The... Drinking pt 2: Frank Bolts

Well, ended up drinking a shit load last night.

I don't remember leaving the pub, have a few messages on my phone having a conversation with my mate's wife where I identified myself as Frank Bolts, and my curtain wasn't on the window, so judging from me being half naked... i'm guessing someone got a show.

Then on my Facebook page, I have drunken messages stating that "is prety fuckrd. soryy fptryhodr jr had prddrf pfgg" and "ahuir", which from my many years worth of valuable training in 'Drunken IRC Decoding', means "is pretty fucked, sorry if i've pissed anyone off" and "shit".

The second one is most likely because even when i'm drunk I can pick up on the fact that I'm drunk, and I usually pick up immediately on the fact that i've mis-spelt something.

The whole thing has got me thinking that me identifying myself as Frank Bolts is who I turn into when I get drunk. When I drink, I become Frank Bolts.

Who this man is, I don't know. I've never met him.

But he sounds awesome.

The... Drinking

I have begun drinking tonight. I've got half a bottle of Bourbon to consume before I leave this plane of existence for another where drinking is on the menu, and singing via a microphone is common place.

Drinking is a favourite past-time of mine, so much so that I have become quite proficient at it. It isn't an uncommon sight that when I hit the drink, that I drink a fair amount. I love my alcohol.

If I became totally uninterested in the world, chances are that I would probably slowly kill myself like the character of Ben in 'Leaving Las Vegas'. The likely-hood of drinking myself to death in Las Vegas whilst getting together with someone of the hotness magnitude of Elisabeth Shue is beyond astronomical though.

It'd be worth the shot though. Even if I end up falling through a glass table after sucking on her tits covered in whiskey. It would be totally worth the shot.