Sleep, my pretty, sleep the sleep of babies and princes. And don't get broken glass wedged into your cheeks.
Yeah, they're writing on his passed-out tummy, but even funnier is that someone is chosing French fries over further shaming their pal. Now that's a true friend. Or someone's just hungry.
Sleep, my pretty, sleep. Your ass, my good man, is grass.
There's a certain goofy endearment to this photo, which expresses the unbridled sensation one experiences after chugging his seventh tequila shooter of the night.
Super Mario Brothers: the aloholic years.
For the love of a sweet, just God, doesn't this man look like he's enjoying this just a tad too much. Oh, booze. You make men evil. EVIL!
There's something entirely disconcerting about watching folks dressed as childhood video game characters, stumbling around trashed. What's next, a Sonic the Hedgehog sex video?
And my girlfriend wonders why I love football so much. It's because it allows bearded midgets to get rip-roaring soused in public. Viva public intox!
From the dark recesses of college debauchery, does anyone else recall the glory that was the game "box head"? Basically, it was a card game. If you lost, you had to wear a box on your head and drink. A lot. It was basically a vehicle for intoxication, but then again, isn't everything in life?
Help me figure this out: What is that weird blueness surrounding her mouth? And lord, I'm betting this boozing ended badly. Very badly.