All day I’ve been hung over, under, to the side, etc… It feels like a giant suction cup is plunging the top of my head over and over again in slow motion while two invisible vibrators fuck me in both ears. It’s not as hot as it sounds. Trust this. I was about to vow to never ever touch a bottle of booze ever again (HAHAHAHA!), but then my retinas swept across these pictures of Hugh Jackmeoff sunning his nipples in St. Tropez yesterday and I’ve changed my mind. I will lick on the sweet nectar once again as long it’s dripping off of Hugh’s 8 lane happy trail or off of his erect arm vein. That’s the only time. So please, Hugh, don’t keep my only true friend in the world (booze) and me apart!
Oh, fuckit. I’ll just lick some whiskey off of some rack of ribs leftovers and pretend it’s Hugh. I’ll sprinkle my own pubes over it to make it really realistic. Booze and I can never be parted.