Drunken Ramblings

Drunken Ramblings

This is a section of the website that I’ve been dying to do for ages. You know all the times you or a friend says something memorable, and you wish you had a pen to write it down? Well the following are examples that I actually have written down. You see, most of these come from sitting around a bunch of drunken mates (mainly Hatch) and thinking up the stupidest jokes, concepts, characters, ideas for movies... ummm... well you get the idea. Just read on. You’ll get the drift soon enough.

You know, I reckon it would be a cool idea to start up a porno theme park. There will be large dildo roller-coasters, singing animatronic genitalia, and instead of people walking around in big, stuffy cartoon suits... well they’ll just be naked, waving their arms (and other appendages) at the kiddies. I think I’ll call it Jizneyland.

After my buddy Braden makes his first million (which was supposed to be by the time he was 18, then the deadline was pushed back to 21... now its whenever he gets off his lazy ass and earns it), he plans on opening his own bank. The First National Bank of Braden. A sensitive new-age bank (snab?), the First National Bank of Braden understands that money matters can be a sensitive subject. You don’t want the person behind you knowing your current state of finance. That’s why Hatch’s bank features the Cone of Silence™. When you approach the teller, the Cone of Silence™ descends from the ceiling (a la Get Smart), where you can privately discuss your matters with the teller. Ofcourse, he’s not quite sure if it will even be a money bank... or a bank at all... but it’s gotta have the Cone of Silence™.
There just aren’t enough swear words around these days, and the ones we have are becoming so mainstream that it’s hardly considered swearing anymore. I mean, what’s the point of saying “Oh Pooh-sticks!” if it doesn’t raise an eyebrow or two? We plan on introducing more swear words into common language. The first of these is Glig, a somewhat amusing section of the word ‘negligible’ (Don’t forget, many things become somewhat amusing after the required amount of alcohol). Next, and probably the better of the two, is Scrog. Thank’s to Noel for that one. Just listen to the sound of it. Get scrogged! Scrog off! Woo hoo!
Where do lesbians keep their bottles of alcohol? My guess. A Licker Cabinet. Sorry folks, but that was just so funny at the time.
Following a drunken conversation with Braden, I wrote down the following sentence. “Sheet therapy, in place of colonic irrigation.” Your guess is as good as mine on that one I’m afraid.

Update: After umming and aahing for about 30 minutes, Braden was finally able to remind me what this meant. Who needs an enema when you can swallow one end of a bed sheet, grab it when it comes out the other end, and pull back and forth on both ends... like human floss... guaranteed to flush out your system. CLICK HERE for a crude diagram.

"Mick and Fran Drescher's Porno Hour" Another cryptic scribbled message that I can't quite remember the story behind. I think it had something to do with a porno that Fran Drescher was in.
Perhaps someday, I may be inclined to grow a goatee on my scrotum. I think I'll call it a scroatee.

More to come, as more alcohol is consumed.


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