Roughly one week ago, an intrepid Swan Fungus reader named Erik donated twenty-five dollars to this cause. Feeling a quarter of a hundred dollars richer, I decided to venture out to the liquor store I usually frequent when I have the depressed-and-bored-as-shit blues. I walked away with a bottle of Sam Smith’s Taddy Porter, a bottle of Stone Double Bastard, and a bottle of Avery Ale To The Chief. At this very moment, I’m in the middle of the Stone brew, which tastes rather absurd…somehow both fruity and bitter at the same time. In any event, I have to finish this episode of VH1’s The Pick-Up Artist 2 and my other beer, and by that point I should be drunk enough to finish this blog post. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish getting drunk, and then I’ll be back to write some more.

[two hours later]

Hey guys. I’m back. I’m putting the finishing touches on my bottle of Ale To The Chief. I just finished an intense Mario Kart Wii battle against Nate and Pat, during which we contemplated what a modern political ad for Adolf Hitler might look and sound like. Also, we thought about themes for future house parties and other trivialities. For some reason, my left eye has started tearing up. Right now. It burns like hell. For the life of me, I cannot figure out what the hell got into my eye. Whatever it was, it burns now. A lot. It looks like I’m crying. I really hope nobody walks into the room right now, because I look (and feel) like a complete fag. Do you know what happens when my eyes start watering? I’ll tell you what — my nose starts running. I think this is a natural and instinctive response that we all experience at some point in our lives. Still, to those of us on the “outside,” the appearance of another human being sitting on a couch alone in the dark staring at a laptop monitor and “crying” is about the gayest thing one could imagine. Doesn’t that sentence justify my self-consciousness? I think it does. Where was I? Oh, right. Thanks Erik, I’m pretty drunk now. This sections is sponsored by “finger quotes”. They’ll take a piece of writing where you want it to go, at least metaphorically speaking.

So, what’s in a blog post, anyway? I’ll tell you, I have no idea! It’s not the easiest thing in the world to do — especially after 1,450 posts. If I had to venture a guess, I would say that a blog post is something that must be contemplated and thought about at great length. For example, sometimes I ask myself, “Haven’t I already written about that idea?” and the answer is usually a resounding, “Yes, dumbass — you wrote about it yesterday.” Sometimes, a blog post strikes me like a bolt of lighting — right in the groin! Other times, it tickles me like a bolt of lightning — right in the groin! I’m not entirely sure what I’m typing right now, but it seems like the perfect time to introduce a new thought…and how do we introduce new thoughts, class? That’s right, we start new paragraphs.

Hi. I’m a new paragraph. In English class, you learned about how I’m a subsection devoted to another theme that is relevant to the overall subject of a piece of writing. Unfortunately, the author of this particular paragraph is inebriated right now, and there really isn’t a theme to this whole thing. How do I know this? Well, because I’m using what is commonly called “logic.” Logic is something that all men have, and all women lack. Logic is a system for determining answers to problems and for creating new ideas. Why do women lack logic? I’m pretty sure they’re born without it. Which reminds me, are there any women reading this page right now? I just finishing taking a look at the Swan Fungus Readers Facebook Group (for losers — even I’m not a member!) and I realized that, well, there aren’t many fans of this website who also have vaginas. If this was a game of “Guess Who?”, the game-winning question would not be, “Are you white?” (since, you know, there are only two black characters in “Guess Who?”) it would be, “Are you a Swan Fungus reader?” If the other person responds by flipping down every card except for two or three, you know that you have the game won.

New paragraph. What are you thoughts on this proposed Constitutional amendment to burn books at schools? I have to say, I’m for it. On that note…I went to Subway for lunch (that’s a free plug, Subway, why don’t you send me a coupon for a free sandwich or two?) and the woman standing in front of me was pregnant. She ordered two sandwiches, the fat cow, and rather than call attention to this, I elected to say nothing, and instead I cursed her fatness silently. I think I called her a dumb bitch for getting a tuna fish and olive sandwich, but what the fuck do I know? I’d eat bagels at every meal if I could. Wait a minute, I can. Why aren’t I doing that? Anyway, when she reached the end of the line, the illegal immigrant behind the counter packed her two sandwiches in a bag that said iCarly on it. I think that’s a Disney TV show, but I’m not certain. There were some Disney logos on the bag. In any event, there was a picture of some slutty teenagers on the bag, and below them was printed a key for deciphering “iCarly Speak,” which is entirely made up of emoticons and SMS-shorthand — shit like “LOL” and “QT”. I began thinking, “Jesus Fucking Christ, is ‘the system’ seriously trying to ruin the English language on purpose? Or are advertisers and marketers so-fucking-stupid they don’t understand that by teaching kids that “QT” is a widely used and correct form of English they are dumbing-down the future of our country?” I say this because I believe the children are our future. Teach them well, and maybe even touch them if they don’t know the difference between right and wrong. The correct response when one finds oneself in that situation, of course, is a resounding “Where’s my goddamned sandwich, fuck face?”  Another acceptable response would have been, “Did you remember my chocolate chip cookies, gunt nosher?”

Newer paragraph. If I had a television show, I’m pretty sure this would be it: me, juxtaposed to a black background (you know, like those reality TV shows when they show confessional footage, but it’s just a person sitting in front of a green screen or a black mat?), spouting off about nothing in particular. The beer is running on empty, and I’ve been running on fumes since I left for work early this morning. The fumes are good, don’t get me wrong, they keep me in a somewhat blissful state, completely unaware at how much my life sucks, so I…I…Ah, fuck it. I lost my train of thought. I’m going to chug the rest of this beer and try to get some sleep.

Thanks Erik. This has been another installment of “Getting Drunk On Your Donations.” If you’ve ever thought about clicking the DONATE button on the left-hand sidebar and sending me some money, don’t do it. I’m just going to foul out and get myself too drunk to function. Then I’ll write another rambling, incoherent blog post such as this.

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