“Love potions do not equal consent. Coercion through magic is illegal. Combined with the use of love potions it is rape.”
Oh, if only those Steubenville rapists could have gotten reported to the Ministry Of Magic. Or should I say those Lord Voldemorts. [The Mary Sue]
This Sunday is St. Patrick’s Day, a holiday which holds many different meanings for different religious and ethnic groups, but for many young people, it’s generally interpreted as “The Day We All Get Super Drunk At Noon.” And so, in the spirit of overindulgence, I thought I’d take a moment to ask the rest of The Frisky staff about their random drunk talents — the things we can’t do (or at least can’t do very well) sober, but we excel at after a few martinis. Check out our list after the jump, and please share your own drunk skills in the comments! Keep reading »
“So, this is kind of a random question…”
I nodded my head at the man across from me. I was in the kitchen of a fellow parent from my child’s school. I had come to pick my son up from a playdate, and found myself hanging around making small talk while the kids finished up playing. Between multiple playdates and a few shared meals, we had become friendly with this family and had reached the level of Facebook friends and random text exchanges. I was curious what his random question could entail.
“Do you … well … do you know where I could get some pot?” Keep reading »
It always starts the same way: “Come out for drinks!”
Maybe, I think to myself. I need to do more research.
“What’s the name of the place?” I ask. ”O’Dooley’s Irish McIrishman Pub,” someone says.
I get a pit in my stomach. I fire up Google. I find the page on MenuPages. My fears are confirmed: yup, this place only serves beers and offers a dinky wine list.
“I’m going to pass,” I say.
“But come onnnnnnnnn. You never come ouuttttttt,” someone whines. That’s because I want to go somewhere where I can get a fucking fancy cocktail. Keep reading »
We’re embracing Sober January. And for good reason. The other night we had two glasses of wine at a work happy hour and woke up with wicked hangovers. This can only mean one thing: our lady drinker lifespan has come to end. Time to mourn the drinking days of our youth. After the jump, our drunk memories … may they rest in peace. Keep reading »