I’m drunk right now. I will only answer the questions when I am drunk. Go ahead and whatever you want.
What’s the meaning of life?
To me, right now, the meaning of life is enjoying yourself and trying to spread your DNA as much as possible. Oh, also art and souls stuff and crap.
You’re not at the U of C by any chance?
nope, U of Iowa.
In clapping both hands, a sound is made. What is the sound of one hand?
Oh, and what are the individual merits of Coke and Pepsi?
I think one must be very skilled to make any sound to produce a sound with one hand, if snapping doesnt count. I one could, it would probably sound like a pussy-ass version of a two hand clap.
Coke is better than Pepsi because of marketing. All other distinction is meaningless.
You gonna be my lucky star?
How much have you had to drink? Are you wearing pants? Wouldn’t it be more satisfying to send a rambling drunken email to all your friends and acquaintances than to wait for more questions?
You ever had to take “the walk of shame”?
I have had somewhere in the area of 9 shots of cheap vodka. I have on comfortable jeans. I suppse, but if strangers want to be entertained by me, I’m totally up for it. Plus, I want to draw attention to myself.
I will totally be your lucky star, but I’ve not yet taken the walk of shame. One nighters arent my style. i.e. I cant get laid.
Why can’t you get laid?
Indeed, if you cannot find a willing mate, you’re fishing pole is above the wrong pond!
During the 80’s, I visited Iowa several times on business and noted a number of attractive ladies in the Cedar Rapids area. One lovely was from Muscatine, and although petite, her front reminded me of a 50’s Cadillac, with the prominent chromed bumper bullets.
Ah, thank you for the memories, and words which sound similar.
Did you get drunk when the Hawkeyes were stomped in the Orange Bowl?
What is the walk of shame? I must know . . .
The walk of shame, at least here in the UK, is having to walk back to your own place, wearing what you were wearing last night because you spent the night at the residence of the person you ended up pulling that night.
When I was in Cambridge, this “shame” was further exacberated by the number of formal (i.e. black tie) dinners we had. On more than one occasion I’ve ended up walking, albeit very early on a Saturday morning (hey, I had lectures to go to at 9!), back to my place in an evening gown
I see, so it applies to women. Because for guys it seems more like the walk of triumph!