Kram’s First Request: Feer the Deer

Back awhile ago we (Toby) asked our vast base of readers for some suggestions on shit you’d like us to write about.  Since we have readers in over 40 countries and millions of daily requests it’s been hard to get to all of them but I’m about to do my first request.  Now only one of those stats from the last sentence is true but I am about to do my one and only request that I’ve gotten so far.  This one is courtesy of my good friend Dave, who if you don’t know is a funny dude who I hear has an enormous penis.  No, the request doesn’t have to do with any dongs unless you count the one I own that’s currently in my pants but his suggestion was as follows: “I want Corey to write a blog where he progressively has to take shots of jager every couple sentences all the way up to at least 12 shot.”  Ignoring his ignoring of singular/plural agreements I have to thank him for this, I’m sure this request in no way, shape, or form will contribute to my already probable early death.  Thanks man, you’re a real friend.

So it’s pretty simple.  He didn’t give me any subject matter to talk about (thanks douchebag, now I’m going to spew out drivel), only that I had to take a shot after every few sentences.  I haven’t done any yet, despite having written a paragraph because I wanted at least a little bit of this post to make some sense before I’m completely incapacitated.  He also didn’t give me any kind of time limit but I figure in order for this to be a good faith effort I’ll have to impose at least a lax constraint.  Let’s say about an hour? Sound fair? No? Fine, then how about you do 12 shots and write a fucking blog post you ungracious prick.  People got shit to do.  And no, I’m not going to give you proof that I’m sticking to the time, this shit’s honor code mothafucka.

So I guess here goes.  I suppose I’ll just detail the experience and throw in a little bit of whatever else comes to mind. Inhale… exhale… you can get this done dude, easy.  If you’re calling me a little bitch right now then a) go fuck yourself, I don’t need this kind of hate; and b) show me you can do better, because my money’s on you being an even bigger bitch.  Damn this is getting kind of angry and I haven’t even started yet, isn’t it?

Alright here goes.  Hope ya’ll like venison, ’cause we’re drinking some deer blood tonight.  This is so much worse for me than you even know, so I hope you enjoy your dancing monkey.

First one down, not too bad.  Could have been more chilled but what the fuck can you do? Part of me just wants to do like four more right now but I know that that’s a terrible fucking idea.

Number two down the pipe and I’ve realized I should have let myself digest a little bit more before this undertaking.  This shit’s kinda syrupy and although doesn’t pack the same alcoholy punch as say Jameson, is still thick and cumbersome nonetheless.  I might have to suspend this for a few to make a little room if you know what I mean (shit if you don’t, now close this window and go to Wikipedia or something.  Actually I’ve provided you the link, so just go for it).

A few minutes later and that’s done.  We’re back in business.  For some reference I’m now about 15 minutes in and about to do number three.

Three down, not bad.  What’s that, like a quarter way? I’m bad at maths.  Unfortunately the poop didn’t help as much as I had hoped, but then I thought does it ever?  Shit’s deep, contemplate that.  I have the Yankee game on and somehow they’re still in this playoff race.  Apparently if the Indians win or they lose they’ll be out of it, meaning their next game at Yankee Stadium will be meaningless.  Fun fact for all you fans: The Yankees have not played a meaningless game at Yankee Stadium in 20 years.  Can’t say you didn’t learn anything from this, although by now you should be learning something.

Four four four.  Dang.  This is starting to seem like one of those things that sounds a lot more fun in theory. Wait, no it didn’t, fuck you Dave.  Seriously.  I’m not really feeling it too much yet but I’m anticipating a mack truck coming my way in the very near future.  Hopefully I can avoid the wheels.

I’m starting to sweat.  This isn’t unusual, in fact most overweight men do more than normal.  This doesn’t bode well though.  Oh by the way five’s done and we’re chuggin along a little now.  I think I might feel some antlers sprouting in my head, report back on this later.

You ever sit on the bowl and really need to blow your nose but you don’t have much toilet paper so you blow and then wipe? Yeah, me neither, sicko.

Fuck the Colts.  Who the fuck pulls off a trade in the NFL during the regular season?  Nobody.  I can’t even remember the last time it happened.  What that particular trade did is kill Ahmad Bradshaw’s fantasy value, which sucks for a guy who’s thin on running backs.  I lost in one of my leagues last week to our resident Andre, which blows.  Oh and fuck Peyton Manning.  Did you really have to throw your first TD to Decker on Monday to royally fuck me in the butt? I know I was going to lose anyway but you could have at least waited until the second quarter.  And what the fuck is up with all of these chapters of Manning on ESPN? The guy’s not dead and nobody gives a fuck about his home videos. People don’t even watch their own.  When was the last time you saw yourself on video as a kid?  If your answer is anything sooner than three years ago then you have a problem.  It’s time to move on buddy, that Playskool car with the red doors and yellow top is never coming back. Fuck that guy though, why don’t you learn to win in the playoffs like your little bro.  OHH SHITT, SHOTS FIRED.

Sorry that was a bit of a rant but I did get through six.  Dang I’m definitely running out of time.  My pace isn’t great but in fairness it’s kind of hard to both write a semi-coherent blog post and stick to a timed drinking schedule.

“What’s the deal with the razor blade slots in the airplane bathroom?  Is anyone really shavin’ in there?”

Top post on Yahoo right now: Make Your Meat Last Longer.  Well for one I think Kegel exercises work pretty well.  You can also try thinking of that gross bitch you fucked that one time while currently banging that hopefully hotter chick.  I don’t have any other methods, and right now the deer blood is hurting my tummy a little.

Seven and Eight gone.  Sorry, I got a little sidetracked.  This sucks.  Sour Patch Kids aren’t even really making it better.  That’s how you know it’s bad.  A real reporter asking a question about RGIII: “How would you compare the swagger that he played with last year over the swagger he played with this year?”  Sorry all ya’ll journalism majors, this asshole’s got a job while you’re still masturbating (sorry Simon, masturbate has only one “e”) on your parents couch.

Suffice to say I definitely feel it.  I wouldn’t say drunk, but I definitely see the headlights coming towards me.  Pretty quickly I might add, probably 68 MPH (fuck you Bill)

Now I’m sitting in my boxers, but only because I need to change.  Yeahhh, mhmmm, owww, get a mental image of that for a second.  Wait, don’t puke, stop! You’ll fucking make me puke you brainless idiot.  Did you forget what this whole thing is about?  Jeez, how insensitive.  Show a little courtesy buddy.

Okay now nine, and I’m losing both steam and time.  I have to turn up the heat on my tea kettle.  Wait does anyone still have a fucking tea kettle? Bark once if yes.  Do you guys like Pizza Hut or Dominos better?  I mean I love stuffed crust but on the other hand the garlic crust is awesome, but on the other hand where’d the “e” go? I guess maybe Simon found it.

Ten and we’ve run out of time.  We’ll try to do better next time. This was fun/terrible.

I’ll leave you with a quote.  If you can tell me who said it without having to Google it then you get +2 points towards my next post:

“I see now that the circumstances of one’s birth are irrelevant; It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are.”



Corey Aaron

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