THE FOLLOWING IS A TRANSMISSION FROM THE PENGUIN LAIR, ANTARCTICA ——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————
I don't know if you know or not, but yours truly is currently enrolled in a collegiate undergraduate program so I can further my education and be the first person in my family to get a college diploma. The main reason for this is, quite understandably, the current global economy.
Because, apparently, you now have to have a goddamn college diploma to be able to unsuccessfully try to take over the world, while a complete retard gets to run it for at least four years.
Sometimes, it's enough to drive a penguin to drink.
Now, I am sure that there are many high school students who may stumble across this page of vile decadence and horrible dick jokes who may either be on their way to or considering going to college. There may be a few adults reading this who are considering going back to school for employment reasons or because they have nothing better to do with their lives. Still even then, there may be one or two sexual deviants who are only in it to try to pick up on college chicks (which may or may not be another major reason why I'm in school, I need to get my dick wet).
Well, fear not fellow blue-balled social pariahs! Teh Evil Penguin is right here to give you a sneak peak at the fine establishment that is the cornerstone of every university. A place where philosophers go to drink, students go to study, frat boys go to try to wipe away the memory of the last night's sodomy by instrumentation, and sorority girls to go get sodomized. A magical realm in which dreams come true (mostly of the wet persuasion), debates of Aristotelian magnitude convene (and dismiss in a flurry of punches), and grand choruses fill the night with the sound of music (mainly "Friends In Low Places" and "Ice Ice Baby").
Of course, I'm talking about ye olde college tavern.
Where shit like this is just another average Tuesday night.
Whether you're going to watch sports, bury your bone, get railed like a horse in heat, or get as drunk as the almighty Tucker Max, the bar is a fantastic place to kick back and relax.
However, you can't just walk in and order any old drink like you would go into McDonald's and get your mechanically separated and reconstituted soy protein patties, You need to do your homework. here's a few things you need to keep in mind so you don't look like a complete douchenozzle.
1. Know Your Bar
Do some research on what bar you're wanting to get your drink on at. It has to have the atmosphere you're willing to put up with.
For example, if you're a jazz man...
No hipsters allowed.
...you wouldn't want to walk in to this:
A metal bar. Because I just happened to find the one kind of bar out there that Google doesn't have a fucking image for.
Or if you're of the sports bar crowd...
The guy on the tele knows what's up...
...how would you handle winding up here:
I'd probably huddle in a corner and cry my eyes out from fear and being disturbed.
The music is as equally important. For example, when you show up at a bar all E'd up and ready to rave, but you end up somewhere that plays this:
I love country music, don't get me wrong, but this shit makes me want to shoot my dog and slit my fucking wrists.
The patrons are also important to know. If you're as white as a fresh virgin snow and you're in to hip-hop, go to your local college strip bar's hip hop night. Unless you have the street cred of one Marshal Mathers, going to the local hip hop spot may leave you with serious injury, or in the lead role of the next interracial gangbang movie.
The same with you women, you don't want to end up tipsy at a lesbian bar...
2. Know Your Drinks
This is as equally important as knowing your bar. Now, I'm not talking about knowing your types of beer and liquor (which, you need to anyway), but the drinks themselves.
The main rule to remember out of all of them is this: no pussy drinks.
For the love of God, unless it hits like a runaway Mack truck on an ice-slicked Colorado mountain road, don't you DARE put that frilly drink or fruity shot to your lips. For example, I had a shot a few weeks back called a Fuck Bin Laden. It had blueberry liquor, vodka and Red Bull in it. Yes, it was fruity as hell, but one shot put me about three pints of beer into drunkenness. If it doesn't hit like that, preserve your MAN status and get a goddamn beer.
If you want a wine cooler, it had better be in the form of MadDog 20/20. If you want to be a real man, put down the Jager and drink some goddamn scotch. You want real beer? Leave the moose piss alone and drink something seasonal (I prefer Blue Moon in the summer and stout in the winter), but you can't go wrong with any manly beer like Guinness or anything from Germany. You say you want a mixed drink? Get an old fashioned, a screw driver, or order some Flaming Dr. Peppers and have every girl at the bar cream their lacy white panties. If you want to have a martini, you drink that sonofabitch like James Bond or Hawkeye Pierce: like a fucking manly martini.
