Thursday, January 29, 2009

10 Possible Drunk Characters From My Youth

Looking over this blog I realize that I won't be able to update as much as possible with non-shenanigans because 1)I'm staying in more for monetary reasons and 2)I'm getting old. As the late, great Bernie Mac would say, My body weary. Instead, I will try to provide little updates, articles or just randomness once or twice a week if I do not go out. If you are looking for something to actually read go here or something non-drink related from my life go here.

If not, sit back and enjoy my idle mind as we discuss cartoon characters that I'm pretty sure were hitting the sauce on the low.

Now, I know what you are saying:
"Sean, the cartoon characters from when we were little were just enjoyment for children. They weren't doing adult things like drinking. Come on, guy."

First off, don't call me guy. What am I? Canadian, buddy?
Secondly, oh really?
Look at these folks and tell me they weren't preparing you to deal with the adult world and all its issues....


Gay Marriage.

Date Rape.

Jump-offs, D-Bags, Slackers and Cheating.

So, it comes as no surprise to me that the makers of my 1980s children entertainment also introduced characters that were probably abusing alcohol when no one was looking. (Don't EVEN let me get started with the boozers on Transformers- I'm looking at you, Spike and Grimlock) Sorry to destroy your cherished memories of these childhood stars.

Here are my top ten suspects of undercover cartoon drinkers....

1. BLUEGRASS Silverhawks were basically Thundercats in space but I still liked them. They were started by a grizzled, old, one-eyed cop who wanted to combat space pirates, particularly Mon*Star, who was obviously a gussied up version of Mumm-Ra. The Silverhawks could fly and live in space and had a ship named Maraj (pronounced Mirage but you couldn't spell it the right way because it was the '80s and everyone was on coke).

All the Silverhawks were kinda cool knock-offs of the Thundercats. Even the annoying one who spoke in whistles and gave tests at the end of the show was basically a knock-off of Wily Kat. So they were all cool except for one lonely heart.


Let’s see- can’t fly. Space cowboy. Plays a synthesizer/guitar that turns into a metal bird sometimes.

Yeah, he is drinking whatever is the future version of MGD or at least Boone’s Farm. Probably the latter- Bluegrass sorta seems like a lightweight.

2. JEM Jem is the rock star alter-ego of Jerrica Benton(Jerrica? Was she supposed to be black?). She is helped out with her fabulous life by her computer built by her DEAD father called Synergy and her band, The Holograms (Again, it was the '80s). She also operates a music store/record label, has beef with another band and runs a house for foster girls.

Truly outrageous indeed.

She is a HUGE rockstar. This easily translates to drugs, sex and alcohol. On top of that she has an alter ego that she keeps secret. Why? I don't know. I do know that drinking is an easy way for her to cope with the fame, fortune, do-goodering, DEAD DAD and secret identity.

Along with 'ludes and maybe coke. I mean just ask Tony Stark.

Hey, Jem-baby. Where you going? I got the Quinjet, mama.

I’m guessing a lot of vodka and wine coolers when she isn’t in Jem mode and is plain old Jerrica "I Got A DEAD Pops" Benton.

Alex= hater.

That’s it.

It’s that simple.

Can you imagine her daily life- she has skunk hair like her cat, she is jealous of a group of horrible pop princesses called Josie and the Pussycats, her cowardly brother works for these girls, she has a crush on Josie’s boyfriend, she is talentless, can’t sing, can’t play a note and her only real friend is a cat called Sebastian.
A damn cat named Sebastian.

Yeah, she drinks Wild Turkey. Daily. With her cat. And probably hates on Jem, too.

4. GARGAMEL The Smurfs are, and I'm guessing here, some sort of little blue demon or rat species with a limited vocabulary who live in a village in a forest somewhere. Probably France. Gargamel is an expert at alchemy that has a mad on for them.

So, let me get this straight. You are an evil wizard that has magical powers yet you get beat by little blue guys with berets and white pants.

C’mon, man. They are three apples tall for chrissakes.

