the other side of @drunkbastard

How I plan on spending a rainy Thursday…

Our Daily Moment Of Zen

 1. Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me, either. Leave me the hell alone.

   2. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken fan belt and a leaky tire.

   3. It’s always darkest before dawn. So if you’re going to steal your neighbor’s newspaper, that’s the time to do it.

   4. Sex is like air. It’s not important unless you aren’t getting any.

   5. Don’t be irreplaceable. If you can’t be replaced, you can’t be promoted.

   6. No one is listening until you make a mistake.

   7. Always remember you’re unique. Just like everyone else.

   8. Never test the depth of the water with both feet.

   9. It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others.

  10. It is far more impressive when others discover your good qualities without your help.

  11. If you think nobody cares if you’re alive, try missing a couple of car payments.

  12. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes.  That way, when you criticize them, you’re a mile away and you have their shoes.

  13. If at first you don’t succeed, skydiving is not for you.

  14. Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish, and he will sit in a boat & drink beer all day.

  15. If you lend someone $20, and never see that person again, it was probably worth it.

  16. Don’t squat with your spurs on.

  17. If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.

  18. If you drink, don’t park; accidents cause people.

  19. Some days you are the bug, some days you are the windshield.

  20. Don’t worry, it only seems kinky the first time.

  21. Good judgment comes from bad experience, and a lot of that comes from bad judgment.

  22. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it back in your pocket.

  23. Timing has an awful lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.

  24. A closed mouth gathers no foot.

  25. Duct tape is like the force. It has a light side & a dark side, and it holds the universe together.

  26. There are two theories to arguing with women. Neither one works.

  27. Generally speaking, you aren’t learning much when your mouth is moving.

  28. Experience is something you don’t get until just after you need it.

  29. Never miss a good chance to shut up.

  30. We are born naked, wet, and hungry. Then things get worse.

Guy Scoring System

(NOTE: a score of “0” means it was expected of him)

Simple Duties

——————

* You go out to buy her spring-fresh extra-light panty-liners with wings: +5

* But return with beer: -5

* You check out a suspicious noise at night: 0

* You check out a suspicious noise and it’s nothing: 0

* You check out a suspicious noise and it’s something: +5

* You pummel it with a six iron: +10

* It’s her father: -10

Social Engagements

—————————

* You stay by her side the entire party: 0

* You stay by her side for awhile, then leave to chat with a college drinking buddy: -2

* Named Tiffany: -4

* Tiffany is a dancer: -6

* Tiffany has implants: -8

Saturday Afternoons

—————————-

* You visit her parents: +1

* You visit her parents and actually make conversation: +3

* You visit her parents and stare vacantly at the television: -3

* And the television is off: -6

* You spend the day watching college football in your underwear: -6

* And you didn’t even go to college: -10

* And it’s not really your underwear: -15

Her Birthday

——————

* You take her out to dinner: 0

* You take her out to dinner and it’s not a sports bar: +1

* Okay, it’s a sports bar: -2

* And it’s all-you-can-eat night: -3

* It’s a sports bar, it’s all-you-can-eat night, and your face is painted the colors of your favorite team: -10

* You give her a gift: 0

* You give her a gift, and it’s a small appliance: -10

* You give her a gift, and it’s not a small appliance: +1

* You give her a gift, and it isn’t chocolate: +2

* You give her a gift that you’ll be paying off for months: +30

* You wait until the last minute and buy her a gift that day: -10

* With her credit card: -30

* And whatever you bought is two sizes too small: -40

Thoughtfulness

———————————

* You forgot to pick her up at the bus station: -25

* Which is in Newark, New Jersey: -35

* And the pouring rain dissolves her leg cast: -50

A Night Out With Your Pals

————————————————————

* You have a few beers: -9

* For every beer after three: -2 again

* And miss curfew by an hour: -12

* You get home at 3 a.m.: -20

* You get home at 3 a.m. smelling of booze and cheap cigars: -30

* And not wearing any pants: -40

* Is that a tattoo? -200

A Night Out, Just the Two of You

————————————————————————-

* You go see a comic: +2

* He’s crude and sexist: -2

* You laugh: -5

* You laugh too much: -10

* She’s not laughing: -15

* You laugh harder: -25

Driving

—————

* You lose the directions on a trip: -4

* You lose the directions and end up getting lost: -10

* You end up getting lost in a bad part of town: -15

* You get lost in a bad part of town and meet the locals up close & personal: -25

* She finds out you lied about having a black belt: -60

Communication

———————————

* When she wants to talk about a problem, you listen, displaying what looks like a concerned expression: 0

* When she wants to talk, you listen, for over 30 minutes: +5

* You listen for more than 30 minutes, without looking at the television or picking up a newspaper: +10

* She realizes this is because you’ve fallen asleep: -10

Dating Rituals (in honor of V-Day)

WHITE WOMEN

First date: You get to kiss her goodnight.

