The Drunk Blog

I was dating a girl who, during one of my blackout drunken antics / rant nights, decided to write down a bunch of ridiculous shit that I said and did:

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Talking to a shot glass:

Me “Why are you so sticky”

Shot glass “Because I am”

Me “Wow… you can’t talk….”

— — —

Me “Wait, my glass isn’t even 100% full… it’s like… 34% minus like 17% and then you add the rest… less… because it’s not full… and this way I can’t spill it… I’M A GENIUS!!”

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Me “Let’s go to Walmart and ask them if they deliver stars.” [Referring to those sticker stars that kids place on their ceilings]

Girlfriend “Wouldn’t be a lot easier to just call them? You can’t really drive anyways.”

Me “They don’t deliver stars… I know this….”

— — —

Talking to a stuffed animal dog:

Me “You look more friendly when I’m drunk.”

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Laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling:

Me “Why aren’t my legs working?”


Me “Oh my god my legs aren’t working like I want them to move so I can walk and it’s like… water… like I’m a fish… swimming on the bed… but without water….”

— — —

Trying to drunk dial people with the voice feature on my phone; keep in mind this was 2008 before Siri was even a gleam in her father’s eye:

Me “Call 1-800-346-577 ….”

[I stare into space for about ten seconds]

Me “Call Allie.”

[I listen to what the phone is telling me in response]


— — —

Leaving a drunk voicemail for a friend, while I was in the middle of singing along with the chorus for “I’ll Be” by Edwin McCain:

Me “IIIIII’LLLLLLLLLLLLLLL BEEEEEEEEE… YOUR CRYINGGG SHOULDEEEEEERRRRRR … HEY JEN! THIS IS ADAM! From Fargo. You should call me back because… the door is locked. Tell your sister she’s hot.”

— — —

I was looking for something in the room:


— — —

Looking at my alarm clock on the nightstand:

Me “Talk to me, baby. Tell me what time it is.”

— — —

I ran into some coat hangers that were hanging at eye level with my face:

Me “Why do you think you’re so special? Just because you hurt people when they run into you. Whatever, you’re stupid.”

I grabbed the hangers and chucked them at the floor.


Then I stumbled into the bathroom.

— — —

I was singing along to “Stacy’s Mom” by that one group that I can’t remember because they’re irrelevant:

Me “Stacy’s mom… has got it going on…”

[I pause and reflect]

Me “Do I know anyone named Stacy?”

[I think VERY HARD for about 20-30 seconds]

Me “Do you think that me not knowing someone named Stacy reflects on my character?”

— — —

Me “Violent Sneeze sounds like a good name for a band.”

— — —

I ran out into the hallway:

Me “WOAH… Why am I in the hallway…?”

— — —

Talking to the stuffed animal dog again:

Me “What’s that doggy?”

Me “What did you say doggy?”

Me “Did you say that logic isn’t everything?”

— — —

Me “If humanity is going to go to the shitter, then I’m gonna get to do what I want, without a robot keeping me inside!”

— — —

Frantically trying to read the subtitles instead of listening to the show, and failing miserably as my brain cannot keep up:

Me “Why are we… moving the couch.. or… fruit.. or… WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT?”

— — —

And then at some point later I was completely naked, singing along to “She Will Be Loved” by Maroon 5.

— — — — — — — — — —

I didn’t remember doing or saying any of that shit. Which got me thinking that it might be interesting (to me) to try and open up a notepad on my computer and just stream-of-consciousness while I’m hammered and otherwise incoherent.

Then I decided to just put it all online, because why not. As if I have a reason for anything that I do in life.

And so began The Drunk Blog.

I only ended up making two rules: (1) If I end up typing a bunch of sad, weepy, emotional bullshit, I’m not putting that online, and (2) It only counts as a Drunk Blog post if I have genuinely no memory of typing any of it.

Kept it up for a couple years or so. Here are all the entries I created.

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31 January 2008

Wut’s crackin’ homies? It;’s a the first episode of ADAM IS DRUNK MOTHER FUCKERS!!!!! WhooOOOO!!!!

Okaty so this is going to be my blog owf the things I type when I am drunk. Maybe it will be funny and MAYBE IT SWILL NOW NOT BE FUNNY. WHO THE HELL KNOWS.

Okay. So I think that animals should haeve rights like people. Because my dog is as asmart as a peorople. Person. I think I am done now. This is enough for today’s episode. I don’t think that……. the dog needs me. be right back homesses.


EDITOR’S NOTE: As far as I can tell, I wrote this on New Years Eve, 2008 (going into 2009). I didn’t have a dog.