Maybe that’s why you live in a shack with your dirty cat, Azrael. Plus, are you trying to catch the Smurfs to eat them or make gold with them? I’m confused.
AND I seem to remember a time or two when you needed Papa Smurf to help get you out of a jam. That must suck as bad as your bald spot.
He drinks Olde English every time the Smurfs one up him. That’s a lot of 40s.

5. DR. CLAW The archenemy of Inspector Gadget, a bumbling detective, Dr. Claw is the leader of M.A.D., which either stands for Mean And Dirty or Malevolent Agency of Destruction. I think the latter is cooler so it's probably the former. Either way it is a generic terrorist group highly into marketing.

Hey. What is up with all these loser villains having cats?

You are an idiot Dr. Claw. You promote the hell out of M.A.D. and get beat out by an…, hell, I don’t know. Is Inspector Gadget an android or something? How the hell does helicopter rotor blades come out of his head?

Anyway, so you and your henchmen lose to this asshat all the time and that should make you feel bad.

Actually. Wait.

You don’t EVEN lose to the inspector- you lose to his pre-teen daughter and her dog.

Masters of Disguise.

Are you shitting me? A little girl and her mutt?
“Next time”, indeed. I'm not even sure this guy is a real doctor either.
And, really? M.A.D. Cat? You couldn't come up with something a tad more creative?

He drinks Mad Dog 20/20 because he is a douche like that. Get rid of the cat.


Just look at him. I mean…Jesus. I’ll buy him a round.
I’m sure Eeyore drinks Jack Daniel’s as Winnie eats his 587th pot of honey.



Like Dumbo, this is another Disney flick that left my little soul a bit depressed as a kid.

Bambi’s life is sadly similar to a lot of people I grew up with.
Mother got shot, father is a dick who is hardly around and puts a lot of pressure on him to be the new Prince of the Forest.
Thanks. No pressure, dad.

Plus his best friend is Thumper.

Will ditch you for a little tail. EVERY FUCKIN' TIME.

HUGE Rabbit Douchebag. Whatever happened to Bros Before Hoes, huh?

No break for Bambi.
So what he doesn't have hands. Tequila is his drink of choice.

I feel your pain, George. I hate that lil punk Dennis.

And his little buddy Joey too. He has shifty eyes. He’s up to something.

You can’t win, buddy. He does whatever the hell he wants and there is no type of discipline coming from the Mitchell parents. They are seriously slacking. And for some strange reason, your wife loves the kid that plagues your life with pain.
She evens feeds the little prick.


You drink Scotch. Nightly.

9. DAFFY DUCK Sure, Elmer Fudd or Wile E. Coyote are the obvious choices for the drinker in Looney Tunes cavalcade of crazy cartoon characters. Hell, even that dog that Foghorn Leghorn messes with all the time seems like the go to boozer. But, in fact, the drunky in this little group is Daffy.

Why, Daffy?
Where to begin?

He usually gets the short end of the stick. It's always Duck Hunting Season in his universe. He has no pants. And he hangs out with a rabbit(See Thumper above).
Ask yourself- what's worse than playing second fiddle to some asshole rabbit?

Oh. Yeah. Sorry, Donald. Least you got a shirt though.

Daffy drinks Absinthe every morning, hence the oddball behavior.

10. RANGER SMITH Do I really gotta explain? He gets outsmarted pretty much daily by a bear in a hat, a collar and a shitty green tie. How is he supposed to be happy with his life if he sucks at his job?

You might think him and Yogi are pals. You would be wrong. Yogi is a user that only stops being a jerk if it can get him ahead, namely with the ladies and some food. Boo Boo is marginally better.

Plus, they are bears. There is a reason why Stephen Colbert made them the number one threat to America.

To top it off, his job would be much simpler if people just simply didn't leave their pic-a-nic baskets out in the open and paid attention to Jellystone Park rules of conduct. But do they? NOOOOOO.

Smug Bear Bastard...

That's why this asshole and his little buddy with the blue bow-tie always get a good meal.

He drinks Budweiser at the local pub and moonshine at his house while he dreams of being this dude and happily poppin' a cap in Yogi's fat ass.