Second date: You get to grope all over and make out.

Third date: You get to have sex, but only in the missionary position.

IRISH WOMEN

First Date: You both get blind drunk and have sex.

Second Date: You both get blind drunk and have sex.

20th Anniversary: You both get blind drunk and have sex.

ITALIAN WOMEN

First Date: You take her to a play and an expensive restaurant.

Second Date: You meet her parents and her Mom makes spaghetti and meatballs.

Third Date: You have sex, she wants to marry you and insists on a 3-carat ring.

5th Anniversary: You already have 5 kids together and hate the thought of having sex.

6th Anniversary: You find yourself a girlfriend.

JEWISH WOMEN

First Date: You get dynamite head.

Second Date: You get more great head.

Third Date: You tell her you’ll marry her and never get head again.

CHINESE WOMEN

First date: You get to buy her an expensive dinner, but nothing happens.

Second date: You buy her an even more expensive dinner. Nothing happens again.

Third date: You don’t even get to the third date and you already realized nothing is going to happen.

INDIAN WOMEN

First date: Meet her parents.

Second date: Set the date of the wedding.

Third date: Wedding night.

BLACK WOMEN

First Date: You get to buy her a real expensive dinner.

Second Date: You get to buy her and her girlfriends a real expensive dinner.

Third Date: You get to pay her rent.

Tenth Date: She’s pregnant by someone other than you.

MEXICAN WOMEN

First Date: You buy her an expensive dinner, get drunk on Tequila, and have sex in the back of her car.

Second Date: She’s pregnant.

Third Date: She moves in. One week later ~ her mother, father, his girlfriend, her two sisters, her brother, all of their kids, her grandma, her father’s girlfriend’s mother, her two cousins, her sister’s boyfriend and his three kids move in and you live on rice and beans for the rest of your life in your home that used to be nice, but now looks like a home along the Rio Grande.

The POINT?

DON’T YOU JUST LOVE IRISH WOMEN?

Real Guy School final exam

1. Alien beings from a highly advanced society visit the Earth, and you are the first human they encounter. As a token of intergalactic friendship, they present you with a small but incredibly sophisticated device that is capable of curing all disease, providing an infinite supply of clean energy, wiping out hunger and poverty, and permanently eliminating oppression and violence all over the entire Earth. You decide to:

a. Present it to the president of the United States.

b. Present it to the secretary general of the United Nations.

c. Take it apart.

2. As you grow older, what lost quality of your youthful life do you miss the most?

a. Innocence.

b. Idealism.

c. Cherry bombs.

3. When is it okay to kiss another male?

a. When you wish to display simple and pure affection without regard for narrow-minded social conventions.

b. When he is the pope. (Not on the lips.)

c. When he is your brother and you are Al Pacino and this is the only really sportsmanlike way to let him know that, for business reasons, you have to have him killed.

4. What about hugging another male?

a. If he’s your father and at least one of you has a fatal disease.

b. If you’re performing the Heimlich maneuver. (And even in this case, you should repeatedly shout: “I am just dislodging food trapped in this male’s trachea! I am not in any way aroused!”)

c. If you’re a professional baseball player and a teammate hits a home run to win the World Series, you may hug him provided that: (1) He is legally within the basepath, (2) Both of you are wearing protective cups, and (3) You also pound him fraternally with your fist hard enough to cause fractures.

5. Complete this sentence: A funeral is a good time to…

a. …remember the deceased and console his loved ones.

b. …reflect upon the fleeting transience of earthly life.

c. …tell the joke about the guy who has Alzheimer’s disease and cancer.

6. In your opinion, the ideal pet is:

a. A cat.

b. A dog.

c. A dog that eats cats.

