Hold on to your sober caps because a new Drunkennings starts in 3, 2, 1: *crsh* Beer-thirty. Okay, now let go of those caps because it kind of defeats the purpose.
Rule #1 of being drunk (which I am not): Do not drunk dial, drunk Facebook, wasted Tweet, or drunk blog (unless you have a website called wordsandslurs.com, which you don’t because it belongs to me. Drunk dialing is really only effective when either you’re the one calling, or both of you are drunk. 3 am is a horrible time to call anyone. Drunk Facebooking leads to being shocked and embarrassed in the morning, and having to delete a bunch of things while hoping that no one saw them (the twelve people who liked it and the eight who commented probably didn’t see anything). Wasted Twitter (a step or two above drunk) is ill-advised simply because of how easy it is to spam Tweets down the throats of your followers on a sober day. Being wasted is like having a blog series where you just write down whatever you’re thinking or feeling while you’re drunk (or getting drunk) and shove it down the throats of your followers. Just don’t. And finally, don’t drunk blog because it’s my thing and I will cut you.
For christmas this year, my sister gave me a pair of pajama pants with gingerbread men on them. Half of them have their heads torn off and it says “Bite Me.” I think they’re awesome and extremely comfortable and I’m wearing them now.
Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence. HA! Silence. Silence. Silence. = Me watching Family Guy.
Arkham City is great, by the way.
After working this food service job, I find that I’m somewhat addicted to multi-tasking. I frequently find something to watch on my computer while I play video games and drink and/or do something else. People ask me if I can honestly focus on everything at once, and I say “Your breath smells of soot and poo, and yes, I can focus on everything. I play the same game all the time, and watch things I’ve already seen or things I don’t really care about.” For example, the other night I was watching a movie on Netflix. It lost my interest, so I whipped out the video games. I still watched the movie, but did I see everything? No. Didn’t miss anything, either. Dumb movie. Lesson here: some movies suck.
HOLY CRAP I just switched games. Going back to some God of War. This is semi-big. Just like….other things…is what she said.
I just laughed at my own joke. That’s our secret, and so help me, if you tell anyone… mmhmm.
Isn’t it crazy how you go back and play your favorite games that when they came out, you thought they looked amazing, but now, they look dated. You don’t really notice the progression of technology, it’s more like things just look better sort of. It’s the comparison that really dates games.
Oh, god. Kratos can roll. Batman cannot. Batman has little spiky dudes above his attackers before they make contact. Kratos does not. — adjustment period.
Stop rolling, damn yoU!
God of War = button mashing, Batman = skills. More or less.
Was just thinking “I need to drink more and faster,” then banged my elbow full-on into the wall and didn’t feel anything…. which confirmed everything? Yes.
You know what God of War and Batman (as games) have in common? Simplicity. The controls are not complicated. A great game has simple controls and an awesome story/environment/story environment. Complicated controls are an attempt to make up for a crappy game. AND WE NOTICE.
The problem with sequels to games is that sometimes you try to do the awesome moves you can do in the sequels, but in the originals, and FAIL. It’s like playing Arkham Asylum and trying to speed grapple, or playing God of War and trying to grapple to enemies and pound them to the floor. Not ON the floor, mind you, TO the floor. Get your mind out of the gutter.
If your mind isn’t perpetually in the gutter, you’re doing it wrong…. I’m doing it wrong.
For the love of the gods, STOP ROLLING!
You know, if my current statistics mean anything, it shows that the Drunkennings series isn’t all that popular. I’d consider discontinuing it, but for such a small readership and for the fact that my website is called WordsandSLURS (the drunken type) leads to shove it all somewhere for a rainy day. You guys sort of like the Disturbed Personas series, and really seem to like the blog posts where I talk about something very briefly. Those factors considered, at almost 800 words, not many people will actually finish reading this post.
If I insult you, it’s only to get a rise out of you. To encourage discourse. It doesn’t seem to work. Well, what you.
Have you read the latest Disturbed Personas? #4? There’s a lot of naughty words. Non-sexual kind. Seriously, you’re depraved.
I miss Arkham.
The best part about getting drunk and posting things on the internet/texting or doing anything is seeing it in the morning, or being told about it, and having little to no memory of doing it. Really, the absolute best part is the whole “REALLY?!” aspect on your part.
Getting drunk and reading about it later really just affirms how crazy you are.
Speaking of which, I never edit Drunkennings. I edit as I go, and anything I don’t catch, well, sucks to your assmar.
I want the stamina of a video game character. They get sliced and diced how many times before they die. One hit kill games suck le balls. They’re not fun. I want a health bar, basically.
Kratos, your sternocleidomastoid is showing. Bahaha.
So 30 Rock is over. I started watching this season, but the early episodes around the election really upset me. Relevance is one thing, beating me over the head with a rubber club is another. If I wanted election coverage, I’d find a way to watch CNN (I don’t have cable). Sounds like it got better. I kind of know what happens because I like them on Facebook.
Excuse me, I have a griffin to beat the crap out of. DIE, you whore!, but don’t die because you’re a whore, die because you crossed me one too many times (in this case, once). Whores are peeps too.
Also, Peeps are disgusting and I don’t know why they’re still manufactured.
I’m not drunk, per say, but my Facebooking is hi-fraking-larious right now. Toot Toot.
I just saw something about writer’s anxiety. Here’s the thing (for me): I don’t have anxiety about writing. I love writing, and I’m going to write whatever the hell I want. If no one reads it, I don’t really care. I don’t write for other people, and I don’t necessarily care if I can make money at it. I write because it makes me happy. To me, the happiness is payment enough, and anything after that is a bonus check (a very highly taxable bonus check).
DAMMIT Facebook, stop autocorrecting my typos. They’re intentional, damn you!
Kratos, you and I are going to have a serious problem if you don’t stop rolling around every two seconds.
Okay, so I quit Kratos and ran crying back to Arkham. At least I went to Asylum. Batman just knows how I like it, and Kratos doesn’t have access to the Joker by Mark Hamill. LOOOOOOOOOOVE it.
Batman vs. glass windows: Oh no you didn’t.
Anyway, g2g and all that snacks,
you made it this far, You’re Welcome (such an arrogant prick am I.)