Goodbye, Mr. Bear.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Art and Nachos

As I'm committed to continue my normal outings, I decided to go to an art show hosted by my friends at They do a roughly monthly art show in the Bellagio at Caramel Bar and Lounge. It's a good place to chill and drink and talk. The music isn't too loud and the people who come in are an eclectic mix at most times. Good people and some people watching make these events fun even without the art.

This week's show was for Brian Swanson, an amazing local Las Vegas artist. His work looks good from far but appears like other basic paintings. On closer inspection you realize that they are intricately detailed and textured like crazy.

Good stuff right here. Click it to enlarge.

Good art, good venue, good friends.

Let's get to the good stuff....

So, I arrive maybe a half hour after opening. I lucked up and got a ride from a co-worker pal on her way to a rally (translation= rally for five minutes, then bar). Get to the door and I'm greeted by UAD1* and his wife KITTYKAT (you have to say it fast like they did in Wedding Crashers). I love these two and they told me they are both also giving up the sweet embrace of Lady Liquor as well. Cool. I always appreciate fellow teetotalers (never imagined I would actually EVER use that word). We talk about how when you tell people you are abstaining from drinking they always ask why and how it can be hard in this town. I mean, you can get beer for a buck or two and margaritas for the same price. I've been bent before off of $12 in this town. It's nuts.

I go inside with KITTYKAT and run into Capt. Sparrow who is taking pics and enjoying what looks like a great drink. He tells me this is the first time since his birthday he is drinking.

(Backstory- Sparrow's birthday was a lil while back. I came to his party at Caramel planning to stay for a short time, ended up at Bank, brought him Jager shots and danced with a sweet, classy nice bride and her trashy friends all night. Good times but paid for it the next day)

I order a $4 Sprite and chill out. Yeah. $4. Corona is $6. Huh?

Me chilling out with KK. Not drinking. Staring into space.

It was funny that KK observed that the Vodka at this event was free for her and included mixer but she had to pay for non-liquor based drinks. So, basically, you are penalized for not drinking. Oh, joy.

As we are sitting there acting much more subdued than normal, KK notices a huge bald guy walk pass us to meet other big guys.

She thinks he might be a MMA fighter which is common in this town and I also remark he looks familiar. Hmmm....

Just then, UAD2 enters and offers me a drink, tongue-in-cheek. Gotta love the support of guys. I notice women (not all though) are much more supportive in my endeavor than men. Not unexpected I guess. I just reply thanks in my sarcastic way and go back to enjoying the richness and vibrancy that is Sprite.
Eventually, we move to a couch with vodka and mixers and are joined by Capt. Sparrow and Smoove.

I switch up to cranberry juice. I gotsta keep regular, folks.

Something is missing but what? What is it?

Oh. Yeah.

I'm still chatting and thinking about who that guy is that looks like a MMA fighter. I'm also realizing two things about me and drinking.
1- Time is MUCH SLOWER when I'm sober. I was maybe in this place for 40 minutes and I was already thinking about leaving. It wasn't that it was a bad event at all. Very fun and enjoyable but my mind was on other things as opposed to when I drink and I'm just about the now.
2- I get hungry. I mean VERY hungry. I guess when I was drinking before I was just concerned with how much beer and vodka I could get down my gullet. Or I just drank Guinness and got filled up.

Guinness- Mmmmm. It drinks like a loaf of bread.

UAD1 comes in and asks me if that tall dude from earlier with the other huge necked guys looks like Brian Urlacher. I look again and say I think it is.

It is Urlacher.

Classy. Play some football, man.

Celebrity spotting of the night is okay and that dude eventually leaves with the farmboy squad. Shortly after, a douchebag troupe enters, including a guy who looks suspiciously like one of these guy's little brother. Porn-stache and all.

Thoughts flashing through my head-
"I'm hungry."
"It's not the 70s. Why do you have facial hair like John Holmes?"
"Burgers or nachos?"
"Wish I had more cash. I would like to own some art."
"Scotch, scotch, I love scotch."
"Got work tomorrow. Should leave."
"Hope it's not raining."

I end up saying goodbye to everyone and leaving.
It's raining.