7. You have been seeing a woman for several years. She’s attractive and intelligent, and you always enjoy being with her. One leisurely Sunday afternoon the two of you are taking it easy — you’re watching a football game; she’s reading the papers — when she suddenly, out of the clear blue sky, tells you that she thinks she really loves you, but she can no longer bear the uncertainty of not knowing where your relationship is going. She says she’s not asking whether you want to get married; only whether you believe that you have some kind of future together. What do you say?

a. That you sincerely believe the two of you do have a future, but you don’t want to rush it.

b. That although you also have strong feelings for her, you cannot honestly say that you’ll be ready anytime soon to make a lasting commitment, and you don’t want to hurt her by holding out false hope.

c. That you cannot believe the Jets called a draw play on third and seventeen.

8. Okay, so you have decided that you truly love a woman and you want to spend the rest of your life with her — sharing the joys and the sorrows, the triumphs and the tragedies, and all the adventures and opportunities that the world has to offer, come what may. How do you tell her?

a. You take her to a nice restaurant and tell her after dinner.

b. You take her for a walk on a moonlit beach, and you say her name, and when she turns to you, with the sea breeze blowing her hair and the stars in her eyes, you tell her.

c. Tell her what?

9. One weekday morning your wife wakes up feeling ill and asks you to get your three children ready for school. Your first question to her is:

a. “Do they need to eat or anything?”

b. “They’re in school already?”

c. “There are three of them?”

10. When is it okay to throw away a set of veteran underwear?

a. When it has turned the color of a dead whale and developed new holes so large that you’re not sure which ones were originally intended for your legs.

b. When it is down to eight loosely connected underwear molecules and has to be handled with tweezers.

c. It is never okay to throw away veteran underwear. A real guy checks the garbage regularly in case somebody — and we are not naming names, but this would be his wife — is quietly trying to discard his underwear, which she is frankly jealous of, because the guy seems to have a more intimate relationship with it than with her.

11. What, in your opinion, is the most reasonable explanation for the fact that Moses led the Israelites all over the place for forty years before they finally got to the Promised Land?

a. He was being tested.

b. He wanted them to really appreciate the Promised Land when they finally got there.

c. He refused to ask directions.

12. What is the human race’s single greatest achievement?

a. Democracy.

b. Religion.

c. Remote control.

How to Score: Give yourself one point for every time you picked answer “c.” A real guy would score at least 10 on this test. In fact, a real guy would score at least 15, because he would get the special five-point bonus for knowing the joke about the guy who has Alzheimer’s disease and cancer.

Real Guy School midterm exam

1. In the company of feminists, coitus should be referred to as:

a) Lovemaking
b) Screwing
c) The pigskin bus pulling into tuna town

2. You should make love to a woman for the first time only after you’ve both shared:

a) Your views about what you expect from a sexual relationship
b) Your blood-test results
c) Five tequila slammers

3. You time your orgasm so that:

a) Your partner climaxes first
b) You both climax simultaneously
c) You don’t miss SportsCenter

4. Passionate, spontaneous sex on the kitchen floor is:

a) Healthy, creative love-play
b) Not the sort of thing your wife/girlfriend would ever agree to
c) Not the sort of thing your wife/girlfriend need ever find out about

5. Spending the whole night cuddling a woman you’ve just had sex with is:

a) The best part of the experience
b) The second best part of the experience
c) $100 extra

6. Your girlfriend says she’s gained five pounds in weight in the last month.  You tell her that it is:

a) No concern of yours
b) Not a problem - she can join your gym
c) A conservative estimate

7. You think today’s sensitive, caring man is:
a) A myth
b) An oxymoron
c) A moron

8. Foreplay is to sex as:

a) Appetiser is to entree
b) Priming is to painting
c) A queue is to an amusement park ride

9. Which of the following are you most likely to find yourself saying at the end of a relationship?

a) “I hope we can still be friends.”
b) “I’m not in right now. Please leave a message after the tone….”
c) “Welcome to Dumpsville. Population: You.”

10. A woman who is uncomfortable watching you masturbate:

a) Probably needs a little more time before she can cope with that sort of intimacy
b) Is uptight and a waste of time
c) Shouldn’t have sat next to you on the bus in the first place

If you answered ‘A’ more than 7 times, check your pants to make sure you really are a man.

