Alcohol - Blog Posts
holy shit shrek can legally get wasted
shrek is 15 years old today
The Great British Pub
Nothing finer than sitting by a roaring fire, while you sip a pint of your favourite beer....
According to the Campaign for Real Ale, 21 of our finest pubs are closing every week. Shocking. A pub is like a church, the heart of the community, with barstools instead of pews.
Long Live The Local!
Are We Kissing Goodbye To The Local?
Another one bites the dust. The Jester pub, Cockfosters being demolished. 3 pubs a day close their doors for good. Pub closures have an impact on communities. Pubs have been at the heart of our culture for generations and remain one of our most valuable assets. 1 in 4 of us fall in love in a pub!
DRUNKARDS
DRUNKARDS The monuments which whiskey erects all along the road to ruin.
From “The Silly Syclopedia”, by Noah Lott. 1905.
ЗАБУЛДЫГИ Каменные истуканы острова Уиски в море Краха.
© Перевод
First post! Feels kinda empty in here so I’m sharing the most recent photo I’ve taken. Have a flask of isopropyl alcohol chilling in a bath.
He doesn’t know what to make of it.
It’s ugly and it’s not, it’s beautiful and it’s not, it’s simultaneously everything he could have wanted and everything he dreaded.
She was leaving him.
She was leaving him, and wasn’t that fantastic? Wasn’t that horrible? Wasn’t that everything he could think of, alone but together with himself and a bottle that he could’ve sworn had fused to the callouses on his fingertips, had been superglued there and never ever left.
She was leaving him.
He still had his wedding ring, stuck to his finger in a different way than when you try on a ring and have to take it off with soap and water and time. It was stuck by the adhesive of his own mind. Trapped. He couldn’t take it off, couldn’t bare to pry it away.
She had taken hers off long ago, so why was his still stuck, like the bottle to his callouses and to his lips and permanent streams of saltwater that clung to his cheeks for days and days and days? Why?
All of his breaths were shudders and all of his thoughts were endless strings that never had a conclusion, an essay with an infinite word-count. He could still see the amber spilt on the floor through watery eyes, and still found it ironic that he was back to crying over spilt milk and spilt Jack Daniels and spilt tears and he was crying over everything and nothing and whatever was in between, so why did it matter anyways?
He clenched the bottle even tighter in his hand, and he wasn’t sure how much of it was alcohol and how much of it was his own tears at this point, and he knew he had to stop.
He had always known he needed to stop. He knew he needed to stop the first time he took a secret sip from beer in the fridge and the first time he had a serious hangover and the first time and the first time he met her and the first time she left him and the first time she came back and the first time she left a second time.
So many firsts. To him, the milestones didn’t matter a single bit. To him, all that mattered was that he didn’t have to care about what really did matter. And he was incredibly proficient at that in particular.
So he was good at knowing when to quit, but he was never quite as good at quitting. He was still stuck on that one time she smiled at him and she had looked so genuine, so real, and how she had looked just as real and tired when she said that she wanted a divorce and that she had had another.
She had another, didn’t she? Of course she did, she was always good at back-up plans and back-up-back-up plans. He knew it when she had a beer spilt on her shirt that neither of them liked (like the Jack Daniels on the floor and the milk knocked over to the ground and his heart to hell fires). He knew it when she came home with her lipstick smeared and with her eyes wild, he knew it when she stopped looking him in the eye and started looking at the wall behind him.
(The last time she looked him in the eye she told him straight to his face that she had another.)
(The last time he looked her in the eye he didn’t say a word.)
He stood up and slipped on the whiskey and prayed to whoever was out there that he wouldn’t be able to get up. It didn’t work.
It never worked, did it? Whoever was out there doesn’t care much for people like him anyway, and he could hear in the back of his head the whisper screams of ‘alcoholic’ and ‘acute mania’ his own screams weren’t loud enough. The shards of the bottles scattering everywhere when he smashed them to drown them out hid under his couch and beneath the coffee table to escape him and he understood why, because he was running from himself too, like her.
He didn’t know if there was a God anywhere.
he would break the world down piece by piece for you, darling
Trigger Warnings: Overdose, cheating, alcohol
“He would do anything for you,” his friend says to him one day. The coffee in front of her had already gone cold, but she still stirs it with an idle hand. “He would hang the moon for you if you asked. I have no doubt.” He laughs, and doesn’t understand. She looks at him through dirty lenses, and her eyes speak a thousand words, a whole galaxy of thoughts swirling in brown eyes and gold rimmed glasses.
