Drunkbooking’s a word right? To hell with you Microsoft word, it should be a proper word. Someone fire off a letter the people at Merriam Webster dictionary and I’ll contact the Had A Few Beers legal team* about the matter.
Point is, even if it’s not a word, it’s a thing. If you know me at all, you know it’s a thing. I’ve proven it’s a thing time and time again.
I’m pretty sure I’ve alienated many friends, coworkers, future bosses, family and most of the GOP with my late night ill-conceived FB rants. But really what fun would Facebook be without the occasional drunkbooker here or there?
While drunkbooking may be fun you know what’s not fun, drunk online shopping. This is also the part where my wife and anyone with access to my financial records should stop reading.
Two people encouraged me, ages ago, to start this blog. By encouraged I mean one said, “Dude you should start a blog” and the other already had a blog and boobs. So by “encouraged me” I really mean they both had boobs. In my mind that’s all it took.
Step one start blog.
Step two boobs.
I’m kind of fuzzy on how this whole thing started.
Blogging is fun, even if the word blog sounds like the noise you make when you vomit, its fun. But then this exercise in an inflated sense of self worth got a bit out of control and the next thing you know I’m drunk on a Friday night buying up Had A Few Beers items off the CafePress store like I’m planning on stocking my own boutique at a mall near you.
Seriously, by the time I was done drinking and ordering I had racked up $850 individual reasons that every online store should require a breathalyzer test before the “Place Order” button can be pushed.
Here have a look for yourself …
… but what the hell was I thinking when I ordered 10 packs of HAFBs stickers? Some sort of gorilla marketing campaign on a very limited budget in a country where English is the second language and everyone and their mother with access to Google would know it was me doing the … yeah that’s exactly what I was thinking.
Crap, I’m an idiot when drinking.
But even the fact that I’m an idiot doesn’t quite explain three pairs of boxer shorts, six pairs of panties, three hoodies and one woman’s v-neck. Unless it does, and of course it does.
* The HAFB legal team consists entirely of my cousin an attorney who wisely ignores my late night legal needs. I’m still waiting for your opinion about the legality of sex with a monkey in international waters and the tax ramifications of adopting a Ukrainian hooker cousin!