Anybody who knows us, knows that we at Van Full of Candy like to party. They’re usually tipped off to this fact by us screaming “WE LIKE TO PARTY!” in their face moments before we collapse and begin to evacuate our bladders into our slacks.
Over the years fans of distilled spirits have seen their perception as lovable boozy goofs who’s only problem is not having enough lamp shades in their study, replaced by that of vomitous cretin vehicularly manslaughtering anyone who gets in the way of their dangerous, irresponsible drinking spree. And now the dry mainstream media is at it again, trying to shame Drunken-Americans into believing that they’re lifestyle is wrong.
I stumbled upon an article titled “6 Sneaky Signs You Drink Too Much” which is at best (something) and at worst a disgusting insult to my very personal identity to even begin to tell me that there might only be six. So I feel it is my duty– NAY, HONOUR (with the extra “u” being for EXTRA honor), to meet these slanderous characterizations and defamatory defaming with a six pack of rebuttal, a bottle of truth and a row of shots… of alcohol… talk.
First, the article categorizes 38 million adults as habitual “binge drinkers”, who enthusiastically embibe “an average of four times a month” and define bingeing as having “four or more drinks in a short period of time” for women and five or more for men. Well that’s fine, because I generally only have one, maybe two “daddy beverages” in a sitting from my 32 ounce Harrison Ford, “Cowboys & Aliens” 7-11 collectible Slurpee cup, so clearly there’s no problem here. But onto the “signs”.
#1: You become a daredevil.
Well sure, it’s called “liquid courage” for a reason. And while you may site that the “National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism” (like that’s even a real thing) says that alcohol factors into 60 percent of all fatal burn injuries and drownings, 40 percent of fatal falls and car accidents and 50 percent of all sexual assaults, I say that it’s responsible for 95 percent of all flaming cliff diving vehicular orgies, and the stories of which that will last a lifetime for all those who survive them.
#2: You’re a weekend warrior.
Here I will agree with the booze haters: no one likes a weekend warrior. You can’t just sit behind your desk 5 days a week and then come out and try to party like the big boys when you and the girls head out Friday night to chat about what a bitch Gary in HR is. It’s insulting to those of who practice the fine art of imbibing every day to hone our livers into the iron clad filtration machines that they are. You don’t just pull a helmet out of the closet and run onto the field Sunday morning and expect to hang with the pros. I can crush a bowling ball with the strength of my drinking elbow. It’s like a god damn crocodile’s jaw, all of the power is in it’s closing!
#3: Drinking just “creeps up on you.”
“One of the clues that you may be a binge drinker is not knowing your limits…”
No, that’s one of the clues that you may be an ass. I’m starting to see what’s happening here, you’re blaming this miracle sauce which grants +7 charisma and +2 fire resistance, for the stupidity of it’s users. You can’t just give any moron super powers and then be surprised when they don’t understand the great responsibility that goes along with them. I guess what I’m saying is I support drinking licenses. I’m not sure what the test to obtain one would be yet, but I imagine it would be awesome.
#4: Your memory has temporarily gone missing.
I’m sorry, are you referring to “Tequila Time Travel”: The phenomena of time jumping inside your own body from the end of one drink to an indeterminate time in the future, where you will then be told of your exploits during that period that your consciousness leapt over like you’re some kind of god damned folk hero? I’m accidentally obliterating all known laws of science and religion and somehow I’M the asshole?
#5: You let some responsibilities slide.
Listen, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t tell me not to drive the school bus with my navigator Jim Beam, and then yell at me for not being irresponsible. It seems like I am making the more responsible choice of not careening through the streets, yelling back at the children in my care that if they don’t stop screaming that I’m going to murder their families with the remains of their most beloved pet, by waiting just a tic or two ’till my buzz dies down. So you get to school a little late, I’m a hero that you get there at all.
And #6: People close to you seem concerned.
“If your family, friends, or co-workers have hinted that they’re worried about you…”
They are terrible drinking buddies.