Tag Archives: drunk writing

Thoughts From a Drunk Girl…Ok, Woman…Pt. 3

2 Mar

I’m kinda tired, but here are some thoughts I’m thinking! And I’m drinking! Yay!

  • LOL. SAME:

Screenshot_2016

  • Alfonso Ribiero is, like, my Captain Planet power thing. Imagine we all put in our rings and it’s like, “Earth! Fire! Wind! Alfonso Ribiero!” and Captain Planet shows up and does the Carlton dance. Ha. I’d like that.

  • My friend Stacey and I were talking and she sent a pic of herself to be like “hi, friend.” I went to send a reply pic and realized I am an exhausted, unshowered woman in big earphones and a giant pink sports bra. This is kind of a regular thing. How men have ever governed their boners around me remains a legitimate question.

  • “Sorry I got angry and farted on your cat” is not something I want to ever have to say to another human. Again. I never want to have to say it again.

  • I went to Mardi Gras and saw some things I want to see again and saw some things I will never unsee. Weird boobs, for example. Below is a poem I just wrote about it.

While you stroll in New Orleans
you ought to go see the Mardi Gras
cause you’ll see some weird boobs–
go there to see some if you want.
Go eat po’ boys
and drink giant daiquiris,
which are just subs
and slushies with alcohol.
I ended up getting many ice headaches,
but hey, it was fun,
because I saw some weird boobs
and a guy showed me his Zulu King
(that’s code for wiener).

  • Life–is it not so strange? So sublime? Have you ever had one of those abracadabra awestruck moments when everything seems to fit together and you fill up with pure, loving emotion? Me too. We’re all connected.

I’m sorry, I have no idea where this one came from. Move along, folks. Nothing to see here.

  • Recently I saw a puppy bark at a gust of wind and it was adorable. This is my new hobby, and I would like for this new hobby, to which I am unwaveringly devoted, to blossom into a rewarding career. “What do you do for a living?” they’ll ask. “Oh, me? I observe the shit out of cute puppies. I’m so grateful and so blessed, you know. Puppy observation is a competitive field and I worked hard to get to my position as the Director-General of Observing Puppies.”

  • I’m sorry I haven’t been writing…and thank you to everyone who annoys me about it until I finally write again. I had a recent burst of creativity and more will come soon, and some of it wasn’t even written under the influence! GOODNIGHT GUYS!

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Thoughts From a Drunk Girl…Ok, Woman…Pt. 2

21 Oct

Have there really only been two of these? Probably not, but who am I to question my drunk titles? I have some things to say because these are the things I’m thinking:

  1. When did I become a woman? God, that’s weird.
  2. There’s a mouse in my kitchen right now. I don’t want to have to go back in because I don’t want to make eye contact with him because then I’ll have to keep him and name him something lame because that’s what I do. Oh god, I’m out of wine….Stilwell! His name shall be Stilwell.
  3. I don’t write as much anymore because my entire life has changed and I barely identify with and have time for that side of me. Weird, right? I miss this part of me the most. It will be back. I swear to god. Oh wait, here it is.
  4. I still like farts even though I’m 31, but I will say they are most appreciated when comedically timed and not happening in front of a fan.
  5. Everyone has said I would want kids someday. They weren’t wrong. Thanks, aging and maternal instincts or body clock, or whatever. We’re all getting older and we all are going to die someday. Deal with it. Sorry about that.
  6. I actually enjoy giving candy to kids on Halloween now. I used to be so cynical about that before. I even like dressing as a Disney princess to make them happy. WHAT!?
  7. Getting older also means being an adult about other things–like facing the past. Fuck you past, you don’t know me. I mean, thanks for making me the me I am now, or whatever, but otherwise? Go away.
  8. Wait, back to being a mom. I think I would do the weirdest stuff. I would google, like, “how to mom.” Many years from now, my son will find this blog and be like “WHAT THE HELL, MOM?” and I’ll shrug and be like:
  9. 1017152306b_HDR

 

  1.  Also, what should his name be? Stilwell? Also, yaaaa I don’t know why the list just restarted. Just ignore it. Like I said, I’m drunk.
  2. Stilwell. God, that’s such a terrible name. All I can think of is that dick kid from “A League of Their Own.” Remember that? If anyone wants to drink wine with me and cry themselves into a wine coma with me while watching that movie, I’m available on most nights. I prefer a Friday night though because my face gets all puffy when I cry now though because I’m 90.
  3. His name….his name….something classic.
  4. What am I talking about?
  5. You know what I love? Candy. Fucking candy is so good.
  6. Not actually fucking the candy though, that’s weird. I guess properly it would be, “Candy is so fucking good.”  Anyway.
  7. Guys? I’m drunk. Drunk skunk. Lol that sounds like Russian Rocky and Bullwinkle lady. “Drunk like skunk.”
  8. I DONT KNOW WHY THIS NUMBERED LIST RESTARTED IN NUMBERS. I WASN’T DONE.

