How to Overcompensate with Alcohol and Make New Friends

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It’s hard to make friends in a new city. Here’s how.

  1. Avoid the first few events you’re invited to—not because you’re too cool, but because you’re crippling social anxiety keeps reminding you that you’re a creep, you’re a weirdo (what the hell are you doing here? you don’t belong here.)
  2. Eventually accept invitation to party, holiday or otherwise.
  3. If the party is on Friday or Saturday, make sure you start stressing early—let the stress distract you from Monday or Tuesday onwards.
  4. The morning of the get-together, buy two bottles of wine. One for you, one for the party.
  5. Before the party, drink 3 glasses of wine by yourself while curling your hair and dancing to The Weeknd in your underwear, so you’ll be ready to dazzle your new friends with your witty quips and intellectual remarks.
  6. Walk into the club (or apartment) like “what up? I’ve got a big cock.”
  7. Depending on climate, perhaps murmur Mackelmore lyrics in your head for confidence, and just say “hello”
  8. Distribute the wine you’ve contributed to the party and pour some for yourself. Also have some beer. And some whiskey. And some Irish moonshine, if the moment permits.
  9. Realize you had nothing to worry about in the first place, people are chill and so are you
  10. At this point, you should stop drinking, but you’re feeling overconfident in your newfound social abilities, so actually just continue overcompensating until you’re on the verge of a blackout (relocation at this point from party to pub is viable)
  11. Now you’re the drunkest person at the party. What do you mean that’s not a compliment??
  12. Go outside to smoke a cigarette with your new friends, and get into a verbal altercation with the bouncer of the pub, who remembers you from a small incident two months ago and has an insane personal vendetta against you
  13. When you are disallowed from re-entering the bar, loudly regale your new friends with the anecdote about why he hates you in the first place with a drunken bravado; repeat unnecessarily, because you are smashed
  14. Chat some more outside the pub, call yourself an Uber.
  15. Go home and make a 2 am pesto-cheddar quesadilla and watch an episode of Brooklyn 99.
  16. Spend the next day in bed until 4 pm, and bask in an equal amount of shame and glory: you may have embarrassed yourself, but you told some good jokes. Two birds, one stone.

 

Xanaxes & O’s

Kelsey

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the best movies to bang to

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You know how sometimes you’re hanging out with someone just to get it in, but you both feel the need to pretend you actually enjoy each other’s company?

So you put on Netflix or surf through your shitty Cox cable selection and end up watching Family Guy re-runs because “Who doesn’t love this show?” until an acceptable amount of time has passed to take off your pants.

That’s all fine and good, but it could be even better without Peter Griffin’s nasally voice overlapping your obnoxiously exaggerated pleasure-moans.

Screen one of these ball-bustin’ blockbusters to give your next soulless hump-sesh a little spirit.

National Treasure. The only thing naughtier than stealing the Declaration of Independence is what you’re about to do against the coffee table.

The Graduate. “The Sound of Silence” is flawless the first, second, third and fourth times it plays in this film. And Benjamin’s sense of hopeless isolation probably mirrors your own if you’re hooking up with a guy you can’t even have a substantial conversation with.

The Lady and the Tramp. Delightful background music in this one, too. “We are Siamese, if you please” really flows with “Get on your knees”

Anything Tom Cruise is in. tomcruiseThey’re all just a series of explosions, piercing stares, and plot lines you can follow even while you’re faking an orgasm. Except Minority Report, that one’s actually kind of worth watching.

Titanic. Just kidding, that’s something Cosmopolitan would put on their list. Fuck you, Kate Winslet, share that scrap of wood, he’s dying over there.

8 Mile. That final rap battle sequence is a more intensely satisfying climax than yours will be, so just lose yourself in the music the moment you own it, but don’t vomit up your mom’s spaghetti.

Juno. Because you wouldn’t want to forget the potential momentous consequences of your canoodling.

The March of the Penguins. The angst of real-life Antarctic penguins combined with Morgan Freeman’s honey velvet voice results in an unparalleled visceral pleasure that you needn’t be ashamed of.  (If documentaries are too intellectual or you’re just feeling a little animated, try Happy Feet as an alternative, but don’t expect the same sensation)

Add these to your queue so you’re prepared, but just make sure that if one of these dudes comes back again, you don’t blow your cover and screen the same movie. I’ve found keeping a record in Excel to be quite helpful.

Helen

 

December Drankz

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We here at PPOP love nothing more than getting catatonically high and watching Food Network for shamefully long periods of time. So, last night while I lay aimlessly on the couch for five hours mildly hallucinating and watching Giada De Laurentiis and her terrifyingly perfect teeth, I transcribed a few drink recipes. Bottoms up!

