Tags: alcohol, bicycle theft, bikes, jerking off on ants, sex, stolen bikes
Tag Archives: alcohol
Drunk Thoughts on Syria
28 Aug
Last night I consumed a pint of Christian Brothers® brandy from Royale Junior Liquor Market and sat down to determine my position on U.S. Intervention in Syria. This was not inspired by Drunk History:
I kept thinking about a guy peeling potatoes.
Originally I pictured him in one of Assad’s palaces. I heard on NPR, an expert speculating. Maybe the US would bomb the palaces to send a personal message to Assad. So I thought of a guy who works in the kitchen there. You think they let them leave when they’re going to get bombed? I’m sure there are guards standing around with AK’s, making sure the staff stays put. I kept thinking about this guy. He has a kid maybe, a girl. He was having issues with his wife, some pain in the ass in his day. But good things happened, too. His daughter did something cute, brought home a picture from school. He was employed. Lucky to be. And what other jobs are out there. You get a job for the king, you gotta take it. So he’s peeling potatoes in the kitchen. Everyone is nervous. They heard the Americans are going to bomb the country. Scared chatter. Someone makes a joke. The dark mood is broken. Then they’re all vaporized in fire. Skin blistered off, organs boiled inside their bodies. His daughter hearing the news. Continue reading
Weekend Journal 5-5-13: House of Spirits
5 May
Image stolen from Flickr user avalon_music
I need to stop drinking and I can’t. I get drunk every night, usually alone. Most nights it’s pretty harmless; I just play Xbox. Last night I walked down to the Cinco de Mayo DUI checkpoint on Sunset and started loudly fucking with cops. Eventually they circled up around me like a wall of beatdown and told me they were gonna book me for public intoxication. At the time I had courage, I was screaming a bunch of slogans I heard in youtube videos about Constitutional rights and am I being detained. In reality I was a loud asshole fucking with people trying to do their jobs, and was in fact publicly intoxicated, and probably in danger of running into traffic. Still. I did get one guy to not say shit and not blow into the breathalyzer and I got his wife to call a lawyer instead. He got a ticket, not a DUI, and they let him go. I saved him ten grand. Probably half of what he makes in a year. He will probably kill a child driving drunk now. Continue reading
Get Off My Lawn
22 MarHad a run in with some kids in the park. High school kids. One of them looked like he wanted to beat my ass. Talked like it too. They were getting hammered on the hill, it’s Easter break, and a couple of them were holding up their buddy who couldn’t walk. Just look at the path homie. Just look at the floor. The big guy, the oldest guy, glared at me and was like hey, what’s up homie. Something something nosy people get it too. What the fuck was he talking about. I wanted to understand and say the right thing so I could look “cool” to these hardass EXP gangsta teens. But, all I could say was, what?
Something something, you gonna piss people off, staring like that. Oh Jesus. I don’t give a fuck how drunk he is, I’m sure he could kick my ass, and there are fifteen of him all wearing the same color.
Oh, dude, I was just ah, your friend seems a little fucked up.
Whatchoo readin’?
I was reading Charles Bukowski. A collection called Septuagenarian Stew. In the future, everyone give your books simple fucking names. Give your sons simple fucking names, so I can say “Darkness by John Jones.” Septuagenarian Stew by motherfucking Charles Bukowski. Thank God I wasn’t listening to a Fiona Apple record. Continue reading
Tag Team Reader Mailbag: Getting Young Girls Drunk
25 Jan
“Juan Stabone” writes:
As a non-drinker, I encountered an absolutely galling situation twice in a period of three months: The girl is over my place, and everything’s going great. In one case I even have her tits out. Then she communicates essentially that she’s down with getting laid, but she can’t fuck me because she doesn’t have any booze in her/is not comfortable enough. Of course, all is lost after that.
fffffffffuuuuuuuu
They were both banging, banging hot. Not like the animals you (Delicioustacos) seem to have relations with. Months later, not a day has passed wherein I do not deeply regret both occasions. I have developed a minor case of PTSD.
So anyway, what kind of alcohol do I buy to get young girls drunk at my place? I assume there is some sort of fruity wine thing I can put in a sippy cup for them, but I just don’t know anything about booze.
Nikol says: Continue reading
Weekend Journal 1-13-13: Piss All Over
13 JanI punched Astrid in the back of the head, and she pissed on me. Her skull made a sound like a coconut. I forget what we were fighting about. We were drunk, obviously. She had had a party. I drank two bottles of Andre® Extra Dry Sparkling California Wine from the sale rack at CVS and probably a bunch of other shit. God only knows what she put down; she drinks like an Irish coal miner. I was wrestling with her and kind of getting on top of her and squashing her; she likes that kind of shit because she was molested. Then I popped her one. You need to understand that this isn’t some shit where she cries and calls the police; she likes to get hit. I like hitting her. Thanks, child sex predators.
Original artwork by yours truly, in Astrid’s room.
Business Review: Royale Junior Liquor Market, Echo Park
28 Aug
Image stolen from Flickr user “OrangeCounty_Girl”
(Originally posted on Yelp.)
I must say I like the lack of personal interest the clerk at the Royale Junior Liquor Market has in my purchasing habits. I mean, he may not even notice– he’s working at the type of place where he’s in front of a giant wall of Old Crow pint bottles and novelty skull and pistol shaped fifths of tequila, behind three quarters of an inch of GE® Lexan™ bulletproof plexiglass. He faces a large shelf of pornographic DVD’s specifically tailored to the prurient interests of working-class Mexicans, whose bright eye-catching covers leave nothing to the imagination. Shit is distracting. He has more things to worry about than my weird unnecessarily frequent and expensive daily purchases of small bottles of alcohol. He has to stock nine different kinds of non FDA-approved herbal pill packets designed to enlarge your penis, give you bigger and more meaningful erections, enhance your sexual desire until is as that of el tigre. He has to eyeball stumbling drunk day laborers as they come dangerously close to shoplifting a Payday; ward off these miscreants with merely the shaming power of his gaze. He has to vigilantly head off customers steering toward the inoperable ATM machine in front– he clearly prides himself on sparing them a useless button push and confounded few seconds of bewilderment– “Hey! Is not working.” The ATM is never working, but the giant glowing sign telling the public that the store has an ATM is always working. Continue reading
New Book
delicioustacos 