4:24 p.m. - 2004-07-19
Bedknobs and Broomsticks
A bottle of Jack Daniel's is 750 ML.....You know, the square-shaped bottle that you usually see.
Sort of like the bottle depicted on my Whiskey For Kids merchandise, which has been legally modified to NOT look like an actual Jack Daniel's bottle.
My flask is 7 oz.
I carry it on me when I walk around the Strip, here in Vegas. I drink it as I play roulette.
So, I used an "ounce to mililiter" conversion chart that I found on the internet.
I found out that 750 ML = 25.37 oz.
So, a big bottle of Jack holds about 3 1/2 flasks.
And, many weekends, including last Friday night, I drink the entire contents of my flask single-handedly. Sometimes mixing it with sodey-pop......and sometimes just drinking it straight.
It never seems like much at the time. It never seems to affect me much.
Now I know that I'm actually drinking 1/3 of a bottle of Jack evertyime I down the contents of my flask.
Sweet!
See, who says my diary doesn't teach kids stuff?!
Boy oh boy, my body must sure have adapted to that whiskey.
When I drink a flask full of Jack nowadays, I just barely get "buzzed".....I rarely get sick or anything.
I remember back when I started drinking whiskey, I vomited blood almost every week.
I miss those days.
In case any of you are wondering what happened to my tales of drunken antics that used to be an essential staple of my diary. If you notice, I haven't written about a wacky drunken adventure of mine in almost a year.
I need to start mixing it up. I need to start drinking new shit. Stuff that my body hasn't adapted to yet.
Wine does the trick still.
I've been known to defecate on myself while drunk off wine. And trash my own apartment.
Maybe I'll abandon the whiskey and become a serious wine drinker.
I'll change the name of my charitable organization to the Wine For Kids Foundation.
I'll change my little drawing to a 7 yr. old boy drinking Merlot out of a fashionable crystal chalice.
I'll make sure I draw him with his pinky extended.
Gaywad.
Wine gets me drunk alright, I just wish it was a little tougher. Then I'd drink it with pride.
I feel like Doc Holliday and Billy the Kid and Johnny Appleseed, and all of those other cowboy heroes of mine when I drink whiskey. Even though its effects on my body, and my brain, have grown minimal.
I just can't imagine walking around with a flask of wine, selling Wine For Kids merchandise, and all that jazz.
I'd need to buy a tuxedo, if I did that.
I'd have to say stuff like "jolly good" and "cheery-o" and gaylord shit like that.
It's true that wine would totally inebriate me.....I'm sure if I downed a bottle of wine next weekend, I would consequently be arrested for throwing my own feces at passing cars while masturbating on the side of the freeway.
Whenever I drink wine, it still makes me act goofy. It still gets me "drunk".......I lose control of my senses and my thoughts.
For instance, every time I drink wine, I always think about how the average doorknob is at the same height as my anus. I always think about how God must've done that for a reason. It's not long before the wine tells my brain that it would be a brilliant idea to wander around my neighborhood at 3am, going from house to house, to test God's plan.....bending over in front of people's front doors, with my pants off, and slowly trying to back up towards the door in such a way that their doorknob inserts itself into my rectum.
Even if they noticed feces on their front doorknob the following morning, they would just assume that a prankster kid had stepped in dog poo and then rubbed the mutt's feces off of his shoe and on to their doorknob.
Certainly they would never suspect that a grown man's anus had been wrapped around their doorknob in the middle of the night.
Anyways, drinking wine makes me want to do stuff like that.
As gay as wine is.
Jesus Christ.....Out of nowhere, just now, my boss just appeared behind me and scared the bejeezus out of me. She just popped up about 1 foot behind me, asking me if I had an extra ethernet cable she could use, as I was typing the doorknob bit. I am at work typing this, you see.
It is unclear at this point how long she had been standing directly behind me.
Possibly reading the doorknob part over my shoulder as I typed.
Sweet!
Speaking of people scaring the bejeezus out of me, fat people at bus stops have been nearly giving me heart attacks lately.
Recently I wrote about a fat black lady who practically gave me heart palpitations when I thought I saw her chewing her own hand off.
Just today, on my lunch break, I almost went into cardiac arrest once again, at the sight of another frightening fat lady at a bus stop.
She was gargantuan in size, and pale to boot. She looked like a cross between Gilbert Grape's mom and Powder.
Anyways, I saw her, and about had a stroke when I saw what I thought she was doing.
It turned out not to be a big deal. It turned out that all she was doing was singing to herself.
I was just a little startled at first when I saw her mouth opening and closing randomly.....I couldn't hear her, so, of course, I didn't realize what she was doing.
It wasn't until my second glance, when I noticed a Walkman in her lap, and headphones on her ears, that I figured out she was singing to herself.
But, at first, with her mouth opening and closing like that, and no visible food going into her mouth, it looked like she was trying to eat the entire universe, starting with the air.....
I half expected her to come flying towards me, chomping away at the air like Ms. Pac Man.
And with her body being as perfectly fat and round as it was, she very well could have been Ms. Pac Man in disguise, I was thinking.
You can imagine then why I just about had a heart attack when I thought to myself, "What if she thinks I'm Blinky, and she tries to eat me? Or Clyde? Or one of those other ghosts!"
Turns out she was just singing to herself, but, boy, did she have my heart racing.
Anyways, I would've killed her.....if she had tried to eat me.
Well, you know, unless she had just eaten one of them big dots that makes her invincible......
But, otherwise, I would've killed her.