I decide to go for Irish nachos so that means I end up at McMullan's Pub. Order a small order and a Sprite. (which is free there and you other bars should take the hint)
As I wait, the manager comes up to me and ask if I'm feeling alright. I tell him I'm feeling much better than the last time he saw me when I was asleep at one of his tables. I'm classy like that, San Diego.
I get my order and on my way out I run into two people who look familiar. I realize it is two members of the group of people I met that same night who got me shots of Jager. The guy thanks me and I'm like what for. He tells me I helped pick him up when he busted his ass while at the bar that night.


Yeah. Feeling better about this whole not drinking thing more and more daily. No more forgetting and definitely not the dude getting picked up off the floor.

That, my friends, is a good look. A VERY good look, indeed.

*- Told you I would start changing names and blacking out photos. Not a liar. Mostly.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Of Course.....

Since I'm not drinking this becomes the time when I start to get invited out by people I haven't heard from in a while.

For example, out of the blue I get a text message from this woman I haven't heard from in a few months. I'm talking since like the first weekend that Dark Knight came out.
Yeah. That long ago.
She tells me that her and her new roommate are going out to celebrate her roommate's birthday.

Now, I don't know her new roommate but I know her. She is wild. WILD, SON. That tells me all I need to know. She says "dancing and drinking" but that means, I don't know, I'm thinking....

The Bacchanalia by Auguste Leveque. Get some art in your life, kid.

So, yeah, I'm REAL hesitant about even thinking about hanging out with her tonight.

Then, one of my co-workers apparently has won a party at a pub in a casino tonight where they are paying for a bulk of the drinks.

What the fuck?

Where were these experimenting women when I could enjoy their time or at least attention?
Where were these events with cheap/free booze a month ago?
Is this a sick cosmic joke?

You are a dick, sir. A dick I say.

The final nail in the coffin....

Super Bowl Sunday is next week.

That's like the fourth day of the year where you are supposed to drink heavily for no TRULY valid reason. *
C'MON! I mean they are sponsored by beer AND horses.

See? Beer even encourages racial harmony.

I should calm down. This is the decision that I made and I must stick to my guns if for no other reasons than it's good for me and I have naysayers.

I'm gonna stick with it.

Sorry for calling you a dick, God. My bad, dude.

"It's cool, Sean. Just don't do it again or I'll erase your hard drive. Or I'll just smite yo' ass, Old Testament Style."


Jesus, what a touchy prick.

And why does God sound like Sam Jackson? Weird.

* The top 3 other days are New Year's (Chinese or otherwise), Cinco De Mayo and St. Patrick's Day. Although, to be fair, some of you folks' families push Thanksgiving and Christmas STRAIGHT TO THE TOP.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Inaugural Bash (My Head In)

Two days ago we elected a new president and in the fine tradition of America and everything that is right with this country that meant one thing-


Unfortunately, I had begun my non-drinking campaign already. Still, I was dedicated to enjoying the camaraderie of my fellow Obamaniacs/Obamanites (what the hell do you call them?). I had signed up for this event last week and it had been a minute since I went to Blush, a nice lounge with an outside patio area at the Wynn. I also was not about break my rule about attending events just because I couldn't drink. I would toast to President Obama with some water and try to enjoy my time.

I show up a little after 9 pm and enter the event with no problem. It's still pretty early but the bar is still crowded. Democrats and liberals sure can drink. Not as much as conservative Republicans but they can get down for theirs. I take the time to absorb my surroundings a bit and see who is here. There is definitely more Black people out tonight, most skewing towards their 40s with pockets of mid-20s girls in groups of three. As usual at these Obama political events, we have our twenty-something white women. So, yeah, minor potential for good times.

I eventually make it to the bar and order a Sprite.

Bartender- "Is that it? Not mixing it with something?"
Me- "No, ma'am. Sober night."

I don't know if the look she gives me comes from not ordering alcohol in a bar or for me calling a woman in her early 30s "ma'am" but she gives me the most expensive soda ever and moves on to someone ordering red wine.

I turn away from the bar and give the place the walk-through. It's a dark venue so you really can't see anyway unless you stare or get close, a quality which has worked for me in the past. As I'm walking through, the first thought that goes through my head is this-
"Yup. Probably leaving here early."