If you answered ‘B’ more than 7 times, check into therapy, you’re still a little confused.

If you answered ‘C’ more than 7 times, call me up.  Let’s go drinking.

Pooh Goes Apeshit

with (posthumous) apologies to A.A. Milne

Everything was rather quiet in the hundred acre wood.  The trees whispered to each other as the wind rustled their leaves.  Under a large oak tree, there lived Pooh bear.  From inside Pooh’s house, there came a steady bang…bang… bang!, that was making his honey jars rattle on the sideboard.  The light came through the window, and in the evening sun Pooh raised the axe once more and brought it down on the tattered remains of Christopher Robin.  “Why…won’t… he…fit…” puffed Pooh to himself as the axe came down once more.  There was a small pile of earth, and a hole next to it, which Pooh had hidden with his favourite rug.  Christopher Robin, selfish prat that he was, didn’t quite fit in the hole Pooh had dug, so instead of making it wider he had decided to hack Christopher Robin’s legs off.  “A far more sensible idea”, thought Pooh, and hummed a little song to himself as he cut the last tendon and rammed the rest of the body in the hole, finally covering it up with the rug.  “Always too bossy”, thought Pooh, “always too bossy, always grabbing me by the paw and saying ‘Come on Pooh lets have an adventure’ or ‘Pooh you are silly!’ in that affected cutesy spoilt brat voice, and his stupid little shorts - bastard!”

Pooh had waited all afternoon for Christopher Robin to come round, humming a little tuneless song to himself whilst gazing blankly into the fire and fondling the oaken handle of the axe.  When C.R. had finally turned up, squeaking in his child-actor voice “Come on Pooh! Open Up!”, Pooh had answered the door normal as anything, talked about the weather, and then went to the cupboard and fetched the axe.  While C.R. had sat there, prattling on about what a silly bear Pooh was and how he had very little brain (which wound Pooh up no end) Pooh had raised the axe high and brought it down with a satisfying thud on Christopher Robin’s skull, cleaving it virtually in two, with just some muscle fibre in place to keep the pieces upright, and freezing C.R’s eyes wide in horror that Pooh, lovable Pooh, could do such a thing!  Pooh giggled a little and wiped some saliva from his mouth with a shaky paw.  Then Pooh, calm as anything, had mopped up the blood, washed the axe and begun to dig the hole.

Piglet had wondered why Pooh had not called for him that morning, to have his tea and biscuits, and so he decided to visit Pooh instead.  He admired the evening sun, blood red, and listened to the birds singing.  Pooh watched him get nearer and nearer, and plugged in the drill.

Piglet had no time to realise what had happened - the drill pierced his skull, sending a beautiful fountain of blood all over Pooh’s orange hide.  He rubbed the blood in and all over himself, licking, licking, always licking.  Then he pulled Piglet inside and put him in the cupboard.  The syringe lay on the sideboard, and Pooh picked it up, paws shaking and sweating, and filled it full of solution of the funny white powder that had been given to him by a strangely spaced-out Rabbit.  It was a strange effect at first, and Pooh thought he had seen many strange things, but then experienced a euphoric feeling of power.  It made him irritable, and C.R. and Piglet had everything that was coming to them, no doubt at all.  When night had fully fallen, Pooh dragged the bodies out and buried them in a makeshift grave.

“Adios, dear ‘friends’”, Pooh giggled, “things are going to change around the 100-acre wood now I’m in charge!” he laughed hysterically and went indoors.

The next day Tigger and Roo made their way happily to Pooh’s house, to see if he knew where C.R. and Piglet were, as no-one had seen them since yesterday.  They were sure Pooh would know, as he had had tea with Piglet yesterday and was meant to be playing Pooh-sticks with C.R. in the morning.

When they reached Pooh’s house the door was wide open and Pooh was nowhere to be seen.  Tigger and Roo looked inside Pooh’s house and noticed a large hole in Pooh’s floor and a notice was stuck on the wall with a large blob of congealing honey “OWT CHAGIG THE DRAGGN” (spelling had never been one of Pooh’s strong points).

“That’s odd”, though Tigger, “there are no dragons in the 100-acre wood - only heffalumps.  What is that silly bear up to now?”

