alcohol

The 21 Christmas decorations your home needs, my fellow inebriates

OMG, my fellow inebriates, can you believe it? My parents have really let me down this season. I’m supposed to be commandeering Oprah’s Favorite Things, showing you how to make nasty liqueurs out of cheap Canadian whisky, and being the usual nuisance. But my parents SUCK, they really do. Supposedly there is just no time for poor little LB and his capsizing blog.

I’m practicing typing with my paws, but you know, it kind of looks like this:

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So….until the alcohol starts flowing again at LBHQ, here are some lovely ideas for making your holidays festive. Martha Stewart would envy this stuff, my fellow inebriates!

decorations

Yet another reason to eschew solids

This goes double for my mother, who only rarely succeeds in making pancakes without forgetting an ingredient (flour, anyone?). I’m sticking to beer, my fellow inebriates. If only we could buy beer at Walmart.1450074_10151729015371459_1134124206_n

WELCH’S GRAPE JUICE—What the hell is this??

The day my precious Canadian Cream got poured down the sink, something inside of me died.

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It’s been hard to get back on track, my fellow inebriates, especially with the thumb-equipped humans in the house preoccupied with NaNoWriMo and Candy Crush Saga respectively. So much so that booze has been forgotten. OMG! And that’s why today’s review is not of booze but of something that <*sniff*> could have been booze.

Yes, I found the wretched stuff on the counter beside a Webkinz dog painfully tethered to a paper-towel holder, hanging from which were two Chihuahuas. If you think that sounds like Miss V’s work, you’re correct.

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124So what’s the deal with WELCH’S GRAPE JUICE? It kind of looks like wine, especially when poured into a nice crystal glass. But it’s all a lie, MFI. V says it’s “yummy,” and perhaps it is if you’re six, but if you’re an eight-year-old alcoholic bear, it’s a little glass of torture. It’s everything that could have been…

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