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Unknown date, 2009

i think that people shuld be stop being jerks to other people. i think that it is a bad thing to do and that other people should not be jerks to other people. THAT INCLUDES ME TOO JUSTSBT BECAUSE I AM SAYING DONT BE A JERK DOESNT MEANI CAN BE A JERK. i should not be a jerk either.

i think that people named brandon are awesome. know what i mean>> i think you do. because i bet you know a brandon too. just like me,. i know like six ofthem. yes you do. and he’s cool i ber. right>>>>???? yeah i bet

i think that countries should just not shoot nuclear bombs at each other. then the world would be at pease. my lps are dry.

i think it is because alcomhol dries out your dry.


Adam desautel.

thank you

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Unknown date, 2009

Please try again, right? Story of my life. Just try again and EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT. Well you know what, bottle cap? Not everything will always be alright.

Because sometimes, things in life just aren’t alright. Sometimes you go through hard times in life. But I think that it isn’t ncessesarily a bad thing. I mean yeah it’s bad because it sucks, but maybe it’s not bad as an overall picture. Of your life.

What if you lived your life always in happiness? Then you would never et to experience osmething that a lot of people get to experience because they are normal: And that is sadness. Sadness may feel crappy, but in a way it feels good. Reminds tyou that you’re human.

You can’t just be hapy all the time… I mean you can I guess, but sometimes we all experience sadness. There’s nothing wrong with it. In fact some of the best musical songs in the world have been written because they artist was sad and he wrote it. Or her wrote it.

Ya know whatever. Okay soo…… I guess I don’t have anything else to say

I don’t have anything else to say,

Adam Desautel

P.S. Whatev bitches!!

Love hurts! Love stinks! Love is a battlefield! All you need is love! Bye, Bye Love. Bonus points to who knows those songs.

I dont even think it is. You know? Like it’s not isn’t even. Y aknow.

You can’t even see the waterbottle!

— — — — — — — — — —

May 2009

Drunk Blog Entry 5:

I think one thing. And that one thing is that if you shit in something and leave it at a party, you have forfeited all rights of ownership to that item. You have now decided it is no longer yours.

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July 2009


your insults and your curses… make me feel like i’m not a person

i think that the song is relating to the people that have been hurt in the world………… it’s hard sometimes to be hurt in the word,dld. it’s so hard…….. being someone who is someone who is hurt. but not only am i hurt, but i am also someone who hurts other peoleeople. i am hurt and i have hurt. both. hurt and hurten. hurted? idk.

new paraghraph.

okay, there is a coollll song, it is time to go. but before i go i have to say that the best is the best in the world, and you are too! just for reading this, i think yiouy you you are coolll and mascullind.e. or feminine. whichevvereever flloats your boat. whichever. floats your boat iss okay with me.

i would say that if sooomething floats a boat uin in the universe,,, then it is ossoo something that floats my boat as well as well as wellll.

just to be sure: if you are cool, then en you a re a cool. in my bnoobook book. in my book.. a s a matter of fact .


DRUNK 9128345987 FINAL

Devon…. one of eleven!

What’s the point of a druknk blog anyway?

I mean what’s the point?

It’s not like ti’s funny. Or intelligent. Or funny or anthing.

OHGMG was my fina,l…. wait, okay the final I took and was fine, but they study group was in ABEN 22? something. I was confusing the final and the study session


finals are pretty much done, and i only have a small short quiz “final” that’s only like 10 questions of a true and false nature tomorrow, so i think that pretty much finals are done

but it still feels like that i can’t relax

evenen if inalsals are done, it feels like o i shouldn’t bee feeling relaxxing. if i am relaxing then i am being lazy and i have homeworkdk to do

but i don’t have homework to do because the it’s finals are over.

finals are over, so i don’t have anything to do

but it still vfeels like i SHOULD be stressed out. i think you get what i am saying. ya dig??

okay i’m done. “Good Times, Bad Times” by Godsmack is on, BYE!!!!


i swear to the god i could ever swear to that this is the end of me being drunk 145 check the time if you don’t believe me i’m going to bed now lol okay bye

i am probably the drunkest ever

her’e’s a story: i had to chase my bottle cap around the room around the room because i dropped it and it rolled aorund the room and i had to chase it a lol……. lol. omg

206 AM is what ma clock says lol DRUNK fot the final time




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August 2009

åDear Sober Me,

I don’t know what you want from me. You set your timer for 2 hours and 36 minutes, thinking to yourself, “I’ll be drunk enough by that point to make an inagural ‘drunk blog.’ ”

Oh! That sounds so lovely! I’m just some guinea pig to be toyed with? Actually, nevermind, that is probably the best use for me. I was going to get all angry and cuss you out, but now I’ve realized that we can have somewhat of a compromising relationship.