Not even Tigger would have imagined what Pooh was up to at that moment.  That morning Pooh had woken with a splitting headache and a rather snotty nose.  So he had taken a large dose of the white powder and a little while later had a brilliant idea!  He left the house with a container marked insecticide in big red letters.  He took the container and went to Eeyore’s favourite patch of thistles.  “This will serve that manic depressive donkey right” laughed Pooh aloud, “always cheating at Pooh-sticks, cheats never prosper”, Pooh said to himself.

Then he hid behind a tree to watch the unsuspecting Eeyore eat himself to death - sheer poetic justice thought Pooh as he dumped the nearly dead body of Eeyore in the same grave as C.R. and Piglet.

“Shouldn’t cheat should you?” shouted Pooh as Eeyore’s eyes stared with disbelief.  “You’re lucky I didn’t chop you up into little bits and feed you to Tigger!” laughed Pooh manically, before he covered the makeshift grave over.

Pooh didn’t return to the house until dinner time as he was totally spaced out all morning.  So when he returned to his house he was in an awful mood and all he needed to make him absolutely mad was the sight of Tigger and Roo bouncing up and down outside his house singing “bouncy, bouncy, fun, fun, fun, fun, fun, the wonderful….”.
“‘Wonderful’?” thought Pooh aloud, “my foot, you’d think the writer of this shitty story could think up better lyrics for a song than that, and to think, they released the sound-track album on cassette and CD; a lot of people are going to get ripped off.”  This lightened Pooh’s mood somewhat, but the respite was brief.

“What was that you said?” asked Roo.

“God does he never stop asking pathetic questions?” Pooh thought furiously.  “I’m going to have to deal with these prats as well.  Is there no-one in this place with intelligence apart from me?” Pooh asked despairingly.

Pooh felt himself extremely lucky as Roo had to go home for his afternoon sleep and that left Tigger at his mercy.  Even better, Tigger suggested that himself and Pooh go and play Pooh-sticks;  Pooh had smiled slyly as an idea formed in his overactive brain, and agreed.  “What an opportunity,” Pooh whispered to himself as he followed the innocent Tigger to the bridge.

Once on the bridge, and the rather pointless game of Pooh-sticks was under way, Pooh thought he’d much rather push his stick up Tigger’s arse, rather than throwing it into the stream.  Tigger was leaning over the side of the bridge looking for his stick.  So he did not see Pooh’s wide horrific grin as he outstretched his arms and moved toward Tigger with the intent of pushing the stupid cat into the stream.  “Cats hate water, tee hee, he’ll drown.”

There was a loud splash as Tigger hit the water and started to struggle as his head was covered by water, he gulped and choked.  Pooh was holding on to the rail of the bridge and jumping up and down with excitement and was joyously shouting at the drowning Tigger.

“Why?” spluttered Tigger as he slowly started to turn blue with the cold, which Pooh found hysterical, after all a blue Tigger?  How absolutely silly.

“I’ll tell you why you bastard,” screamed Pooh, “it serves you right, hiding behind doors and jumping out, and scaring the shit out of people.”  Tigger did not hear Pooh’s answer as he was already floating downstream face down in the water, dead.  “Good riddance”, laughed Pooh, and looked at his watch.  “Still time to get that little dick-head Roo before he wakes up.”

Pooh sneaked to the sleeping form of Roo’s mum and saw Roo’s ear poking out of her pouch.  “Now I’ve got you, you little git,” Pooh thought, smiling, as he threaded a needle with extra strong cotton.  He was jolly grateful for Piglet’s sewing lessons now, because he would be able to sew up Roo nice and tightly, so he would not be able to get out and his mum would not be able to rescue him.  So very slowly and carefully Pooh began to sew Roo into his pouch and thereby suffocating the annoying idiotic twit.  After the deed was done Pooh made his way back to his house wondering how Roo’s mum would take the death of Roo.  Badly, hoped Pooh, as he began to cough uncontrollably and felt general nausea overcome him.

By the time Pooh got home he had puked up several times and was very desperate for some more of the white solution.  He trembled as he picked up the syringe and gave himself the remaining amount.  An awfully large amount, one might say, for a small little bear like Pooh.  In fact too much, Pooh died of an overdose, but he died with a smile on his face: he was dreaming that he was the only teddy bear made with a willy and dreamed how he surprised Eeyore one day - but that’s a story for another day.

THE END

—-

(no, I did not write this, I wish I had, and I want to buy the guy who did a few beers and a couple of shots.)