Not to say that it wasn't going to be a good party. With a free champagne for everyone that came that night it had the potential to turn into a rocking good time but I was sober and had work the next day. Plus, I happen to, as it always seems to happen, get the rowdiest dude in the party to come and hang with me. Just standing there drinking soda and suddenly I have a short black dude from Chicago who has pre-gamed like a motherfucker with one of those annoying blue tooth headsets flashing in his ear telling me his life story.

Did I ask to hear it? No.
Did I say "come over and teach me about minor pimping, being a soldier and plans on getting free drinks" for at least a half-hour? No, can't say I requested that.

Now, I got this dude talking to me complaining about the lack of food at a free event and telling everyone "this is my boy". Fun times. I let him go on and he gets this white South African guy involved in dialogue (who makes the horrendous but predictable joke about us being 'African-Americans'-HARDEE-FRAKKIN'-HAR) and that guy ends up offering to buy us drinks.

Whoa. Wait up.

This only happens when I'm sober. If I was drinking my ass off, no kindly older gentleman who looked like Mr. Drummond from Diff'rent Strokes would offer to buy me drinks. Unless he wanted something else....

Whatchu talkin' bout indeed, my lil friend.

I pass on the drink and ultimately this new guy leaves and it's back to me and my new friend who is now encouraging me to dance with a CLEARLY intoxicated older lady on the floor.

Recreation of actual events. Except she was blond.

You ever see that Nicholas Cage movie Next? No? Ehhh. Figured as much. Only watched in the hopes of seeing some Jessica Biel.

Who the hell still employs you, Nic?

Anyways, it's based on a Philip K. Dick short story about this guy who was precognitive. In the movie, Cage's character accomplishes this by living out multiple futures in a blink of an eye. So, basically he sends out himself in several different timelines to find the one that is best for him.

I do this that night. I live out the night in three different versions and come to a conclusion. The first is old hard-drinking Sean. He would go to the bar, order a shot, pound a Corona, get another one and dance with this chick all night. Eventually the beer would work on him and he would have a good time that he would regret the next day.


Next I played out sober Sean staying out the night and seeing how that went. Lot of possibilities but most ended up with me getting home late and being tired the next day. Also, this option included me having to back up my new buddy in a fight that wouldn't be my fault. That was not an option.

Yes, YOU CAN...but I WON'T, son.

Last option was the one I ultimately chose. I gave this dude a pound, got my last Sprite from the disbelieving bartender and went home.

I don't know how the rest of the evening would have shook out but I figure I REALLY wouldn't have missed out on much. Same shit, different day. I enjoyed a Whopper, met this nice group of folks from upstate New York and was in my house at a reasonable hour.

God, that sounded old. Sobriety is gonna be tough.

Okay, so I'm not going to do my usual Pub Thursday tonight. Instead I'll be attending an art show where I usually have a minimum of 3 beers. Tune in to see how that shakes out.

PS- Oh and I have to say I was not stopped by the cops as I walked home for once. Instead I was asked by a portly black gentleman with glasses and some brown paper bag who came up to me out of breath and told me he had been chasing me for about 2 blocks. When I asked why he said-
"I wanted to see if you had any dope. You selling?"
This is not the first time this has happened to me and I have to keep asking myself why.....

Oh. Yeah. I look kinda like that. That's why.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

CRAP On a Stick!

Just realized that I'm starting this non-drinking thing on the year where I'm turning 30 as well as a vast majority of my friends are as well.
Add to that that I'm supposed to be someone's Best Man this year and I got another level of debauchery for the bachelor party to plan without me getting plastered.


This is going to be a long hard year. Don't you agree, Starbuck?

Well, you're no help.

I Drink Sprite Out of Spite

Let me give a quick introduction for all of y'all who are new. I have an Irish name, drink Guinness like an Irish man, Coronas like a Mexican, rum like a Caribbean, vodka like a Russian and 40s like a Black Man in the mid-1990s.
No. Wait. That's offensive.
Let's just say I drink like a bloody Scot at times and leave it at that.

