Tonight I unveil the drunk journal. It is the ultimate test of my comprehension of the English language, formal logic, and most importantly, my tolerance. Besides that, I will probably spill the beans about personal facts that I probably would not reveal under any other circumstance. Let's hope that from now on I do not over-endulge in the spirits or check into AA. I can honestly say I finished, with the help from my friend, a bottle of Crown Royal and Stoli Vodka. Let's just say I am feeling very spritely. I am currently watching the second to last Tonight Show with Conan O'Brien and by is it funny. I hope one day I can be on television and not give a shit about what anybody thinks. Boy would I rock the Earth more than the earthquake in Haiti. Aww too soon? Fuck you. So as per usual my drunk night, I ask, "What is the meaning of life?" Tonight's meaning is strictly indulgence. Right now I will continue to indulge in every thing I dip my paws in. For instance, I am contemplating seeking my parents 125 year old bottle of scotch and pouring myself a glass for no apparent reason. Will I do it? Maybe, I mean the worst that can happen is one of my credit cards gets cancelled. But realistically, I'll knock my dad out again if he does. I want to take a moment to emphasize the fact that I have knock out my dad before. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. Well by now I'm sure I have strayed from the topic and English grammatical laws, but the real message tonight is, in order to gain any respect in the world, you have to take on your father for man of the house. Until then, you're a free loader who has questionable self-worth. Good Night.
Excessively Pleasant
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