Is There A Santa Claus?

(I can’t believe I almost forgot to torture everyone with this…)

As a result of an overwhelming lack of requests, and with research help from that renown scientific journal SPY magazine (January 1990), I am pleased to present the annual scientific inquiry into Santa Claus.

(1) No known species of reindeer can fly. HOWEVER, there are 300,000 species of organisms yet to be classified, and most of these are insects and germs, this does not COMPLETELY rule out flying reindeer which only Santa has ever seen.

(2) There are two billion children (persons under 18) in the world. BUT since Santa doesn’t (appear) to handle the Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist and Jewish children, that reduces the workload to 15% of the total - 378 million according to the Population Reference Bureau. At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that is 91.8 million homes. One presumes that there is at least one good child in each.

(3) Santa has 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 822.6 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with good children, Santa has 1/1000th of a second to park, hop out of the sleigh, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left, get back up the chimney, back into the sleigh, and move on to the next house. Assuming that each of these 91.8 million stops are evenly distributed around the globe (which we of course know to be false but for the purposes of our calculations we will assume to be correct), we are now talking about .78 miles per household, a total trip of 75 and a half million miles, not counting stops to do what most of us must do at least once every 31 hours, plus feeding, etc.

This means that Santa’s sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second, three thousand times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle ever produced, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second, and a conventional reindeer can run, tops, 15 miles per hour.

(4) The payload on the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium-sized Lego set (two pounds), the sleigh is carrying 321,300 tons, not counting Santa, who is invariably described as overweight. On land, conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granted that “flying reindeer” (see point #1) can pull TEN TIMES the normal amount, we cannot do the job with eight, or even nine. We need 214,200 reindeer. This increases the payload - not even counting the weight of the sleigh - to 353,430 tons. Again, for comparison, this is four times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth.

(5) 353,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance - this will heat the reindeer in the same fashion as spacecraft re-entering the earth’s atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer will absorb 14.3 QUINTILLION joules of energy. Per second. Each. In short, they will burst into flames almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them, and creating a deafening sonic boom in their wake. The entire reindeer team will be vaporized within 4.26 thousandths of a second. Santa, meanwhile, will be subjected to centrifugal forces 17,500.06 times greater than gravity. A 250-pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of his sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force.

In conclusion: if Santa ever DID deliver presents on Christmas Eve, he’s dead now.

The @DrunkBastard Disclaimer

You must be over the age of 21 to continue onward due to graphic pictures, language, and references to alcohol and drugs (hence the name “DrunkBastard”), in addition to sexual content.  This account DEFINITELY isn’t for kids.  Of course, if you were really concerned about your child’s fragile little mind being warped by the internet, you wouldn’t even OWN A COMPUTER.  But that’s besides the point.  If you see anything here that offends you, click that little X in the top right corner of your browser and say an “Our Father.”

No names have been changed to protect the innocent, since God Almighty protects the innocent as a matter of Heavenly routine (yes, I just ripped off Kurt Vonnegut).  The opinions presented and disseminated within this account are fully those of DrunkBastard alone, and he could not give a half a fuck if you don’t like it.  The world’s not fair, kiddo, get used to it.  I honestly don’t give a rat’s hairy beanbag if you’re offended by anything I’ve written or said.  I’m not here to make people happy and gushy about their pathetic, pedantic, callow lives.  I tell the truth.  Don’t come here if you’re just looking for shit on someone I know.  This means the ex-girlfriends of my friends, mainly.  Get on with your damn lives, already, stop wallowing in the past.  And if you are someone I know and I write or say something you don’t particularly like, say, um, SOMETHING ABOUT YOU, well, you should stop and think for a minute that maybe, just MAYBE, I’m right.  And if you still think I’m wrong, well, reality is subjective.

This account is best viewed using Internet Explorer.  Unless you have Windows 7, Vista, XP, Me, 2000, NT, 98, 95, or 3.1, in which case it is better viewed (instead of using Internet Explorer) by placing your head into the toilet, shoving a phone plug up your ass, and taking a big, deep breath while singing “Deep In The Heart Of Texas” as loud as you can.  In Yiddish.  Hey, it’s better than shoving your head up Bill Gates’ ass, which is exactly what you do every time you go and use IE because it came with the computer and you’re too lazy to download Firefox or Chrome.  Here’s a tip, folks:  IE is a piece of shit.  For fuck’s sake, MICROSOFT made it.  Honestly, go download Chrome, I have it, you’ll love it.  Eschew the systematic.

