"Is still debating the pros and cons of string theory… while writing dick jokes" HalOral.com where intellectual thoughts meets excessive debauchery.
ShareAs a comedic writer I leave myself notes on interesting things I observe. I find that when I’m drunk I see especially bizarre things… allegedly. I’ll usually wake up to a confusing undecipherable message from the night before. The problem is, since I get too drunk, I can never remember what really happened.
It was a [...]
ShareAs a comedic writer I leave myself notes on interesting things I observe. I find that when I’m drunk I see especially bizarre things… allegedly. I’ll usually wake up to a confusing undecipherable message from the night before. The problem is, since I get too drunk, I can never remember what really happened.
It was a [...]
ShareAs a comedic writer I leave myself notes on interesting things I observe. I find that when I’m drunk I see especially bizarre things… allegedly. I’ll usually wake up to a confusing undecipherable message from the night before. The problem is, since I get too drunk, I can never remember what really happened.
It was the [...]
As a comedic writer I leave myself notes on interesting things I observe. I find that when I’m drunk I see especially bizarre things… allegedly. I’ll usually wake up to a confusing undecipherable message from the night before. The problem is, since I get too drunk, I can never remember what really happened.
Thanksgiving Eve is known as the best bar night in America, so knew I was going to wake up the next morning with a hangover. Actually, the next morning, I woke up in my friends’ mom’s bed. NO, not with her, that would be wrong. She was away. I slept on what she calls a “bed”, but what I would call a block of cement, alone. For this Thanksgiving Eve I went into Forest Hills, Queens and to a bar called the Irish Cottage. Now the Irish Cottage could be considered a “townie” bar. It’s filled with old drunks, Irish bartenders and not a single well adjusted person in site. It’s the perfect spot for my friends and me to get silly. After a few Irish car bombs, bottles of beer and shots of Jameson, needless to say I had a “buzz” on… ok screw three sheets, I threw five sheets to the wind. While the night as a whole is a blur, the only thing I’m positive that happened was that I gorged myself on eggs, hash browns and gravy cheese fries and returned to my friend’s house around 6am to pass out. I woke up the next morning to find this note on my phone…
“Irish Cottage. Not one but three guys with one arm”
(Read more after the jump)
