do you have a funny story involving fighting cock whiskey? did you learn some grand lesson while being flogged by it’s claws while you were screaming “no no no” and it was screaming noises you couldn’t understand because fighting cocks can’t talk and we’re not even talking about the fucking animal, we’re talking about whiskey. everyone knows that whiskey don’t talk. it listens. and waits.
at any rate, if you think something like that is the case let us be the judge. as dumb as that fucking is.
fighting cock summer 
May 12, 2009 at 10:24 pm
So, it wasn’t necessarily stated whether the fc 103 incident had to be in the summer.
This one was not.
I live in the mountains where sometimes during my high school career, snow would happen real good and certain school days became drunken sledding days on my farm for the qualified.
The one day, in snow mind you, it was decided by myself and my friend Jason that it would be a worthy if not noble thing to hitch hike to the nearest liquor store (Boone took an hour by car them days) for some of this esteemed bourbon. We had only experienced the cock previously that fall, and both had DUI’s at 16 to prove it. Yes, we new what the sledding situation called for.
I’ll spare the details of how a couple 16 year olds hitching in the snow on a two lane road to a liquor store w/ no fake i.d.’s managed to make it back before nightfall back to my house, FC 103 in hand.
Memories.
So, the next day (school was canceled all week) we start drinking the shit mixed with watermelon kool-aid and start calling up friends trying to get a ‘miller classic’ sledding troupe rousted up.
Getting excited on the whiskey at 11 am, we got stupid and started challenging one another with more shots.
We were not successful in getting a troupe together. We were not successful either in waiting until later in the day to make the pizza for which we’d purchased all the ingredients, and gobbling it right on up (huge pizza).
We WERE successful in finishing the cock by noon. Also, in removing our snow vests/shirts. We were also successful in making it about 5 or 6 steps in totally different directions out my kitchen door into the sub zero snow. Somehow, he still had the wits about him to pass out on a plastic sled. Yep.
Who knows how long it was, but once I came to, I was all but frostbitten all over my torso and felt this deathly burning sensation throughout all extremities.
The sun was starting to come out, and I could see that it looked like a massacre, tommy guns n all, had gone down in my front yard (kool-aid).
It also looked as if pizza the hut had been involved and lost some bodily chunks.
In trying to save jason from suffering the frostbite i was sure he would get, a battle ensued.
A long, painful ‘best friends’ battle where both parties truly wanted to kill the other at a certain point.
I made it inside and locked the door.
This only made things worse.
So, I threw Jason his shirt out the window and went to lie down.
We didn’t talk for awhile.
Memories…
May 12, 2009 at 10:32 pm
that’s the type of shit i’m talking about. exactly.
May 12, 2009 at 10:38 pm
oh yeah.
how could I forget the valuable life lesson I earned from this experience?
Now listen up kiddos.
Never, and you better be listening, is it a bad idea to wear a diaper if you can remember.
thank you and good night.
May 20, 2009 at 2:41 am
words of wisdom
May 21, 2009 at 7:19 am
Maybe it’s the fighting cock, maybe it’s cause I’ve not slept much, maybe it’s both, but I’m bored and sitting here looking at the myspaces and for the most part (exceptions of course) I hate you all and really all this wasted time on myspace in my shitty room on my shitty mattress makes me just wanna hang myself. fortunately there’s really nothing to hang myself on. maybe a nail on a wall or doorknob with a tie, but I mean that’s not worth it. that’s like some ken park shit or something. I digress.
The point is this; it’s all your fault, you poor, little, lost, sheep. I mean I’m no different. I’m lost in some form or fashion and people probably look at me and just wanna hang thereselves as well, but let’s be honest. there’s not many if at all. I’m fucking awesome.
Now once you’ve read this take a step back and just look at yourself and realize we can change. we can stop this hipocracy, we can become more than animal, we can make this rock a little more bearible and maybe even show a little more intelligence on the side. I’ve seen statistics and India is kicking our ass as well as any nation just about these days.
Just etch this in your head and maybe start today a new.
May 23, 2009 at 11:58 am
I did two bottles split between friends and got food in a gas station with no pants on. serious winner!
May 23, 2009 at 12:14 pm
btw still drunk!
June 4, 2009 at 2:19 pm
This one other time, drunk on the cock, I rambo-styled it one handed with a supersoaker 250 during a massive water gun fight from an embankment onto a low hanging branch in a huge birch tree soaking the fuck wet. Only mere milliseconds passed until the momentum of my body caught up with my soaked paw and I slipped, falling 12 or so feet onto my ankle, nearly breaking it. Oh yeah, this was the day I graduated high school and the huge graduation party was at mi casa.
Who knows how many were there 1,2, more hundred?
And the whole time I couldn’t mingle at my own soiree, I was lovingly being coddled and nursed by underclassman ladies smoking high and being handed my cock and vodka bottles whilst lying in bed.
Lesson: Not only does the cock sometimes cause problems to begin with, but it will always make up for them as long as you stick with the mighty bird.