That means no daiquiris...
...and no frilly fruity martinis...
This guy must suck at giving head (pun definitely intended). I mean, look at his lips! It's like he's not even trying to act seductive and/or pick up on some drunk guy!
...unless this is your idea of a night out with the boys:
And guys, unless you're at a fine restaurant, at a New Year's party or at a special occasion, NO CHAMPAGNE!
The one exception to this rule is if you are making the most goddamn manly drink I've ever heard of, a drink concocted by the great Earnest Hemingway himself: Death in the Afternoon.
I think I just heard lightning crackle in the background. Nevermind, it came from the drink. No, wait...
Now, you're asking yourself, "TEP, how can you think that even Hemingway can make champagne MANly?" Well, pull the bloody cotton tube out of your cunt and I'll tell you.
According to AskMen.com, Death in the Afternoon was named after Hemingway's 1935 nonfiction account of Spanish bullfighting by the same name. He published this drink in a book of celebrity drink recipes with the following instructions:
Mother.
Fucking.
Absinthe.
Wow, how's this for a magic carpet ride, DUDE! YOU MADE OUT WITH YOUR SISTER!
No wonder this fucker shot himself in the head, he drank so much of le nectar de la virilité that he lost his fucking mind from being so goddamn verile. Take the time to look up this fucker's adventures and you'll see what I mean. He makes The (so-called) Most Interesting Man In The World look like Ralph Wiggum.
In conclusion, if you want to walk the walk in the bar scene, you gotta talk the talk: with MANly alcohol. And, if I see any of you fuckers at a table with some frilly umbrella drink and it's not goddamn Margaritaville, I will come up behind you and give you an epidural of Coors Original from the keg and show you what the fuck a real drink is.
And ladies, I saved the best advice for last. Here's all you need to know about drinking at bars: drink a lot and give some lucky man a piece of that poontang pie.
I don't know if you know or not, but yours truly is currently enrolled in a collegiate undergraduate program so I can further my education and be the first person in my family to get a college diploma. The main reason for this is, quite understandably, the current global economy.
Because, apparently, you now have to have a goddamn college diploma to be able to unsuccessfully try to take over the world, while a complete retard gets to run it for at least four years.
Sometimes, it's enough to drive a penguin to drink.
Now, I am sure that there are many high school students who may stumble across this page of vile decadence and horrible dick jokes who may either be on their way to or considering going to college. There may be a few adults reading this who are considering going back to school for employment reasons or because they have nothing better to do with their lives. Still even then, there may be one or two sexual deviants who are only in it to try to pick up on college chicks (which may or may not be another major reason why I'm in school, I need to get my dick wet).
Well, fear not fellow blue-balled social pariahs! Teh Evil Penguin is right here to give you a sneak peak at the fine establishment that is the cornerstone of every university. A place where philosophers go to drink, students go to study, frat boys go to try to wipe away the memory of the last night's sodomy by instrumentation, and sorority girls to go get sodomized. A magical realm in which dreams come true (mostly of the wet persuasion), debates of Aristotelian magnitude convene (and dismiss in a flurry of punches), and grand choruses fill the night with the sound of music (mainly "Friends In Low Places" and "Ice Ice Baby").
Of course, I'm talking about ye olde college tavern.
Where shit like this is just another average Tuesday night.
Whether you're going to watch sports, bury your bone, get railed like a horse in heat, or get as drunk as the almighty Tucker Max, the bar is a fantastic place to kick back and relax.
However, you can't just walk in and order any old drink like you would go into McDonald's and get your mechanically separated and reconstituted soy protein patties, You need to do your homework. here's a few things you need to keep in mind so you don't look like a complete douchenozzle.
1. Know Your Bar
Do some research on what bar you're wanting to get your drink on at. It has to have the atmosphere you're willing to put up with.
For example, if you're a jazz man...
No hipsters allowed.
...you wouldn't want to walk in to this:
A metal bar. Because I just happened to find the one kind of bar out there that Google doesn't have a fucking image for.
Or if you're of the sports bar crowd...
The guy on the tele knows what's up...
...how would you handle winding up here:
I'd probably huddle in a corner and cry my eyes out from fear and being disturbed.
The music is as equally important. For example, when you show up at a bar all E'd up and ready to rave, but you end up somewhere that plays this:
I love country music, don't get me wrong, but this shit makes me want to shoot my dog and slit my fucking wrists.
