I am writing two posts in a row about mouths. I don't care. I have no patience for collaborators. I must write about my mouth.
Second, I'm drinking as I write this.
The second point is what needs addressing here. What am I drinking?
The answer lies in this song:
Unfortunately, however, I am not drinking a true ass brass monkey. Which wikipedia defines as: "a 40-ounce bottle of malt liquor that has been consumed to the top of the label and then filled with orange juice."
Oh!
No!
My heart!
For what I have is not malt liquor but merely PBR!
WHY CHRISTMAS GODS! Why did you let someone buy me a 40 of PBR and not Colt 45 or something of the like?
Oh well.
Do you like orange juice? I do. Quite a bit, actually.
Funniest thing, bro. If you mix orange juice with shitty beer it tastes awesome. Bubbly, beery, orangey, pulpy goodness.
Shouldn't I be writing about my Christmas dinner or something? Talking to you about roast beef and Yorkshire pudding? Probably. Because that is what I ate on Christmas and it was shitting good.
Thats right, babies.
Nothing matters to me in these post Christmas daze.
I eat what I want. I write what and when I want.
I drank that funky monkey because I couldn't help myself.
I'm simply the best.
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