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Recent Comments
- In The Mailbox: 02.28.23 (Afternoon Edition) : The Other McCain on Hey, longtime pw readers…
- In The Mailbox: 12.23.22 : The Other McCain on Patrick J. Carroll truly IS a sad, embittered psychopath
- Danger on Patrick J. Carroll might be a psychopath
- Danger on Patrick J. Carroll might be a psychopath
- In The Mailbox: 07.18.22 : The Other McCain on Patrick J. Carroll might be a psychopath
You’re not supposed to drop it.
Well, thank goodness we can laugh about it now.
Seriously! The cops weren’t laughing at you. They were laughing about you.
Turing = common, as in Maybe this will help.
I don’t feel so well.
Uh, you have a liver?
Sorry you are not feeling well, and sorry I missed you yesterday.
Let’s hope it’s only a sprain.
Run it off, boy, run it off!
Sure, it’s all fun until someone puts a liver out…
Bite Me?
Bite you.
So I take it the blogger bash was a smash.
Anybody got a bullhorn?
A tasty hangover cure:
“Cut of the head of one canary. Make a small incision in the skin near the breast-bone. Slip a finger inside, and deftly pull off the skin with all the feathers attached. Heat cooking oil until almost smoking, place bird in the oil, un-drawn, and deep-fry for two minutes. Remove from the oil, dust with salt and pepper and serve. Optional: Some flambé canary with cognac immediately upon removing from the pan.â€Â
The bones are crunchy goodness!
The liver is the seat of evil. It must be punished.
Two gentlemen will be over shortly to remove it.
Thanks for signing the card.
Get yer pluck up sonny!
Go fetch yourself a Guinness and change out of those filthy panties! Have yerself a sheep’s liver sandwhich!
You know!
Like a man!
yours!
peter!
Bloody hell I almost forgot!
http://www.anglik.net/foodanddrink.htm
Think of it this way, now that the little crybaby is out of the way there is nothing between your stomach and sweet, sweet blood alcohol.
It was always trying to keep you sober anyway.
A broken liver is a midwinter beauty bonus! Suffering from the pasty whites? Jaundice will give you that fresh-from-Florida sun kissed glow.
Hair of the bad boy and Kris Kristofferson’s, Sunday Morning Coming Down, comes to mind. Softly.
Everybody get one? Guess this one must be mine all mine.
Slabbath day comes but once a week….
.
You don’t know how to quit me.
Were there any Irish there? Because if the Irish weren’t there, we can’t guage the level of competition. I mean, it doesn’t look like that place even serves hard liquor.
– Pretty lame way to blow off Sunday blogging Goldstein. I mean if you want to watch roundball, just say so.
– BTW. We couldn’t help notice that while you were off marinating your liver, the redoubtable actus was nowhere to be seen. More than a little curious, wouldn’t you say? But we’ll know for sure when those DNA results come back. So for now, just don’t leave town. Wouldn’t want to have to send the ‘dillo’s parole officer after you….
TW: No deposite required
As long as your onions remain intact, I think you’ll be A-OK.
tw: shot
How about a double?
If you just think it’s broke, then your still in tall cotton.
Besides, it’ll a make a good haggis some day.
Why should sheep have all the fun?
Now here’s a thought to bring a smile to your old liver’s puss. You might have belonged to Teddy Kennedy!
TW: piece
I think I know of what.
Menudo.
Well, you’ve got a kid now. Good source of spare parts.
Can I have it?
Doctors found blood in my alcohol system once.
Just a note;
Alcoa is going to fund an opera house in Round Rock Texas. That’s right, Alcoa Hall.
Dude, the liver is a government conspiracy, like Indiana. Have you ever seen your liver? ‘Nuff said.
Nice one, Sortelli. Jeff, you know you’re not supposed to drink on Klonopin, right?
I’m relieved. I had feared Jeff was becoming a drug addict. And they tend to veer to the left of the political spectrum. But, he seems to be back into the fold of good ol right wing lushes!
Hangover cure:
El Tepehuan. Use it until the hangover goes away. Don’t stint on the green chili topping. If you need to, get a hotel room in Englewood and do 3-a-days until you’re all flushed out.
You know what I find helps end a hangover? A big, fat chimichanga with extra sour cream and guacamole.
Or enchiladas suizas. At like 9am. Really hits the spot.
Oh, no, wait. That’s what makes you puke some more. My bad.
By now he should have encountered that “zone”. You know, where there ain’t nothing left. Should be all uphill from here.
Water, very important. 1 tsp at a time.
Waffle House makes hangovers go away. Greasy goodness indeed.
Hangover cure?
Don’t sober up.
Hey mister, may I have your watch when you are dead?
You need to put on your shoes, go to the drive-thru window at Micky D’s, and order a fish sandwich, large fries, and a milkshake. Try not to throw up in line (as I did once in my younger days), but open your door and lean over if you must. That tarmac has seen worse.
Broken livers don’t taste as good with fava beans unless you marinate them in the chianti first.
But it sounds like you’re already got that part covered.
Let me tell you that this was not a pleasant thing to witness – I have never seen someone so literate descend into such rambling inanity.
Whoo!
So. I descended into a poor state at the last blogger bash. Doing shots is never good for me, but doing them on Klonopin kept me bedridden for two days.
I don’t know what I said or did, but please do keep in mind that the drugs I’m on have a lot of strange effects—not the least of which is that I have very little control over the editorial function, not to mention very little idea how to form a coherent narrative. But I do thank you for publicizing it both here and on your site (with a link back, too! How comprehensive!)
As a corollary, I have decided I won’t be attending any further bashes. So I can safely be ignored from here on out.
Enjoy each other’s company. Me, I can always get drunk at home and arm wrestle myself.
And I apologize to anyone I offended, which I most likely wouldn’t have done were I in full control of my faculties.