The patrons are also important to know. If you're as white as a fresh virgin snow and you're in to hip-hop, go to your local college strip bar's hip hop night. Unless you have the street cred of one Marshal Mathers, going to the local hip hop spot may leave you with serious injury, or in the lead role of the next interracial gangbang movie.
And no, I am not making this shit up
...but Lord knows the rest of us want you to.
2. Know Your Drinks
This is as equally important as knowing your bar. Now, I'm not talking about knowing your types of beer and liquor (which, you need to anyway), but the drinks themselves.
The main rule to remember out of all of them is this: no pussy drinks.
Okay, I'll let this one slide.
For the love of God, unless it hits like a runaway Mack truck on an ice-slicked Colorado mountain road, don't you DARE put that frilly drink or fruity shot to your lips. For example, I had a shot a few weeks back called a Fuck Bin Laden. It had blueberry liquor, vodka and Red Bull in it. Yes, it was fruity as hell, but one shot put me about three pints of beer into drunkenness. If it doesn't hit like that, preserve your MAN status and get a goddamn beer.
If you want a wine cooler, it had better be in the form of MadDog 20/20. If you want to be a real man, put down the Jager and drink some goddamn scotch. You want real beer? Leave the moose piss alone and drink something seasonal (I prefer Blue Moon in the summer and stout in the winter), but you can't go wrong with any manly beer like Guinness or anything from Germany. You say you want a mixed drink? Get an old fashioned, a screw driver, or order some Flaming Dr. Peppers and have every girl at the bar cream their lacy white panties. If you want to have a martini, you drink that sonofabitch like James Bond or Hawkeye Pierce: like a fucking manly martini.
As Alan Alda used to say, "I'd like a dry martini, Mr. Quoc, a very dry martini. A very dry, arrid, barren, desiccated, veritable dustbowel of a martini. I want a martini that could be declared a disaster area. Mix me just such a martini."
That means no daiquiris...
Yeah, just keep winking in the camera to hide the fact some gang of black guys gave you pinkeye.
...and no frilly fruity martinis...
This guy must suck at giving head (pun definitely intended). I mean, look at his lips! It's like he's not even trying to act seductive and/or pick up on some drunk guy!
...unless this is your idea of a night out with the boys:
Sounds sssssthuper!
And guys, unless you're at a fine restaurant, at a New Year's party or at a special occasion, NO CHAMPAGNE!
The one exception to this rule is if you are making the most goddamn manly drink I've ever heard of, a drink concocted by the great Earnest Hemingway himself: Death in the Afternoon.
I think I just heard lightning crackle in the background. Nevermind, it came from the drink. No, wait...
Now, you're asking yourself, "TEP, how can you think that even Hemingway can make champagne MANly?" Well, pull the bloody cotton tube out of your cunt and I'll tell you.
According to AskMen.com, Death in the Afternoon was named after Hemingway's 1935 nonfiction account of Spanish bullfighting by the same name. He published this drink in a book of celebrity drink recipes with the following instructions:
That's right bitches, he mixed his champagne with absinthe.
"Pour one jigger of absinthe into a champagne glass. Add iced champagne until it attains the proper opalescent milkiness. Drink three to five of these slowly."
Mother.
Fucking.
Absinthe.
Wow, how's this for a magic carpet ride, DUDE! YOU MADE OUT WITH YOUR SISTER!
No wonder this fucker shot himself in the head, he drank so much of le nectar de la virilité that he lost his fucking mind from being so goddamn verile. Take the time to look up this fucker's adventures and you'll see what I mean. He makes The (so-called) Most Interesting Man In The World look like Ralph Wiggum.
And whoop his ass like the roody-poo that he is.
In conclusion, if you want to walk the walk in the bar scene, you gotta talk the talk: with MANly alcohol. And, if I see any of you fuckers at a table with some frilly umbrella drink and it's not goddamn Margaritaville, I will come up behind you and give you an epidural of Coors Original from the keg and show you what the fuck a real drink is.
And ladies, I saved the best advice for last. Here's all you need to know about drinking at bars: drink a lot and give some lucky man a piece of that poontang pie.
Because nothing mixes better than man's two longtime addictions: alcohol and pie.
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