Drunk Dialing the "Big Boss"

If you ever get drunk (and you do), then you should be all too familiar with how sometimes, in the throes of a drunken stupor, your frequent trips to Imaginationland can become all too real. 

For example, there's that time you imagined that the girl at the summer barbecue wore a muumuu because it allowed her to move freely, not because normal human clothes no longer fit her. It took you two days to recover from the sexual beating, but then you got drunk again and imagined you were a better man for having weathered her... blows.

Sometimes drunken revelries make good stories to share with the guys. You can sit around the bedfire swapping stories and body fluids while the sun sets, then claim that you weren't kissing you were just "whispering something into his mouth."

Then there's the generally bad decisions, like when you profess your love to your buddy's fiancée because you mistook her shaming glances for the "sexy eye." The resulting persecution can be the source of public humiliation. But public shaming can be an uplifting experience. Look what it did for Jesus:

Look at that hang-time!

What!? You don't believe in Jesus or his pop-pop? Me either. I had "atheism" tattooed onto all my sleeves for god's sake... and onto my dog's ass for my dog's sake. It makes him a badass.

"I'm drunk, I'm about to do something horrible. I should pray about this."

God, that is such a bad idea. But if you must do it, remember to tread lightly, like a pair of high-fashion heels at a gay pride parade. You've been ignoring the big fella for your entire life, so if he does exist, he's pissed, perhaps vengeful. Don't go and start believing that the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Tim Tebow is alive inside of you and wants to hear all of your hopes and dreams. Do you remember that girl you were "dating" in college, the one that you'd only call when you were blowing a .15 and above? Remember how happy that made her? It didn't. Now picture her with a white beard, a full quiver of lightning-tipped arrows, and thousands of years of pent up "you act like I don't exist" rage.

"Hope you catch my ThunderClap!"

God's a righteous dude. His pain-inflicting days ended with Job and started again with Michael Douglas.  God is going to take your prayers and sell them to the devil for pennies on the Euro. If you ask him for help hooking up with the gravy goat wearing the Forever 21 earrings, he'll give her to you for a wife alright, but she's going to have crabs. And her crabs are going to have crabs. And she's going to make you eat them both, every day, until the Devil wears Prada. And let's be honest, the Devil would rather ask God for a raise in his allowance (1 million souls per fiscal second).