The Snow Plow

1/8 g cocaine

1 mg Xanax

as much gin as you like

some tonic

lime juice in lime shaped bottle from back of fridge

½ plastic straw

 

The Snow Plow is a snowy, seasonal sensation! To really knock your fuzzy Polar Bear socks off, first take a look in your cabinet to confirm that there are no clean dishes, and then choose the cleanest looking glass from the sink, rinsing it with only scalding hot water and no soap for quickest, but not cleanliest results. We’re not trying for godliness here; just rinse out most of the red wine from last night’s shame fest. Sprinkle some of the coke and Xanax on the counter, rimming said glass with the mixture and concocting a G&T like you normally would. Now, here’s the fun part! Rack a giant line in front of the cup on the kitchen counter, and pretend that the only way to get to your drink is by clearing up all this pesky snow. Think to yourself “I’m a snow plow!!” and suck it up your nose with one satisfying snort through the straw. Insert straw into cup, remove yourself back to the couch, and text all of your friends about how totally chill you feel and that you love not being able to feel your mouth!

 

Christmas With The Family

Plastic gas station whiskey

An evening with the ones you love most

Racist grandma

Redbull (optional)

This one is sure to really take the edge off! Two hours into your meal at Aunt Becky’s house, a “dry household” because her second husband Uncle Terry used to be an alcoholic and can’t be “near the stuff” anymore, slyly reach into your mom’s purse and pilfer her car keys. Text your favorite cousin and tell them to meet you out front in five minutes. Scarf down the remaining Oreo cheesecake on your plate (classy), and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Quietly opening the front door, make a run for it and jump into the car. Drive to the nearest gas station and purchase a plastic fifth of the cheapest off brand whiskey they sell, and a redbull if you need a chaser/have become reliant upon the addition of stimulants when drinking. Here’s the crucial part: stage a race between you, your cousin, and the bottle inside of the car in the parking lot, trying to finish it as quickly as possible. Finish the bottle; realize you can no longer legally drive back to Aunt Becky’s; leave the car, walk to local watering hole, conveniently located next to the gas station because this is a hellhole of a town; continue drinking inside with your cousin, ignore forthcoming phone calls from family members and enjoy the best Christmas of your life.

 

Bonus!!

Nature’s Eggnog

Guy from dive bar

Handle of Captain

Pinch of nutmeg

Misplaced dignity

Another glassless and classless recipe, this dandy drink is basically organic! For this one to work, you’re going to want to have a horrible day at work that prompts your going to a dive bar alone and taking some random dude home immediately. You’ve been drinking since you got off at five, so you’re already on the verge of a blackout. When you get to the part where he tries to pull your head up so he can get inside of you, instead finish off, swallow, and swirl around a small amount of nutmeg and a big gulp of Captain in your mouth, and then ask him to leave. Then fall asleep with the lights on partially clothed, and phone a friend to cry in the morning.

 

Happy December!!

Guest Post: Review of “Blowfish” for Hangovers

Written by Gregory Marblemouth and Autocorrect

Since my original review was reported and removed from Yelp, I am honored to take this platform to discuss how FANTASTIC my life has become since I introduced Blowfish into my daily routine.

Drinking is wonderful. The only three drunken moments I can recall are glittering with a hedonistic perfection comparable with ascending to Mount Olympus. Much of this is due to cocaine, but that’s not part of this review. However, the one drawback of reckless alcohol abuse is the hangover that follows.

Before Blowfish, my nightly jaunt to my seven favorite bars would leave me haggard and useless the following morning. Throbbing headaches. Shaky limbs. Blurred vision. Relentless projectile vomiting on my secretary Kathy.

My job performance was noticeably deteriorating as I failed to balance work and binge-drinking, and just as I was about to abandon all hope and apply to become one of those holiday bell-ringers outside Walgreen’s, I heard tell of a wonder-drug rumored to be the”cure” for hangovers.

Blowfish.

This magical pill was designed to replicate the combination of coffee and pain-relievers that many regular drinkers turn to when experiencing a hangover. I assume this is because the other common combination of bacon, mimosas and more mimosas yields a sensation that cannot be captured in one small pill.

Due to less acidity and a quicker uptake period, this pill zaps your hangover in the balls before you can say “I just can’t even”.

Its infallible effectiveness has allowed me not only to maintain my lifestyle of heavy drinking, but expand upon it: I now begin my day with three hearty servings of bourbon and a Blowfish, top off my morning coffee with two light shots of whiskey, and can handle up to six additional drinks with lunch before needing a second Blowfish to take the edge off.

Then, after my tough day at work is through, I hit the town for my usual gallivanting, but instead of being limited to only my favorite seven bars, I can visit ALL the town’s liquor establishments knowing that faithful Blowfish will fuel me in the morning.

Have I been forced to change careers? Yes. Have I lost all of my non-homeless friends? Yes. Have I physically aged thirty years in the past three weeks? Probably, but my vision has rapidly declined and I don’t wash the mirrors of the Volvo I live in. BUT HAVE I HAD A HANGOVER?

The answer is no.

Want to be immune to awareness of your body’s gradual disintegration? Or, as I like to call it, UNSTOPPABLE? Buy Blowfish at your local CVS, on Amazon, or text me for my address (it changes from time to time, as it is vehicular). For just $15, you can turn your life upside down and fuck it up the ass.

Drink up.

Gregory Marblemouth is the town troubadour of Concord, California and an on-call holiday bell-ringer for Bay Area Walgreen’s locations. His contact information has been removed, as he does not remember writing this article.