misunderstanding is the mother of lexicography. this has never been more true than the other night - or true at all, for that matter. some highly inebriated patrons of the bar i frequent had seen nacho and i rocking out on a shitty late night public access t.v. show and called me to come down so the could buy me booze for this amazing accomplishment. i was quite stoked at the prospect of free hooch and i told roach that we had to bounce so i could recieve my accolades. she misheard me and in an attempt to correct my precieved syntax faux pas said "did you just say alccolades? with an L?" i then explained that no, that was not the case and if she ever attempted to correct my speech again she would see the back of me hand. then, for good measure, i proceeded to beat her mercilessly anyway because i'm a jerk and beating women is what i do, yo. anywho, whilst tending to her many wounds, we both decided that the word "alcohlades" should indeed exist.
alcohlades
pronunciation: ahl-koh-laydz
function: noun
defenition: 1.) accolades recieved in the physical form of alcohol 2.) accolades recieved by an intoxicated human being who, if sober, would not have been impressed by the accomplishments which he/she is now, in his/her inebriated state, utterly amazed by
sentence usage:
dude: way to rock my ass at darts. let me buy you a drink.
me: thanks. your alcohlades are appreciated, good sir.
alcohlades. know it. use it. love it. dickweeds.

in other news, a couple of moons back, paul 2.0 and i were very hungry and the dungeon (our apartment) was lacking in all forms of conceivably edible sustenance (except for some kraft singles and a pack of ramen) so we took a walk to the store (7-11). 2.0 suggested the novel idea of procuring milk and cookies for consumption as it had been quite some time since this combination of food stuffs had grazed either of our lips, stomachs, or colons. being that it was two in the morning and we are two degenerate youths, we were quickly and expectedly the recipiants of many snide "munchies" jokes from the 7-11 clerk. we attempted to explain to him that in all actuallity, despite assumptions constantly made based on our appearances, sleeping habits, and choice of food, we do not, in fact, participate in the smoking, snorting, injecting, ingesting, or freebasing or any form of illegal substance. as per usual, this was dismissed as pure balderdash - poppycock, if you will.
on the walk home we decided that it would probably be in our best interests to just go ahead and start smoking a lot of weed. all the time. the world's populace already assumes we do and we figure it's the only way for two young douchebags such as ourselves, ages 23 and 24 respectively, to justify our lifestyles which revolve heavily around shitty go-nowhere jobs, cartoons, movies, video games, network t.v., bafflingly crude humor, comic books, and yes - the occasional wild night of milk and cookies.
witness, if you will, the magical metamorphasis that we will under go.
this is 2.0 and myself on a typical saturday night:

...and this is 2.0 and myself on a typical saturday night once we're goddamned dirt-heads:

simply fucking amazing.