drinking

Another week's almost in the books, and another round of Spring Breaks are about to take the otherwise non beer-soaked beaches of the world by storm, as college kids drown their livers in a sea of distilled oblivion while they effortlessly commit stupid mistakes that hopefully go viral...if we're lucky. These confessions from self-proclaimed boozehounds are just what we need to get in the spirit for hoisting the next glass, or just never drinking again and living a life of sweet sober serenity. 

St. Paddy's day has come and gone, and if social media outlets are any indication; the notorious booze-soaked holiday left many 'a fragile, bleary-eyed violently hungover sweet summer child in its wake. As you prepare yourself to do absolutely nothing with a hearty side of greasy grub, Netflix, and active self-loathing; maybe take comfort in the fact that others out there are struggling even worse than your tired, beaten down soul. 

Remember when the ice luge was one of the most exciting innovations to strike the party scenes where we were all trying to get drunk in new ways as fast as possible? Yeah. Those were the (cleaner) days. Some frat king or blacked out boozehound managed to inspire a new movement recently though: chugging anything within sight through a willing lady's cleavage and/or ass crack. Yep. Had to double take that one myself. You'll have to see these videos to believe it. Does bring to mind though: have you really lived until you've guzzled beer through a pair of boobs?

Ah, St. Paddy's Day has finally rolled into booze-ridden, dizzied view yet again. The boozehounds have finally found a decent enough excuse to carpe that diem. Bars near and far offer up questionably generous drinking specials that almost always seem to result in someone (maybe you) stuffing your face full of grease-soaked food with ferocious intensity, after going one too many rounds with that good 'ol pal named Jameson. 

The end time is near. Bars near and far have likely already been flooded with red-eyed, whiskey-breathed, stumblin and mumblin chain-smoking gentry that couldn't wait the extra couple days to drown their livers in a distilled sea of Jameson and whatever other shots will surely be on special for St. Paddy's Day. Or those fair and fine fiends never left after last call...Anyways.Gear up for what should be a highly entertaining, booze-soaked occasion, if not an epic start to a blur of a weekend bender with 10 fine displays of people drinking themselves silly. 

It's just about that time of the year again, dudes; yes, Spring Break. A time entrenched in sweet booze-soaked madness, and often given over to the questionably spontaneous, hedonistic whims of college students with nothing better to do with their time than let loose battle cries while chugging out the nearest handle in sight, amidst an endless procession of shotgunning beers; and maybe, just maybe even lighting up a few heaters. It would seem these awesomely wild times have a tendency to take place south of the border as well. 

Like a fine wine, some people just get better with age. Consider the grandma at hand, as a prime example; she's down south of the sun-drenched border aggressively knocking back shots (or just like, half the bottle) with a bunch of sorority girls that are just beginning to set sail on the epic, booze-soaked journey that the Spring Break of 2017 will surely prove to be. You've given the younger, less experienced alcoholics a lot to strive for Grams. 

I can almost hear the booze-charged, blind drunk yells of the nearest frat house down the road, as the metallic clang of fresh-emptied kegs wipe clean the peace of an otherwise typical Thursday morning/afternoon/evening. The frat though, you know the one that always managed to clear out the nearest convenience store of all the light and cheap beers, cause drinking to excess 24/7 ain't an easy thing to budget? Yeah, well these fine displays of alcohol-induced (and/or whatever else was in their system at the time of full-on mindlessness) fail will either inspire you to turn it up to 11 this Thirsty Thursday, or just, never drink again.

Hayley Minn was on the receiving end of a madly thirsty samaritan who got it in his head to expose soul and lusty goals in a particularly illustrative letter. 

Ah Friday has rolled around yet again. Another week just about in the books. We sit on the cliff of dwindling work constraints, and stare out at the infinite possibilities of the weekend. I can almost taste that shit. The burn of a shot forced upon you by a friend supercharged on liquid courage. The steady mounting bar tab. The stressful ritual of approaching someone who might've made eye contact with you, or not at all, every now and again. Cheers ya filthy animals, happy Friday.