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It’s Time To Embrace Girly Drinks

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Girly drinks

On a Friday night when you want to get drunk and you start taking tons of shots like John Lennon, whatcha drinkin? Think about your favorite drink right now. When you want to cut loose and get fucked up, picture your ol’ faithful, your go-to source of liquid courage to chug down like an Irish hooligan.

What is it? Probably some manly shit. Some masculine, tough drink, right? Jack Daniels? Jägermeister? Peyton Manning’s cum? Yeah, probably. Because you’re a MAN, god dammit! A badass, red-blooded American man. You throw footballs, devour bacon, and shove your rock hard, throbbing three-inch D into hot chicks at crazy parties! Well good for you, Chaz!

And a REAL man drinks gross hogwash like dirt cheap whiskey and howls like a hillbilly werewolf with Aspergers. It’s a weird unspoken philosophy of manhood, that if you want to be a real man, you have to suffer through a disgusting drink if you want to achieve intoxication. For some reason, if you have a dick and balls, when you get drunk you’re not allowed to feel joy. Whatever you’re drinking better taste like shit or you may as well change your name to Karen and start reading Nicholas Sparks novels.

Well guess what: I don’t give a fuck. Ya know what I like to sip on? sangria. Margaritas. Shit like that. Yeah, I’ll sip on them with a pink bendy straw and stare you in your bloodshot eyes with no shame. I love drinks that actually taste good. For some reason, when you’re a guy, if you drink sweet drinks, you’re automatically “gay” or “a pussy.” Well so be it. I’ll be the gay pussy that’s enjoying himself and doesn’t wanna vomit blood on the floor.

Let’s break it down. First off, sangria is my shit, my favorite drink. It’s amazing, and it tastes like an angel giving you a hug. It tastes like the laughter of a puppy (if puppies could laugh). It tastes like the first time a girl says “put it in and let’s get this over with so I can watch Orange Is The New Black and go to sleep, Wally.” It’s a wonderful beverage. Try to sip it and hide a smile, dickhead.

Wanna know another one of my favorite drinks? Mike’s Hard Lemonade. Most dudes think Mikes Hard is a girly drink. That if you drink that shit, you may as well have a vagina. Well so be it, I guess I’m growing a vagina soon (which is cool because I can start keeping my wallet up there). Mikes Hard Lemonade is my shit. I don’t know who Mike is, but if I meet him I’ll thank him for all he’s done for me. I’ll buy him a drink (probably a Mikes Hard Lemonade). Try to sip it and hide a smile, dickhead.

Now, a “manly drink” like Jack Daniels tastes like wet garbage. Jack Daniels tastes like a Vietnam flashback. It tastes like your racist uncle. Jack Daniels is so bitter and harsh that when I drink it I have flashbacks to traumatic moments that never even happened to me. I’ll take a few shots of Jack and think “fuck, I can’t believe my dad is dead.” My dad’s still alive! That’s how disgusting Jack is. I want to see Mike murder Jack in a Wafflehouse parking lot with a spiked baseball bat during a loud thunderstorm.

My point is this: Stop giving a shit about what other people think. Stop doing shit just to fit in and be “cool” and masculine. If you do something ONLY because you want to impress people with your faux toughness and be a “real man,” YOU’RE the pussy, and you’re afraid to be honest or authentic. You’d rather follow the pack of other mindless meatheads, basing everything you do on conformity and hipness. Ya know what I call that? Fucking pathetic.

So stop assigning genders to drinks. Stop saying one drink is manly and one drink is girly — that shit makes no sense. And for God’s sake, stop living in fear of what other people will think. That doesn’t make you cool; it makes you a coward. So drink what you want. Pour dozens of sugar packets into a sangria pitcher while you dance to a Shakira song and sing along like a white dork, and stop giving a fuck.

As usual, I can’t wait to read your angry comments. Brilliant little lines like “Wally, you’re such a pussy,” “Wally, you’re the worst writer on TFM,” “Wally, kill yourself,” “Wally, I have way too much free time.” Have fun. In the meantime, I’m gonna pour 11 bottles of whiskey into a toilet while I sip a margarita.

Enjoy yourselves, and accept delightfulness into your grim lives. Fellas, It’s time to embrace girly drinks.

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Wally Bryton

TFM's most beloved writer

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