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Things That Are Difficult to Say When You're Drunk:
Innovative
Preliminary
Proliferation
Cinnamon
Things That Are VERY Difficult to Say When You're Drunk:
Specificity
British Constitution
Passive-aggressive disorder
Transubstantiate
Things That Are Downright IMPOSSIBLE to Say When You're Drunk:
Thanks, but I don't want to sleep with you
Nope, no more booze for me
Sorry, but you're not really my type
No kebab for me, thank you
Good evening officer, isn't it lovely out tonight?
I'm not interested in fighting you.
Oh, I just couldn't - no one wants to hear me sing
No, I wont make any attempt to dance thanks, I have zero co-ordination.
Where is the nearest toilet? I refuse to urinate over the nearest cash machine or shop front.
My wife and I were sitting at a table at her high school reunion, and she kept staring at a drunken man swigging his drink as he sat alone at a nearby table.
I asked her , 'Do you know him?'
'Yes,' she sighed, ' He's my old boyfriend...
I understand he took to drinking right after we split up those many Years ago, and I hear he hasn't been sober since.'
'My God!' I said, 'who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?'
I rear-ended a car this morning... So, there we were alongside the road and slowly the other driver got out of his car. You know how sometimes you just get soooo stressed and little things just seem funny?
Yeah, well I couldn't believe it... He was a DWARF!!!
He stormed over to my car, looked up at me, and shouted, 'I AM NOT HAPPY!'
So, I looked down at him and said, 'Well, then which one are you?'
When our lawn mower broke and wouldn't run, my wife kept hinting to me that I should get it fixed. but, somehow I always had something else to take care of
First, the truck, the car, playing golf '
Always something more important to me.
Finally she thought of a clever way to make her point. When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass,
Busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing scissors.
I watched silently for a short time and then went into the house. I was gone only a minute, and when I came out again I handed
Her a toothbrush. I said, 'When you finish cutting the grass, you might as well sweep the driveway.'
The doctors said I might walk again, but I will always have a limp
My job is so fucking unbelievable. I'll try to sum it up by first telling you about the folks I work with:
First, there is this supurrmodel wanna-be chick. Yeah, okay, she is pretty hot, but damn is she completely useless. The girl is constantly fixing her hair or putting on makeup. She is extremely self-centered and has never once considered the needs or wants of anyone but herself. She is as dumb as a box of rocks, and I still find it surprising that she has enough brain power to continue to breathe.
The next chick is completely the opposite. She might even be one of the smartest people on the planet. Her career oppurrtunities are endless, and yet she is here with us. She is a zero on a scale of 1 to 10. I'm not sure she even showers, much less shaves her "womanly" parts. I think she might be a lesbian, because every time we drive by the hardware store, she moans like a cat in heat.
But the jewel of the crowd has got to be the fucking stoner. And this guy is more than just your average pothead. In fact, he is baked before he comes to work, during work, and I'm sure after work. He probably hasn't been sober anytime in the last ten years, and he's only 22. He dresses like a beatnik throwback from the 1960's, and to make things worse, he brings his big fucking dog to work. Every fucking day I have to look at this huge Great Dane walk around half-stoned from the second-hand smoke. Hell, sometimes I even think it's trying to talk with its constant bellowing. Also, both of them are constantly hungry, requiring multiple stops to McDonalds and Burger King, every single fucking day.
Anyway, I drive these fucktards around in my van and we solve mysteries and s h i t.
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