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The Gospel According to Sexy Halloween Jesus

12 Sep

I haven’t been wanting to write recently, but apparently I tried to give it a go after my friend Dina’s birthday luau the other night. I was rereading it this morning and it seems that things quickly escalated from this:

 

luau

 

to this:

 

I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO WRITE. Hi. HI. Hey. The way the light is hitting my floor right now I can see a stinky dog’s footprints. That stinky sneak. I went to a luau tonight, but was still hung over from Jaime’s birthday party last night:

 

novacations

 

I made that my profile picture on Facebook, by the way, and someone commented on it to say she preferred the profile picture I had before because I looked stunning in it, but not so stunning in the one above.

This was the previous photo:

 

lamosc

 

So on the newer, goofy profile picture she commented, “There are NO VACATIONS from beauty.”

Yeesh, tough crowd. I don’t mean to make things awkward for that lady, but the guy at the party who took the picture said it was perfect and that I looked like “Sexy Halloween Jesus,” and that sounds to me like one of the highest and holiest of praises, like, ever.

Then he kneeled before me and I spaketh, “My many blessings are upon you and you may now rise, Sir Guy I Don’t Know.” (It sounds like I was knighting him, I know, but I wasn’t–that’s just how Sexy Halloween Jesus rolls.)

It was at that moment that my new apostle ascended up, up from his knees and into the kitchen to get another drink. I then had a shot of RumChata and it was a delight.

So, anyway, what I think that Facebook lady needs to do is shut her lady mouth, say a Halloween rosary and accept Sexy Halloween Jesus into her life, especially because Sexy Halloween Jesus is not as forgiving as regular Jesus.

Okay, well, it’s time for bed. Goodnight all, and don’t forget that I’ll be watching over you. I’m creeping right behind you, breathing on your little neck hairs because that’s what Sexy Halloween Jesus does after she has had too many grapefruit crushes. Those are really yummy, by the way…probably my new favorite drink.

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Drunk Girl Writing

7 Sep

Andrew of Shut Up Dad inspired me to try drunk writing. So, here I am. I was hoping there would be a masterpiece in my brain by now, but I’ve got nothing and now I’m just a little wasted and feeling a whole lotta freaky. Thanks, Andrew.

I have decided to take this opportunity to have a little chat with the menfolk. Ladies, this is where your reading ends for today. Sorry. Here, watch this video of cute baby animals whilst the men and I continue:

 

 

Gentlemen,

Come, gather ’round.  HEY, Le Clown, eyes up here.

Don’t worry, I shall present my thoughts and queries in list form for ye who supposedly sport a short attention span. Right, let’s dive in.

1. Just because I’m kind of a dude, it does not mean I want to hear about your balls. Don’t tell me stories about them unless you have a medical problem and need to vent. Otherwise, I’m serious. Stop with the ball chatter.

2. Unless there has been a sexual agreement, don’t ask me or your possible future second (or third) wife on a first date to your house. Bitches, please. Show some respect and at least take us out so we can get our drank on.

3. Our nipples will remain attached to our bodies, just like yours, so please stop trying to suck them off. Also, please don’t turn them like knobs. I am not a door. There is no Narnia inside this closet.

4. Don’t fart when we’re in the shower together. Are you people kidding me with that? I think farts are awesome and all, but H2O (as water vapor) easily attaches to methane molecules by the chlorine atom, or the sulfur released from bacteria, making your butt smell attach more easily to my nostrils and subsequently sustaining that foulness for a longer period than when we are, say, in the car. Enjoy your brand on your own shower time, fellas.

5. FYI: Most of us prefer your medium-sized weens to the giant weens. Promise.

6. Would a blowjob be positively enhanced if I switched between coldish and very warmish liquids? Just curious.

7. Thank you for all of your kind words and funny comments over the past few months. My entire workplace must think I’m insane as I boisterously laugh at your wit and questionable humor.

8. Regarding the art of manscaping, you all seem to be doing well with that. We approve.

9. Please go do something nice for your lady if you have one. You owe her for farting in the shower.

10. Thank you for joining El Jimador and I for this chat. Good talk. Time to pass out.

Love,

Lauren Ann (I included my middle name, that’s how you know I mean business).

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