drunk

Feast Your Stomach’s Eyes Upon The Latest Doritos Abomination: “Doritos Loaded”!

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Oh sweet, sweet 7-11; so much more than day old spinning burgundy hot dogs and your delicious signature Slurpee. Now you have joined forces with other food insanity pioneer Doritos to unleash a new level of intestinal hell. Coming to a regretful stomach near you, behold: Doritos Loaded.

Originally poster on Your Daily Media

If you’re anything like me, you sit alone in your underwear, covered in processed cheese dust, calling out to a God who has long forgotten his mistake of creating you, “Is there anything you can’t swaddle in Dorito to more deliciously clog the hole in my soul?” And while God invariably ignores these pleas, junk food technologists are hard at work, making sure that, with each passing that day, the answer to that most-dire-of-questions is increasingly: “Eh. Maybe this?”

It is with that in mind that I introduce you to your newest drunken late night decision: the Doritos Loaded.

“I am diabetes, the destroyer of pancreases.”

No, what you’re looking at isn’t the fever dream of your booze-soaked liver, magically willed into existence. What you have here is a wad of nacho cheese, lovingly caressed by a Doritos crumble blanket, sprinkled with the kisses of cheese fairies and placed gently into the warming trays of three select Washington D.C. 7-Elevens. The result is very much like a mozzarella stick, only bat shit crazy.

“That’s not true! THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE!”

Doritos Loaded is reportedly “a product that is in test,” according to an unnamed 7-Eleven representative. Then heard in the background of the phone call was the unmistakable clanking of gears, no doubt raising a platform high above a laboratory toward a stormy sky. The distinct noise of the dragging club-foot of the 7-Eleven representative’s trusty lab assistant across a cold slab floor could be heard as it made its way to a switch mounted on the wall. It was “too soon to really talk about it,” the representative continued as the platform locked into position with a loud metallic clunk, followed not long after by a crash of thunder and the mad cackling of the anonymous 7-Eleven representative.

As the phone clattered to the ground, the muffled shouts, proclaiming his creation to be “ALIVE” could be made out over the buzzing of electrical current and the low, wheezing chuckles of the hunch backed assistant. They had no further comments.

via: Your Daily Media

Amy Winehouse: Sobered to Death!

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What is the only thing more dangerous than washing down a quart of vodka with a gallon of gin? NOT doing that exact thing.

Fully topped off with "Star Fuel" and ready to rock it out!
Fully topped off with "Star Fuel" and ready to rock it out!

Amy Winehouse, VOICE of a TENTH of a generation and general pile of human mess, did not die as a result of the excesses of a lifestyle that made her biggest hit so ironic and adorable. She was MURDERED by SOBRIETY! CAPITAL LETTERS EXCLAMATION POINT!

According to “family sources” the shock to her body of not being pickled in delicious alcoholic beverages was just too much for it to bear, and after sucking every possible drop of life giving booze from every tissue in what was left of her musculature, her addled frame simply seized, unable to handle being separated from the only form of liquid inside it and tragically took the life of our precious, precious flower. To try to give you an example of what to compare this to, just imagine a car without oil, a Hybrid without hippie urine, or a Sheen not filled with Tigers,

You see, the family is saying that despite reports of Amy indulging in a 72 hour drink-a-thon prior to her “surprising” death, that the real reason for her demise is that she’s a stupid fuck. Their words, not mine. See she was supposedly instructed to gradually decrease her alcohol intake from “Norse Myth” levels to “Roman Orgy” levels and so on down the drunken scale, to carefully reduce the levels of fun in her body. And the woman that said “No, no, no.” to previous offers of assistance (according to FAMILY MEMBERS) told medical professionals that it’s all of nothing. She either never stops drinking or she never stops never drinking. And her family’s well reasoned hypothesis is that the sudden halt of personality swallows was too much of a shock to a self ravaged system.

And really, their “logic” is hard to argue. Alcohol is, after all, one of the essential building blocks of life. The human celebrity is composed of 62% alcohol, with the remaining 38% comprised of mainly amphetamines, opiates, cannabis and an over inflated sense of self worth and misguided feeling of invincibility. Exact amounts vary on a case by case basis. So asking a celebriwreck to abstain from alcoholic consumption, is tantamount to telling the Earth to go fuck it’s oceans. And then where would this fine planet of ours be? A shriveled, brown, husk of it’s former glory. Just like Amy Winehouse.

Satellite photograph of Mrs. Winehouse hours before her time of death...
Satellite photograph of Mrs. Winehouse hours before her time of death...

Now again, just to be perfectly clear, that’s not ME saying that; that’s “family sources”. I would never say such things, because I’m mostly not a lunatic. But I’m also not an alcohol doctor, so I don’t know, it may be entirely possible that suddenly stopping killing yourself could kill yourself. I’m not qualified to say one way or the other. The same way I’m not qualified to say that Amy Winehouse was a liquor fueled zombie who cruelly had her life source yanked away from her by “professionals” and “people who cared for her well being”, causing her to dry up like a neglected tin man, before falling over, shattering into a cloud of crusty, dehydrated slivers and being blown away on the breeze like a Spider-Man villain. That’s not for me to say, that’s for HER OWN FAMILY (according to a “source”) to say, which they have, in not so many words…

So what have we learned then from this brave, flimsy song drinker? Hmm? Well, we’ve learned that if you have flushed your system of all vital fluids and replaced them with 300 proof drinky fun times, apparently it’s better to quit gradually, allowing your body the opportunity to replenish your juices as the fermented happy liquids fighting the endless struggle of keeping you upright while simultaneously trying to knock you down, are being drained.

Secondly, if you have a family who in interview after interview kept telling who ever would ask them “It’s not a matter of if she’s going to die young and tragically, but when. If only there were something that I could do, because I apparently care ever so much, but alas, there isn’t.” and you expect them to have any sort of rational reaction to the “sudden” and “unexpected” news of their relative passing, then you’re going to wind up with them blaming not being shot with bullets as the most likely cause of sudden acute deadness.

And third, and I think most importantly: as long as you keep drinking, you will never die. So pour me another glass of immortality juice and let’s party like if we ever stop it’ll kill us!