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- meltdown
You're at a liquor store tryin' to choose a nice bottle to bring to Frood's wine and cheese party. Too many of them to choose from, so you look around for an employee to recommend a secret gem that you're willing to pay for instead of arriving empty-handed like that one loser who shows up drunk. Tisk.
Now, y'all've probably seen parts of Intervention episodes that made you think about an old friend you don't talk to any more, or a relative whose invitations to family get-togethers always seem to get lost in the mail. Whose late-night texts are luckily unreadable. The only sucker you wouldn't call to help you move because you have nice things that don't need to be banged against walls, doorways, or sent crashing down stairs.
Any goddamn way, we've got one right here, right now, who exemplifies the aforementioned ruined drunks who need to be sent to Ukraine to teach the locals there how to cheaply cope with their unfathomable despair now that their neighbor's vulnerable children are either dead or gone. So with no further adieu, here the unashamed alcoholic is:
Bastard Factory
The good news is that he can't hold three drinks at the same time any longer because his hands now shake more violently than the day he staggered away from an unsolved hit-n-run, according to the local news. Does he drink even more now because of the car he wrecked (his), or society's never-ending inconvenience of always getting in his fucking way?
"Pick one."
Tell me, BF - why didn't you test drive that tiny plastic car you bought off ebay? Does it fuck your hairdo up every morning on your daily drive to another bar? You're probably at one now, smoking outside, looking for a passed-out drunk in the alley holding a bottle of wine you'll finally surprise Frood with after reading someone's PM, spreading secret invitations to his next hat/wine & cheese party (don't ask). Try not to chug it first before refilling it with water to pass it off as a new Merlot...
SSS
- *finishes another Earthquake*
Now, y'all've probably seen parts of Intervention episodes that made you think about an old friend you don't talk to any more, or a relative whose invitations to family get-togethers always seem to get lost in the mail. Whose late-night texts are luckily unreadable. The only sucker you wouldn't call to help you move because you have nice things that don't need to be banged against walls, doorways, or sent crashing down stairs.
Any goddamn way, we've got one right here, right now, who exemplifies the aforementioned ruined drunks who need to be sent to Ukraine to teach the locals there how to cheaply cope with their unfathomable despair now that their neighbor's vulnerable children are either dead or gone. So with no further adieu, here the unashamed alcoholic is:
Bastard Factory
The good news is that he can't hold three drinks at the same time any longer because his hands now shake more violently than the day he staggered away from an unsolved hit-n-run, according to the local news. Does he drink even more now because of the car he wrecked (his), or society's never-ending inconvenience of always getting in his fucking way?
"Pick one."
Tell me, BF - why didn't you test drive that tiny plastic car you bought off ebay? Does it fuck your hairdo up every morning on your daily drive to another bar? You're probably at one now, smoking outside, looking for a passed-out drunk in the alley holding a bottle of wine you'll finally surprise Frood with after reading someone's PM, spreading secret invitations to his next hat/wine & cheese party (don't ask). Try not to chug it first before refilling it with water to pass it off as a new Merlot...
SSS
- *finishes another Earthquake*
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