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Last Five Hangovers...
The Ten Thousand Dollar Choking Hazard - 2004-12-09
Mixing Advice - 2004-10-24
A Grave Injustice - 2004-09-27
A Short History of the Bloody Mary (in My Life) - 2004-07-31
If You Build It, We Will Come - 2004-07-19

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So, there is one slight hitch in our master plan of completely inappropriate behavior: We are not, at heart, inherently inappropriate people.

Both nights this weekend, we set out cheerfully expecting to rue the moment we ordered our first cocktail. So debauched would we be, we'd actually have to be judicious about what tidbits got featured on Drunky But Funky, lest we alarm anyone into calling the police or our parents or AA.

Unfortunately, we have a problem getting rid of our basic paranoia that we are loud, annoying to other people, and in danger of doing something we can't take back. So "inappropriate" usually devolves into "really amusing and pretty fucking random." But that's okay, because as the old proverb goes, "When all else fails, stick your tongue down Dr. No's throat." And the summer is still young, so we have time to shed our inhibitions along with our pants.

Carrie, buoyed by being tied for last in the standings, wisely used this weekend to more than double her total and was unanimously deemed the least appropriate person in the group. After rubbing Dr. No's face in her cleavage on Friday, she made out with him on Saturday, sucked on one of Michael's fingers, stretched out seductively on a couch at an extremely crowded bar, and ordered Dr. No to remove her ankle brace with his teeth. She cleverly followed this up by passing out on her couch at home and waking up only when the cat got spooked, dug its claws into her arm, and then leapt off and ricocheted against several walls before pouring itself a gin and tonic and nursing it tensely in the corner.

Jessica, conversely, languished at the other end of the spectrum. For unknown and utterly incomprehensible reasons � something about a stomach ache and lightheadedness, or some insane made-up disease like that � she drank only club soda on Saturday night and is therefore under intense peer pressure to debauch herself next weekend, when Drunky But Funky takes its act to Las Vegas.

Michael's mishap on Friday night is precisely the reason we didn't give him the password for the site, or instructions on how to edit entries: We can cruelly deny him his right to censor. Michael spent the evening in his apartment with a crowd of people who, although not official Known Associates Of Drunky But Funky, still enabled his outrageous side by encouraging him to shotgun several beers. He repaid this display of bad judgment by first making himself the center of attention, then shotgunning a beer, and finally burping it up so hard that he threw up a tiny bit. Just a dribble. But this being both completely disgusting and wholly embarrassing for Michael � who, as a skeleton, additionally lacks the meat to absorb any alcohol � we've awarded him with the week's Holy Shit, That's What Toilets Are For, And Also, That's Gross award.

"I did have sense enough to clear a path to the sink BEFORE I shotgunned, and I did warn people, but it was still really sick," Michael says. "It was like I projected a double-sized loogie into the sink without having to hock it up."

Sexy.

It was still a booze-sodden weekend in which two bars (Cat & Fiddle, and 4100 Club in Silver Lake) were closed out, two cab drivers got rich, and too much alcohol begat too little volume control. The latter point is perhaps most painfully evidenced by the looks we got during our hours-long game of Marry, Fuck, Kill. The short version: Heather fucked Yanni, and everyone agreed that it was completely logical to marry the guy with boobs and a penis.

Carrie: See above. Total: 17.

Heather: Four points for Friday night, including humping the dinner table to the tune of "Call Me" by Blondie and looking when Jessica vowed to flash her nipple; one retroactive point for remembering that she deep-throated a beer bottle on demand at the bowling alley a while back; two points for snapping Lauren's thong; one point for not pursuing any ex sex, because everyone is supposed to have ex sex; for being so drunk that she forgot she got drunk-dialed three times by Dan. Total: 9.

Jessica: Two points for half-flashing her nipple on Friday; one point for nibbling Dr. No's ear; one point for wearing no underwear at all; one point for mouthifying her bottle of pear cider. Zero points on Saturday, for her unfathomable commitment to sobriety. Total: 5.

Lauren: One point for briefly kissing Aletha to get points, a strategy of deliberateness that is inappropriate in and of itself; two points for flashing her thong all night by accident; four points for unbuttoning her pants to show off the front of said Victoria's Secret "Angel" thong. ("She did that?" Jessica asked. "Oh yeah," Heather replied. "Heavens!� So to speak," Jessica said.) Total: 7.

Michael: Ten points for the aforementioned puke-burp, as he made sure to command the attention of the room before shotgunning the beer that sealed his fate. One point for making a jealous girl leave the bar in a huff after she spite-tongued Dr. No in front of him. One point for getting that drunk Friday night (his shampoo effect was so strong, he was drunk again within half an hour of arriving at 4100 Club on Saturday) without even leaving his apartment. Total: 12.

Honorable mention: Dr. No, for running the greatest scam in the world. By dint of being absolutely delightful and professing his total commitment to homosexuality, he proceeded to make out with five of the six women in his company on Saturday night, one of them (Heather) twice.