The Drunk Life

I am pleased to see that another UAlbany student, Tara House, is writing extensively about her sex organs. Tara is currently a staff writer for College Candy, and recently made reference to The Drunk Life, saying that certain articles contained “ridiculous ideas about blowjobs.” For the full story on the controversy, read Tara’s article So You Want a Better BJ? Well What About My Va-Jay-Jay?

The notions contained in March’s slew or oral sex articles are not ridiculous. Using the term Va-Jay-Jay is ridiculous. Personally I prefer box, beaver, cooter, or panty hamster.

Read both stories, and then leave some comments and let us know what you think about the whole situation. If that doesn’t sound like fun, just leave comments with your favorite slang terms for vagina. Wizard’s sleeve anyone?

Happy St. Patrick’s Day from TheDrunkLife.com!

The sidewalks here in Albany, N.Y. are covered in snow, so just “walk in groups in the middle of the street” like you were trying not to get raped. For those of you looking for some Irish drink recipies that are a little more authentic than Keystone and food coloring, I did a little homework for ya.

• Half & Half: Guinness Stout layered on top of Harp Lager.
• Black and Tan: Guinness Stout layered on top of Smithwick’s Irish Ale
• Trinity Pint: Guinmess Stout layered on top of Smithwick’s, which is layered on top of Harp. You can see my pouring skills below.
• Irish Coffee: Coffee with cream, sugar, and whiskey! You may substitute Baliey’s Irish Cream for whiskey at the surrender of your testicles.

There are a bunch more “Irish” drinks, but that should be enough to go on. And if you happen to be in Albany for the holiday, no St. Patrick’s Day would be complete without some Irish Nachos from the Washington Tavern. I’ll see ya there.

There are a lot of reasons to get a new phone. Many a phone has been shattered over an ex-lover or stolen by a scumbag with an ebay account. Who hasn’t blacked out and lost their celly, or gracefully used it as a projectile? College students break cell phones like they’re animal skin condoms.

Anyone how has ever tried to salvage a damaged phone, make a warranty claim, or cash in on their total equipment protection knows that cell phone companies a stingy motherfuckers. They don’t get the money for celebrity endorsements and commercials by giving away phones to deserving customers. Their favorite scapegoat for your phone phollies? Water Damage.

In defense of the phone companies, usually when they say your phone has been dropped, crushed or spilt on, it has. With physical damage, it’s hard to say it came with a missing button or cracked screen. But with water damage, people will argue to the death that it was never submerged in natty-ice, and that it “just stopped working.”

Bruce’s phone (pictured above) suffered a most heinous fate. It was in his pocket when he stumbled home from the bar, passed out, and then had an accident in the night. He awoke, pulled out his phone to call into work, and found it unresponsive, sopping wet, and curiously scented. I’d love to see the look on the face of the Sprint Sales Rep. when Bruce hands him the phone and then explains that he pissed on it.

Finding out your phone has water damage is like finding out your girlfriend has herpes. You can’t fix it. It’s done. Move on. Get a new one. But like acquiring women, new phones require capital. In fact, the similarities between phones and women are many. Both want you to make some sort of long-term commitment. They do offer month-to-month plans, but often many features will be unavailable.

Top of the line phones and women are only available to people with a good history, lots of money, and the ability to make a commitment. But if you’re going to use it, abuse it, and eventually piss it off and get a new one; might as well just scoop up a refurbished model.

Apparently believing in yourself is not enough. After watching this “audition,” phrases such as “you can do anything you set your mind to” and “believe and you will achieve” are nothing more than boldfaced lies. As silly a video as this was, it has made me re-evaluate my beliefs about the world.

It is true that individuals don’t need natural talent to achieve great success.

• A young man who was cut from his school’s varsity basketball team once went on to become the greatest player of all time; his name is Michael Jordan. With hard work much is possible.
• A young man who repetitively put the lives of innocent American motorists at risk by driving intoxicated once went on to become The President of the United States; his name is George W. Bush. With Republicans much is possible.

So what’s the verdict on Eccentric? Could he really “blow up bigger than Michael Jackson?” It’s a stretch, but yes. With a society that loves reality television, and finds not faults with programs such as The Biggest Loser and movies like The Ringer, how far are we from disregarding all shreds of consideration, privacy, and decency? Will we embrase our inner filth? Is Flavor of Love a stepping-stone to The World’s Smartest Retard? With the FOX network much is possible.

So Eccentric’s chances at being more famous than Michael Jackson come down to three options.

1. Get diagnosed as handicapped to compete on FOX network in an upcoming program that masks making fun of the mentally handicapped with some sort of human spirit overcoming adversity contest.
2. Build a ranch, buy some candy, design a clown suit, lose a puppy, and hang out at playgrounds.
3. Run for President.

This year’s Super Bowl was awesome. The Super Bowl is always awesome. Why is this? Because it’s a sport. A competitive sport. Deeply entrenched in human nature is a desire to fight, to strive, to overcome. From an early age, all people dream of growing up and kicking ass. Some people dream of being a pirate, a ninja, or even a tiger. Some dream of being a part-man, part-tiger, pirate-ninja. Whatever our dreams, we all wanna kick some ass. Sadly, too many people grow up to be security guards, nurses and politicians. These people rarely get the opportunity to make collisions of a podiatry-gluteus nature.