Actually, this account is best viewed when you’re high or drunk off your ass, because at that point ANYTHING is funnier.

This account is maintained by some guy who needs a life and is protected by various provisions of Title 18 of the U.S. Code.  Violations of Title 18 are subject to criminal prosecution in a federal court.  And if anyone can tell me what Title 18 says, that would be great, because I’m too lazy to look it up.  This site is also protected by the Guacamole Act of 1917, The Mann Act, and Act III of Julius Caesar.

Submitted Content

Any content submitted via direct message shall become the property of DrunkBastard.  I also reserve the right to alter, modify, or simply fucking delete anything sent in.  Just because God gave you a keyboard and an internet connection doesn’t mean I really want any of the shit you decide to send.  I alone reserve the right to tweet, in any form, anything sent to me.  If you didn’t want it posted, you shouldn’t have sent it.  Conversely, if you send me something and I don’t reply, don’t mope like a fat kid who got turned down for a date for the dance Friday night.

Disclaimer of Liability

DrunkBastard does not promote, endorse, or advocate any of the actions, products, or other content contained herein.  Any attempt to use, make, create, or destroy anything is wholly the responsibility of the user and I’m in no way liable.  No, I’m serious.  Don’t fucking call me at 3 a.m. asking me, “Who’s responsible for me driving drunk?”  You are, you fucktard.

External Links – Some tweets may provide links to other Internet sites for the convenience of users. DrunkBastard is not responsible for the availability or content of these external sites, nor does DrunkBastard endorse, warrant, or guarantee the products, services, or information described or offered at these other Internet sites.  I don’t even want to endorse, warrant, or guarantee the shit here, you think I want to worry about what’s on other peoples’ plates?  Fuck them.  Users cannot assume that the external sites will abide by the same Privacy Policy to which DrunkBastard adheres.  You get forty penis enlargement e-mails tomorrow, ain’t my fault.

If any person, regardless of race, creed, color, national origin, sexual orientation, religious affiliation, or whatever, finds any tweet, part thereof, or sentence / sentence fragment thereof thereof in any way offensive, slanderous, or malicious, please feel free to go somewhere else.  As in, go fuck yourself.  I mean, there are only 100 million accounts out there, go follow someone else.  I personally don’t have a problem with anyone based solely on their outward appearance, what deity they worship, or what they do with their genitalia in the privacy of their own home with a (or several) consenting adult(s).  It’s all just a fucking joke.  Yeah, you don’t like it when the joke’s on you, too fucking bad, you can laugh at everyone else, but when the camera’s on you, you get offended?  You’re all gonna end up dead sooner or later anyway, and that’s the biggest joke of all.  Stop being so offended by every little thing that touches upon your pathetically fragile and easily-bruised ego and go have a drink.  It’s you kind of fuckers that have made the world the shithole that it is in the first place.  Stop being so serious about everything, you’re not that fucking important, you represent one six-billionth of the world’s opinion.  Sometimes I wish there really was a Total Perspective Vortex.  Where can I find a piece of fairy cake?  (And anyone that can e-mail me and tell me where that’s from, I will be really impressed.  Doing a Google search on “Total Perspective Vortex” is cheating, and cheaters go to hell and burn burn BURN!!!  So keep that in mind.)

Well, THAT was lovely, wasn’t it?  For those of you that are still reading, well, thanks for having a sense of humor.

mybonemalone:

reading the same newspaper for 20 years

(Source: jonnovstheinternet, via ethegoddess)

So who wants to hear Rush Limbaugh pimp my website? OK, it was 2004 or 2005, and he just rambles about it for a second, but I just found this and thought I’d torture you with this fat fuck.

ethegoddess:

Word.

ethegoddess:

Word.

(via ethegoddess)

ethegoddess:

I’m a genius! Uh.. I mean, my Adidas. (Taken with Instagram)

Fucking. Awesome.

ethegoddess:

I’m a genius! Uh.. I mean, my Adidas. (Taken with Instagram)

Fucking. Awesome.

(via ethegoddess)

How I’m spending my Monday. Vodka not included. (Taken with Instagram)