I had all sorts of naughty words planned for you, but that was ages ago, while I was peeing in the bathroom. Now I’m done with that, washed my hands, and am at my computer. I don’t remember those words anymore.

What is a drunk blog, really? I’ve always maintained that even in my drunkest, I’m able to proofread my own text, keep myself clear of grammatical and spelling errors (except those purposely self-induced). So it’s not like you’re going to catch me in some screw-up-fest.


I’ve had a lot of time to think about this (at least 10 minutes or so), and I’ve realized a few things. You have been attempting to exploit me for ideas you assume to be humorous. You think to yourself, “Oh! I’ll be drunk! I’ll have so much funny stuff to say! More blog posts!”

I’m not angry.

I think we can develop a sort of symbiotic relationship. A cooperation of sorts. I also feel like we’ve already almost had this conversation, but I’ll leave that for the scholars to decide. Here’s the agreement: You can take advantage of me or whatever, but I get to have more of a say in your life.

Right now, you have some sort of “Life Decisions” list on your iPhone (I can’t remember what it’s called, exactly) that says something like “No major decisions while you’re drunk.” I know that wasn’t meant to be anything nastified, but I found it rather offensive. As if I’m not capable of making rational decisions?

Most of those decisions involve drinking more. Or making major life-switching choices after drinking more. Okay I’m starting to see your point.

Let’s work out a deal. You let me exist more, and I won’t make any major decisions.

Drink more? Is that the conclusion we’ve arrived at? I don’t want to think any more. Do whatever you want. Check that, disregard last paragraph. Moment of judgement-lapse.


Drunk Me

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November 2012

Time moves a lot slower when I’ve been drinking. I know that for a fact. I laid on the floor for what felt like several hours, but based on the fact that the song (“Sail” by Awolnation) only played maybe five or six times, it could only have been about 30 minutes.

It also feels like my roommate has been showering for like an hour, but my iTunes says it’s only been about 15 minutes since I began this album a few minutes after he entered the bathroom.

I have arrived at two conclusions:

(1) I should never again attempt to base any measurement that roughly correlates with how long another person has been naked in a room near mine

(2) Time literally moves slower when you’re drunk, and there is no alternate interpretation of this phenomenon

It’s now about two hours later, and I’ve completely forgotten about anything I was talking about earlier. And I feel like reading anything above this paragraph would be violating the very idea of a drunk blog.

When I actually listen to the music, though? It all seems like time is moving infintely slower than imaginable.

If I really listen un-closely, I can feel that the music is moving at a faster-slower pace than I’m perceiving it, but I can’t help but realize it moves at a different speed than my perception’s perception is able to comprehend.

It might even depend on the song. I’ll wait until the next song to find out. Right now it’s “Powerless,” and it was definitely moving way faster than I thought possible.

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January 2015

A few weeks ago I woke up after a hard night/day of drinking, an accomplishment in itself sometimes given my level of self-medication for the ongoing stresses of life. I went into my refrigerator to get some food and/or wine and noticed that both my bottle of whiskey and bottle of wine from the previous night were not empty!

They were filled halfway with water.

I couldn’t even have been trying to freeze the water, because they were in the fridge. I may have been drunk, but I always remember proper grammar, and I don’t forget science.

Whatever master plan I had worked up the previous night while drunk enough to be considered legally dead in 12 states… I have no idea what it was.

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January 2015

I got really drunk a few days ago. When I woke up the next day, or evening, or whatever, I noticed several drops of blood on my banana pillow. It wasn’t the pillow I had slept on.

The investigation is ongoing.

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January 2015

To Do List:
– kill all the monkeys
– invent alcohol vapor

see, monkeys are more likely to catch viruses from animals that humans don’t get.

and humans are more likely to catch diseases from monkeys than any other animal.

the monkeys are killing us. they need to go. it’s the only way.


I accidentally swallowed a bit of wine in my lungs, and then I thought, what if alcohol was like cigarettes, and it could go straight to your lungs!

BAM alcohol vapors.

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February 2015

Lock “You don’t remember us talking about this? We’ve talked about this before.”

Me “Nope.”

Lock “Drink less.”

Me “Was I drunk at the time?”

Lock “Yes.”

Me “Then that’s your fault for attempting to have a conversation with me while I was intoxicated.”

Lock “So I’m just not supposed to talk to you at all? For 50% of the time I spend around you, I’m supposed to just sit here quietly and not ask you any questions or engage in any sort of meaningful discussion, ever? We would never talk about anything.”

While he was explaining that, I couldn’t even respond because I was laughing so hard.

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April 2016

I had just started long-term babysitting for a dog. Long story. Anyway — Conversation with my girlfriend at the time: