Standing on the shoulders of lesser drunks....AN DOOF ASS!

Word on the street is that An Doof Ass has fallen off the sobriety wagon and onto the white horse of cheap Scottish-style scotch drink. For a while I wouldn’t believe the rumors. After all this is the same An Doof Ass who has quit smoking at least 15 times, sworn an undying allegiance to the Jesuits order - twice and trained for a half marathons for like almost a week. In a word, the son of a bitch has staying power. When An Doof Ass puts his mind to something, by golly, it will be at least a week, week and a half, before his incredibly weak constitution requires him to drastically reassess any oath, pledge, vow, promise or allegiance he may have made days, even hours, before.

So, I was justly skeptical when ol’ An Doof Ass was back on the golden cream only days after swearing off the sauce except on major holidays, after A.L.I.A.S. and “during the shakes.” But now I can say with almost complete certainty An Doof Ass is once again on the booze train heading from Whiskey Central all the way to Peach Vodka Valley. How do I know this you find yourself asking? Did I find An Doof Ass back in Chicago punched out on a street corner clutching an empty bottle of Isopropyl alcohol? Or riding a broken 10 speed the wrong way down LaSalle at 3 in the afternoon, his tattered shirt flapping in the wind? Surprisingly, it was none of these, what I like to call, “Classic An Doof Asseries.” No, as much as it pains me to say it, An Doof Ass has grown some during this first year of life procrastination training, I mean, graduate school. He’s much more nuanced now, more graceful, sublte and full of tact.

For you see, An Doof Ass has entered a higher stage of alcohol abuse; a realm reserved for those of us over 24 years old and wise to the ways of the classy cocktail party were one slurred word can mean instant alienation and dirty glances. In this bold new world an alcoholic of An Doof Ass’s skill and college binge training and stamina has only one outlet remaining: The drunken phone message at 3 in the morning. Recently a slurred and very serious An Doof Ass revealed that he has many “hot sexy babes, and no fat chicks” he’s also “totally scoring” and therefore “not sweating it either, but, in facts of it, ruling.”

The truly scary part is at some point in the near future, An Doof Ass will be back in Chicago for “a major holiday.” What debauched, Cosmo induced, self-deception will he enter into at the Bible Tech of Midwest America Technical College Alumni Virgin Margarita Christmas Happy Half-hour? One never knows.