This depressing reality is the reason every red-blooded American (and the occasional British kid with a green card) comes together once a year to watch professional steroid-infused ass-kickers earn their million dollar contracts. But what do we do once the Super Bowl is over, and the ass-kicking spirit within us has been awakened, but it’s time to go back to daily life? There are two options. You could wait for next year’s Super Bowl, which would involve good temperament and patience (ass-kicking’s mortal enemies.) Or you could take all that sports teach us, and learn to kick life in the ass on a daily basis. An ass-kicker always chooses option B.

Five Ways to Kick More Ass:

1. When a coworker, fellow student, or business partner overcomes adversity and completes a difficult task, don’t offer up last year’s timid hank-shake. Show them your appreciation by pouring the nearest mass of liquid over their head. Common options are coffee, clam chowder, or Gatorade. Electrolytes kick ass.
2. Take a frisbee and chuck it at your cat. If the cat fails to catch the frisbee and return it to you, stop feeding your cat. Take the money you save and buy a Dog. Dogs kick ass.
3. Showboat. If you do something great, show it off. Modestly is for mediocre accomplishments. Anyone displaying honor student bumper stickers, participation certificates, or medals for anything other than first place is a second-class citizen and should be treated as such. For the rest of us ass kickers, it’s important to tell the world of our accomplishments. If you score higher on a test than a fellow student, autograph your paper, crumple it into a ball, set it on fire, and them proceed to dunk it down the back of your classmate’s shirt NBA Jam style. NBA Jam kicks ass.
4. Athletes do not “slap fives.” A high five is to ass-kicking as Steven Hawkings is to ass-kicking. God Awful. Notice how football players acknowledge each other with a firm smack of the lower backside curve. Next time you see a buddy, break ‘em off with a firm slap to the backside.
5. Wear iceskates as Mittens.

Global warming kicks ass. Many people may have seen Al Gore’s movie An Inconvenient Truth and consequently think differently. This would be a mistake for several reasons. First of all, watching a movie without pervasive foul language, explicit sex, or gratuitous violence is a complete waste of time. If you’re at the A-C section of Hollywood Video and you see An Inconvenient Truth two rows above Cheerleader Massacre, you should start preparing for an evening of big-breasted carnage. Second, when one college student invites another over to “watch a movie” it really means, “How would you like to come to my dorm, watch 15 minutes of Swimfan and then give me a beej?” Finally, Al Gore sucks. He has no presence, no charisma, and is not a captivating public speaker. The man lost an election to George W. Bush. Say what you want about the popular vote or Electoral College, the point is they’re on the same level. It’s like going to an all-retard adoption clinic; you can’t win.

As the world gets warmer each year, a lot of good things are going to happen. Girls will be in a perpetual state of heightened nudity, people will wear more deodorant, and penguins will have to migrate to America, adapt to our climate, and do our bidding. We will also see the elimination of “beer chills.” Beer chills is the physiological phenomenon whereby people fail to notice the effects of the cold on their immune system during periods of extreme intoxication, and wake up extremely sick as a result. This happens because the combination of alcohol and cold weather causes heat to leave the body through the skin. This makes the subject feel warm, when in reality; he or she is losing heat and getting colder. This breaks down the immune system and makes the subject more susceptible to disease. If you wake up from a night of bad decisions, and find your hangover accompanied by advanced sickness, you may have been a victim of beer chills. If two weeks pass and symptoms persist, congratulations, you have AIDS.

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The modern pirate is a crude and castrated excuse for the legendary pirates of the imperial era. I wish that by some miracle of time-travel, a badass, bearded, pillaging pirate could meet with the snot-nosed, napstering, sissy pirates of today. The resultant beat down would be akin to George Bush hog-tied at a PETA piñata party.

Nationwide attention has been given to 16-year-old modern pirate from White Plains, N.Y., who goes by the name of Robert Santangelo. Santangelo has never looted a village, wiped out an endangered species, or conquered a sensuous woman with his un-bathed, manly, pheromoneous odor. Rather, Santangelo’s pirate booty consists of mp3s files admittedly ripped form his sister’s CD collection. Santangelo is countersuing five record companies claiming that they violated anti-trust laws, failed to warn him of the illegality of peer-to-peer (p2p) file sharing, and that their original lawsuit has distracted him from his school work.

Apparently this is the first time someone has opted to take a definative stance against the record companies instead of settling. If Santangelo had a single solitary ounce of pirate-blood flowing through his veins, his idea of not settling would have been severing the industry executives’ legs at the kneecap and feeding the remnants to a ticking crocodile. If there is still a doubt that Santangelo fails to meet adequate piracy standards, please refer to the following comparison graph:

Pirate. Santangelo.

• Alias:

Captain cunilingus.
Bobby.

• Title Origin:

Pie meets Irate; someone’s getting smashed in the face.
San Francisco, Tanning, and Gelatin; not a manly combination.

• Memories of music:

Blood-curdling screams of vanquished enemies.
Jock Jams.

• Battle Cry:

“ARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGG!”
“ARRRRRRRREEEEEEE you gonna be my lover?”

• Hidden Treasure:

Heart of dire nemesis, ripped out and hidden under bedrock. (Still beating.)
pp.7-12 of Issue#147 of Hustler Magazine, ripped out and hidden under bed. (Still beating.)

• Laws broken:

All, never caught or punished.
Copyright & curfew, cried both times.

• Impact on future generations:

Sexual Prowess well documented.
Waiting for Junior Prom.