“He would.”
And he still doesn’t understand.
He doesn’t understand when his boyfriend follows him like a lost puppy, or when he hugs him tighter than anyone else he knows. He doesn’t understand when the lights go out and he feels a hand trying to grab his own under the covers, or when he sees him cry in the corner sometimes.
He could write a song about the silent, slow, rare tears he saw on those nights. It was the kind that travelled down your face and dripped down your neck, and you didn’t care enough to wipe it away. The kind that you didn’t sob out, but rather let go.
It didn’t really matter to him, though. Saltwater was saltwater, and he didn’t care why it came into existence.
“You should go home,” she tells him one night. “Your boyfriend is probably worried, and it’s late.” The club is pounding, pounding, pounding, the bass creeping into his veins and making his breathing and heart stutter just a little bit. Her glasses are reflecting the neon bar sign, and the glare someone’s camera flashing is caught in her purple hair. He couldn’t care less.
“Another Blue Sunset!” He calls out, with a wild grin on his face. There was no way he was leaving before three.
She glances at him from the side, eyebrows scrunched and eyes unsure. “How are you gonna get home?”
“I’ll call my boyfriend,” he waves it off and grabs his full drink. It was fine. He was fine. Everything was fine.
And that’s what he tells himself.
That’s what he says when he starts to leave with strangers and promises that it won’t happen again. (He doesn’t know if he’s trying to convince his boyfriend or himself.) That’s what he says when he starts to bring a toothbrush and a comb when he goes to the club. (It’s so he can fix his hair and brush his teeth after having a few.) That’s what he says when his boyfriend’s crying became more frequent and more and more resigned.
(He doesn’t know when this became their normal.)
His boyfriend doesn’t really look at him anymore. He sort of looks at him with his eyes to the floor. And he starts to forget which stairs creak in their house and he stops leaving his socks everywhere because he sleeps in a new house every other night. He doesn’t have the time.
(He doesn’t know when his house stopped being his home.)
The sky looks sad today. He looks up and it’s bright and sunny and clouds are few and far apart. He squints. The beams of light make dots in his eyelashes and he stares at them until his neck aches and his eyes burn. It’s a good day.
(He doesn’t know what that is anymore.)
He never understood why his boyfriend cried more often. He never understood why he wanted more. He never understood why his heart was broken. He never understood that maybe he was like this because his heart was never there in the first place, like it was just ripped out, like there was a hole in his chest and every second of every minute it was straining to get it back, straining to exist a little longer, like he was as empty and hollow as a skeleton in a secondary school biology classroom, like he would never understand how to understand.
(And when he was lying on the floor, his actual heart slowing and his boyfriend screaming a terrible broken sound that made his voice shudder and shake like it couldn’t contain whatever it was feeling and kneeling on the floor next to a bottle of pills that no longer rattled, he still didn’t understand.)
A vampire moodboard with a theme of neon purple, nightclubs, wine, and leather jackets
A Parsley Botch moodboard with a theme of rainbow, gay pride, food, and alcohol
Happy LBGTQ+ month!
Another request I did for my friend @upbeatroxy
A Roxy moodboard with a pink, love, and alcohol theme
A request I did for my friend @upbeatroxy
Jerafina with a purple and alcohol theme
What happens in Thailand, stays in Thailand- from episode 5
FULL-MOON PARTY.
In this start of the second half of the season, so many things happen and it's a twists plentiful episode. It's hard to decide what to start with, but let's just start. So Piper tries to announce that she wants to move to Thailand & learn Buddhism, and there's no thesis. Victoria rejects the idea while Tim busy thinking about ending his life (he stole a gun from Gaitok who keeps an eye on Mook instead on security).
The three friends got their spice up- clubbin with their health mentor Valentin and his friends. After some nude scenes Jaclyn advises Laurie to have sex, but takes the opportunity to fuck the hot mentor.
Remember Mook? Well, she celestialy performs during dinner show but there's a reason why they focus on her jewels...
The Ratliff boys arrive on the yacht to a full-moon party with Chloe and Chelsea. With music, drugs, alcohol & secrets- things get bizzare (taboo style)! Speaking of Chelsea, I wonder what will happen to this angel surrounded by demons.
