Random insanity

Fuck. This is what happens when you drink too much and let yourself loose on the Internet. Christ, there oughta be a law against blogging while intoxicated. Thank God I only saved it as a draft and didn't actually publish it. So, edited, spell-checked and grammatically corrected, below is a draft post I typed while mad. I tried to reconstitute it as best I could. Large proportions of it make no sense and much of it is inane blathering, but hey.
Yes, I'm insane. Enjoy.

I feel like minus a hundred and fucking twenty, but I think I'm allowed negative numbers and obscene language after consuming twice my body weight in alcohol. Yeah, I drank too much. Family came over, and I realized rum, Scotch and vodka go down fine with creme de menthe on the side, la de fucking da. Wow. Heheh, I see my wow and raise myself a holy shit.
Adam is so infuriating. I'm making an effort to be angry with him, but Ashley's making eye contact while eating a banana and I think all in all nobody knows what the fuck I'm on about. Including me. So just shut up, Mr. Foot of the Bed. And great, I can't think of an insult, so I just describe where you're fucking lying. Shit.
No. I'm not drunk. If I was drunk I wouldn't be able to spell my phone number. But I was sick so I took Nyqil, then realized I was having people over and took some Dayqil...I kinda hoped they'd balance out to like Afternoonqil, but next thing you know I'm lying on the driveway contemplating the meaning of asphalt. Well, I guess you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it fuck.
Don't you think I'm beautiful? I think I'm addictive. And you do too. I'm made of sugar and spice and crack cocaine, baby. You can't resist. You know you want to be tangent to these curves. Shit, math. Math was always Mickey Mouse x squared bullshit to me.
How do we know reality's real? Maybe Adam's the only real thing in this universe because the rest of us are all wasted and disillusioned by life and the material. And speaking of real, was anyone there to witness the miracle when Jesus rose from the dead like a pop tart from a toaster? We can't convict on circumstantial evidence. I give you not guilty, but only because I don't think you merit being fucked up the ass when you drop the soap. But the people shall be merry and rejoice for the Lord is miscalculating every time a child is raped or a rapist born...'cause, see, God's too busy gettin' his drunk on to pay attention to stuff like creation.
This is my coffee. Dig it? Mine. Touch and I'll tear out your intestines, tie 'em around your legs, sink you into the nearest lake and make sure swordfish rape your bloated corpse. You may now resume conversation, but I'm pleading the fifth. Hell, ain't the fifth amendment like thou shalt not steal or something? Heheh, look at that...Bible, meet Constitution.
Want a drink, Adam? I got Jack in the fridge. What do you mean, like cranking a handle and a shot pops out? No, I mean Jack Daniels. But green's the new pink and pink is the new black and I am the worst possible result of an orgasm. But at least I know for sure the chicken came first 'cause if God made the egg first he'd have had to sit on the friggin' egg for it to hatch and, you know, God's got shit to do. Important shit.
But none of that matters because I am fashionably brilliant. And I can churn out bullshit and have my way with your body and your brain and you will love it. You will want to fuck it.
Because I'm the best acid trip ever.

Good God. I'm seeing brief glimmers of depth and sense lurking within the monstrous collection of bilge, but right now I'm too tired to give a shit. I will say one thing, though: in vino veritas.
In wine there is truth.