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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Vocabulist nonalcoholic punchdrunk stupor January 1st, 2020 Unlike the vast population swath, with painful hangover average celebrant merely doth confusedly blink, who devoutly pledge new year resolution to give up drink immediately fall off wagon as he/she eagerly downs shot after fermented shot while forearms link with family, friends, strangers, et cetera and immediately rethink alcoholics anonymous pledge gamely nod and playful wink. Yours truly (me) never found wasted, soused, besotted, et cetera alone and/or with round of best buddies real, and/or imaginary nor got stone drunk crowned, (cuz never did I make friends - no lie), plus never felt compunction to quaff hard inebriant (think booze hound) life as extremely gawky introvert (think long haired pencil necked geek) preferred company of books with cute button nose bound between pages, this theme I could expound till cows come home to roost after bovines well rested from their sound sleep unready and unwilling to confront battleground (think slaughterhouse five), thus beef rendered me, we clowned and hoofed up memories promising each other pound for pound, we would stand our ground never freeload, mooch, sponge... nor EVER succumb to the bottle no matter how hardbound, especially when attaining rough-age older not necessarily wiser if necessary resorting and astound ding farmer in the dell to Diet of Worms smellbound while reenacting Holy Roman Empire called back in the hay day -1521 courtesy Emperor Charles V offering sobering admission lips ne'er taste amber and/or clear liquids of the gods, no matter believe me you reader hopefully aforesaid confession doth not dumbfound.
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