Rick is in Bangkok and he has a gun now- that brings new question marks. Last but not least is Belinda who waits for her son's visit and gets oppressed by Greg. The solution- some bed action with her wellness guide.
Tbh, it was hard to choose ten gifs from TWL gifs ocean, but eventually I think my choice kinda sums up the episode's plot.
The Clink
It all started with a clink,
It was my 21st birthday and shot glasses clinked,
But before then I have always heard a clink,
I was 3 years old and my dad came stumbling in the door,
I had no idea what my parents were fighting for,
I heard my parents divorce was on the brink,
But I was only a toddler what was I suppose to think,
I could never understand,
But my mom and dad held my hand,
My dad came home from having a drink,
But after he passed out on the floor I heard the table clink,
I walked in the dining room door,
But found that he was passed out on the floor,
I looked at the table and saw a can,
And I put the drink in my hand,
I took a sip and it was gross,
It was only then I realized that I missed my dad the most,
I thought it was sprite,
But something just didn't taste right,
It was beer,
But I was to young to know what was clear,
It was all a clink... it was all a clink,
When I found out that you died,
All I could do is cry,
It wasn't out of anger or that things got bad.
It was that I would no longer have my dad.
Never thought I could be so sad.
Or change so much,
But it was with you that I am now out of touch.
I'm now 22 years old and all I hear is a clink,
I clean my cup in the sink that reminds me of my thoughts from last night,
But something didn't feel right,
You weren't there fixing my hair for school,
You weren't there telling me the ultimate life rule.
You died and something in me went with it,
I wish that something could fit,
But I can no longer look forward to seeing you on the street,
Or randomly see you in the local walmart where we would meet,
What could have been so bad?
That you could not reach out to anyone my lovely Dad,
What took over all of your thoughts and pain,
What drove you away from all the things that made you sane.
There's so much I want to tell you and all of the things to know that you would think,
But all I need is to start with the clink.
The clink, the clink again, we need a clink to know where your thoughts began,
What hurt you so bad, I need to know dad,
Those beautiful hazel eyes and their silent cries,
I miss laying with you and how much you showed your love in our hellos and goodbyes.
This film is heavily inspired by my time working in a 24/7 cafe last summer. Amongst the typical trials of graveyard restaurant life, I was dealing with some sticky home situations, the passing of my grandma, and some other events that really overwhelmed me. Upon returning to school, I wanted to make something really positive. There was this point where I realized that you’re never alone in pain, and knowing that other people are dealing with heavy things really helped me. It by no means solved my own issues, but there’s this sort of silent empathy that we can all take part in. -n
I recently reached 1 year and 9 months of sobriety. This is the longest time I have been sober in my life. Recovery rocks for sure. I don't miss the hangovers or withdrawals. I freely admit that I'm an alcoholic and I was addicted to crystal meth.
drinking hasn’t been in my family for a generation but i feel the weight of the “curse”, as my great-grandmother apparently called it.
i’m starting to believe her
trauma really does damage to families, doesn’t it?
(not going to pretend i have it bad/worse than others, i’m fine, just food for thought.)
My drink tonight 🦊❤🥃 #rum #rumandcoke #alcohol #pritchards #smoothflavor #getsomeofyourown #craftymama #bulletjournal #bujo #makerdreamerdoer #spicedrum #cocacola #washitape #craftsupplyhoarder #
On an Average Day, What Do You Spend Money On?
On an Average Day, What Do You Spend Money On?
It’s striking that one in three Americans claim to keep a monthly budget, but most people don’t know how much they spend on a single day. Now, some of us use mobile apps for budgeting, but for those who don’t, how much do you think you spend? Let’s go through a day in an average person’s shoes. Transportation takes a huge chunk out of our wallets. In a year, the second most expensive expenditure…
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How we do for a dance party!!! 😃
Back on the bucket to beat the heat ;-)
Double birthdays = time to get absolutely mortal!!!
Taking shots at The Coug
This sweet chocolate stout was an amazing find! Definitely recommend!!!
Partying at the beach of Lake Coeur D’Alene!!!
Flight of Stouts!!!
Winner = River City Brewing’s Vanilla Bourbon Stout
Too drunk hahahahaha ;) #fun #fuck #drunk #alcohol #alcoholic #happiness #harddrink #drink #liquor #veryfunny #party #montañita #niceplace #fool #followme #follow #followfriday