I rarely drink, but last night, after several hours and several beers at the bar, I found myself face to face with two huge boobs. They weren’t the breasts of a young woman, but those of an old man. Still, the taste of a nipple is genderless.
I try not to laugh at the fact that even when she’s drunk, she has a hard time saying it. “Where do you want me to take you?” She drops her head back against my chest. “You can just keep carrying me. It’s very relaxing.
After an hour of gliding though the crowd and two glasses of tepid wine later, Penelope had reached the spiritual state of being merrily tipsy. It was that perfect state when everything starts looking wonderful and every tragedy turns into a comedy.
It's because you aren't thinking very clearly tonight.""I know. Being Drunk is weird.""Oh my god. I love you so much. Especially when you say stuff like that.""Like what?""Nothing. Never mind. Although I'm dying to know why your shoe is green.
People are talking about immigration, emigration and the rest of the fucking thing. It's all fucking crap. We're all human beings, we're all mammals, we're all rocks, plants, rivers. Fucking borders are just such a pain in the fucking arse.
Of course we got drunk!" Semyon said. "It's okay to get drunk, Anton. If you need to real bad. Only you have to get drunk on vodka. Cognac and wine—that's all for the heart.""So what's vodka for?""For the soul. If it's hurting real bad
Reevie . . . I feel wasted.” Her head sways from side to side, her hair hanging in her face. “Will you please take me home?”I peer at her. She’s had, like, two beers. I’ve seen her finish a six-pack in under an hour and not get tipsy.
There are hours for rest, and hours for wakefulness; nights for sobriety and nights for drunkenness—(if only so that possession of the former allows us to discern the latter when we have it; for sad as it is, no human body can be happily drunk all the time).
Some people don’t care about Christianity at all unless it can make them drunk or high “in the spirit.” They use and abuse God and Christianity just like they would use any other substance in their life. They search for the experiences, but not God.
I guess in my beer-soaked mind it would all just magically work out, and she'd be so happy to see me she'd forget about everything else. Because everybody loves having the drunken self-pitying boyfriend banging on their door at, Jesus, four thirty in the morning.
As I was walking past Tony Pastor's I saw Pat, the lesbian bouncer, throw a drunken young sailor out into the street. The sailor said, "That place is full of fucking queers." He swung at the air and nearly fell on his face, then he staggered away, muttering to himself.
They're professionals at this in Russia, so no matter how many Jell-O shots or Jager shooters you might have downed at college mixers, no matter how good a drinker you might think you are, don't forget that the Russians - any Russian - can drink you under the table.
Go to bed, you fool," Calcifer said sleepily. "You're drunk.""Who, me?" said Howl. "I assure you, my friends, I am cone sold stober." He got up and stalked upstairs, feeling for the wall as if he thought it might escape him unless he kept in touch with it. His bedroom door did escape him.
I came with many knots in my heart,like the magician's rope.You undid them all at once.I see now the splendor of the studentand that of the teacher's art.Love and this body sit inside your presence,one demolished, the other drunk.We smile. We weep, tree limbsturning sere, then light green.
Alice opened the door when I rang. She had on green pyjamas and held a hairbrush in one hand. She looked wearily at Quinn and spoke wearily: "Bring it in."I took it in and spread it on a bed. It mumbled something I could not make out and moved one hand feebly back and forth, but its eyes stayed shut.