Anyway, this is all to say I drink a lot. Mostly on weekends and I have had plans to cut down a huge deal this year. Plan was working alright.....

Then this past week happened. It was not necessarily too much alcohol consumption....ok, it was and it occurred on nights that I had planned on not even drinking.
This resulted in-

- Doing something foolish in my room (not declaring that one publicly)
- Telling my roommate off (deserved but still)
- Randomly getting the number of some woman from Arkansas whose face I don't remember
- Leaving my ID at the local pub
- Falling asleep at a table at the local pub
- Missing the return of BSG (most upset at that one)
- Foolhardy food purchases at 1 AM

After waking up hard on Saturday for work and sleeping most of the remainder of the weekend away, I decided to make a wise but tough decision.

Give up the booze for at least a year.

No more of this, son.

So, I marched my happy arse down to the pub to collect my things and proceeded to drink 4 Sprites and eat some chicken curry. Then, I met my cousin and his friends at Centrifuge in the MGM for drinks. What did I have? More Sprite. I felt good on that Sunday night.

Let's jump to Tuesday, Inauguration Day, a momentous day in history. We got a half-black, metrosexual president from Hawaii.
I was inspired.
I told a handful of my co-workers and some friends that I rededicate myself to having a dry year. Their reactions?

"Are you serious? You?"
"You hang out too much for that."
"I'm starting a pool."
"I got five on it."
"The under/over is four days. I'll take a week."*
"Give me a piece of that action."

Suffice to say I wasn't amused.

See? That's me. Not amused.

I was going to go ahead with my plans regardless of this disbelief in the kid but now I had an extra bonus. No, not money. SPITE

My friends that have known me for awhile know I'll do and or stick to my guns for a number of reasons- to prove my point, because it's the right thing to do, to be contradictory, etc. But the one that usually trumps all of those is SPITE. To prove someone wrong, I'll do whatever is necessary. WHATEVER. Ask my friends- they'll tell you.

This brings me to the purpose of this blog. This is gonna be hard as it is and kinda boring, outside of watching others act a fool. The way I'm gonna get through it is to make it interesting so I decided to keep an online journal of my adventures in sobriety. Plus, having rules and observers will keep me honest.

To make this work there has to be some ground rules which I have come up with-
1) Alcohol of any kind touching my lips counts as me breaking the oath I made. This includes but isn't limited to light beer, beer, vodka, rum, Everclear, Absinthe, gin, whiskey, malt liquor, grain alcohol, all varieties of moonshine and wine. No drinking.
2) The first rule also applies to non-alcoholic beers and wine coolers. (But I don't drink that Kool-Aid and swill anyways so no worries)
3) I will not deviate from my normal schedule of activities. This means that I can't refuse to hang out somewhere because there is liquor there. Still need to hang out with friends and follow my routines. So, I will still go to clubs, house parties, pool parties, cock-fights, lounges, pubs, orgies, etc. as much as I did in the last year but I will not be drinking. You can drink as much as you want though- just don't be surprised that I get pissy at your drunk arse.
4) The date of me officially starting my clean(ish) living is January 20, 2009. I actually started the Saturday before but I want to be fair to all you haters, challengers and skig-skag skallywags.
5) You can choose to try to corrupt me in the following ways- using peer pressure, questioning my manhood, using pretty bartenders/chicks in bikinis/strippers/random midwestern girls to tempt me- but that is douchebag behavior so I hope you won't.
6) Work is a valid excuse if I really am working to not hang out. Work can mean actual work, pursuit of more work or writing. The first two are mostly during the day currently so shouldn't be a factor anyway. The last item has to be valid and proven.
7) When I share a story on here, I must disguise the images, if any, and change the names to protect the guilty. That means you, Shotz. (Although, you'll probably be able to figure out who it is anyway since I'm going to use shite nicknames and maybe a black bar across the eyes for the pics)
8) I must update every Sunday with the non-shenanigans of the week before.

Those are the basics and more may be added later but know this...



Shite. I totally forgot I'm turning 30 this year. That's gonna be a dull, dry party for me I guess.

* okay, it WAS four days that last time but I did go six months booze free before.