One Hot Disaster.... It's Been Too Long.

FLASH IS BACK.

I recently read back through the OHD blog and couldn't stop laughing and I realized that it would be a true tragedy to let this blog die away, especially when our lives are no less What-The-Fuck-Tastic than they've always been. If anything, mine has only gotten more so as I've come to realize that impractical drinking is not what is responsible for my hilarious shit show of a life, its just the way I am. Great. So, I'm writing now to bring our readers back and I hope that Miss Mount Vernon and Rio will be close behind me.

Lets talk about New Years Eve. As many of you know, I have quite a fantastic track record of performances on NYE assisted in part by SoCo/Lime shots, hot tubs and men named after fish (or Florida baseball teams). This year, I set off for NYE assuming that it would be comparatively tame to those in the past and resigning myself to a life of being a grown up. Fate disagreed and I once again found myself in strange circumstances.

After several hours of imbibing in quality plastic 2 liter bottle beer, friends and I hit the open air town plaza at about 11:45 to ring in the New Year. I no longer live in the United States, but rather in a country whose laws sometimes are a little more dangerously lax or unenforced which was strikingly apparent as we entered the square. A slew of 14-15 year old boys were running wildly through this plaza throwing lit Roman Candles into the air, at people, onto the ground, wherever. One of my friends served as a croc spotter of sorts, identifying where firecrackers had landed and steering us clear of losing a limb. Firecrackers, though, were tame.

The real spectacle was the illogical use of firearms: at times, it sounded like a Compton gang war with several people wielding pistols and shooting them off into the air in celebration of the New Year. My favorite was a drunk man dressed in a head to toe Santa suit, poppin off rounds as he walked around and laughed. GREAT. No dangers there. None at all. Weirdly, this happens more frequently than you may expect. I wake up every now and then to gunfire in the middle of the night and two days ago, as I sat in my living room, I could hear someone firing off rounds somewhere close by. There's been like one murder in this country ever but people love to shoot their guns off to celebrate.

After making it through the war zone alive, we arrived at a classy discotecque where we used our status as boozehound Americans to side step the entry fee. This club was just.... the stuff of dreams. Blood and glass on the floor, a haze of cigarette smoke, drunk seventeen year olds humping each other on the dance floor. My ideal. So we spent about 3 hours dancing the night away with a bunch of eastern European teenagers and drinking for cheap. Later that night, we returned home where I was assaulted by a cat for a few hours before finally getting fed up and karate kicking it across a room.

I'll never grow up, motherfuckers. Rio? Miss Mount V? Take it away.

Birthday Lessons...

Birthdays are ideal for learning important lessons:

1. Maybe you should have said no to those Mexicans from San Fransisco who bought you those tequila shots because you lamely attempt speak Spanish with them. Tequila is no bueno.

2. Therapy Thursday: 4 shots, 4 beers for $12. Okay never a good idea.

3. Not only is Therapy Thursday dangerous, but shamelessly hitting on the bartender who then proceeds to make you more shots (It will be a long while before I can taste a Girl Scout Cookie shot again.

4. Returning to you alma mater blackout. oops.

5. I need to keep my phone attached to my hip, rather then in the backseat of a cab when I return home. Not only did I forget it, since I use it for my alarm I woke up at 11 am the next morning, when I was supposed to be in at 10. I come in my manager laughs at me, and sends me home because I am in no state to serve customers.

6. Walk of shame BACK to work later that day to retrieve the phone the kind cab driver brought back. Everyone knew my shame.

Oh birthdays...

So Many Posts...

While I would never condone animal cruelty, CNN manages to make even animal cruelty...funny. Or maybe it was just this quote:

She said Petcka had complained, "You love that cat more than you love me," but she had no idea Norman would be in danger. When she returned home Norman did not meet her at the door as usual. She found his body under her bedside table.

Poor Norman.

Fast and Furious

However tragic the pushing back for Harry Potter 6 to next summer, I was surprised to hear about this sequel: Fast and Furious 4 WITH Vin Diesel and Paul Walker. I like it.

http://fast-and-furious-4-trailer.blogspot.com/

Hamlet... Facebook style

As an ardent fan of Hamlet, I found this pretty hilarious....

Hamlet, Facebook News-Feed Style

I will be leaving the country within the next week and a half ... have just been hanging out in Maine. But I have a new blog, one that I shall chronicle my time in the Donia from. You can find it here

But I will obviously keep the Disaster flowing as well.

Programming Announcement: Cats!

With every page refresh comes a new random pussy pic at the bottom of this page. Enjoy, heathens!

3 Months of Post-College Debauchery in 1 Photo

Though there were only 5 of us, it always felt like 14 or so, give or take... Mostly because we always had wonderfully lush friends and drunkard acquaintances enjoying the pleasure of our company (booze for boobs policy: splash of the Flash genius). Also maybe there were 9 dead bodies in the alleyway, formerly of the laundry room. Whatevs. All I know is I had great times in the OHD house (cemetery) even if... PEOPLE DID NOT UNDERSTAND THE EXPLICITLY STATED GOLDEN REQUEST FOR BOOBSPLZ. It's such a considerate house rule: plz!

*sigh* I guess I'm ok with it. I mean, boob-viewing-gender-preference withstanding, this photo most impresses me not with what is absent (titties!), but that there is a nearly full handle of decent rum in the middle of the table. Please pay no attention to that unholy handle of "Georgetown Kentucky Bourbon" on the far right. Since it was first sneakily bought by MissMountVernon during a group alcohol run to Wagner's back at like our first party, that cheaper-than-ramen "bourbon" had not been touched. At all. It was never even opened and sniffed to see if it was decent. We knew it wasn't. Not even the blackout assholes who drank in our cemetery for free would touch the stuff.

However, I did not give up.

Moving day came and that damned bottle was still sitting there. Naturally I gave it to the nice college fraternity boy helping me move... Just off the top of my head, I'd say at least 1 freshman got sexed from "bourbon". And that's good enough for me.