bell Grandes like they’re so fucking original,” Danny might say.

Drunken Recollection… Chicken Lizards

Posted on by sgottahurt

The last Drunken Recollection I partook(or is it partaked… partaken?) in occurred the next morn.  Tonight, I humbly attempt apropos of nothing to write this despite my greater interest in hitting the sack or floor or bathroom tile… (You have no idea how many typos I’ve corrected on the fly right now – seriously, I’m serious.)

Discussion tonight swam around the usual philosophic waxings of two grown adults that have known each other since the age of five.  The fact that we still find new things to discuss is in of itself an item of wonder.  (It’s one of life’s magic tricks, I presume.)

Tonight, it was the discussion of chicken lizards.  Allegedly, some scientist has found a way to manipulate chicken DNA so that it turns into a lizard, ‘natch.  Make that a “terrible lizard.”  (Common science nerds – I’m talkin’ dinosaurs here.)

In my investigations (Google is my Watson), I’ve found not a bit of evidence to support the tall tale.  But i have found this:

Kentucky Fried Dinosaurs

Kentucky Fried Dinosaurs

According to GetAngry, in New York and Massachusetts, this Taconic Chicken Lizard existed.  It’s only natural enemy was the Berkshire Mountain Monkey:

I think it had skin and muscles... maybe.

I think it had skin and muscles... maybe.

Still without scientific evidence, I searched further to find an artist’s representation of this hybrid (from Elfwood):

I think a kid from my third grade class drew the same thing.

I think a kid from my third grade class drew the same thing.

Unfortunately, with my buzz winding down, eureka!  (And if not eureka, at least “Eek the Cat”…)
From Miss Moneypenny CPU(?):

Australian scientists are trying to crack another evolution (adaptation?) mystery of a chicken evolving backwards into a lizard!

They believe the harsh Australian outback may be responsible to the survival of Speedy Speedcat’s cousin, Sheila Chickencat and her offspring!

Er, wait no… that doesn’t even make any sense… (And I thought I could speak Australian…)

I found that story twice, and not a lick of a chick with scales (I may be able to find that description).  I’ve looked as long as I can in my condition, and found nothing.  Is it bedtime yet?