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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

BE A FRIEND OF THE MOVEMENT!

Halfway through 2003, we merry band of boozehounds rededicated our lives to the art of drinking and drunking with a side dish of funking. In addition to giving us a horde of embarrassing photographs that ensure not one of us could ever run for public office, the Drunky But Funky movement has made for a pretty eventful, if tipsy, year.

But as the entertainment industry has repeatedly taught us, no year is officially complete until it's been heralded through the distribution of largely meaningless awards. The Razzies are for film's worst, the Tonys celebrate theater that's completely unfamiliar to anyone outside the New York area, and the Grammys get dished out to whomever shows up, just there so that the music industry feels important and sexy for a day. And to add an extra air of self-indulgence to the process, these awards are given by us, to us, for the purpose of celebrating The Summer of Excessive Drinking And Inappropriate Behavior and The Autumn of Alcoholism and Promiscuity, and all the inappropriate excesses and behavioral drunkenness they encompassed.

We turn up our nose at shiny statuettes, though, so our award won't need polish, nor will it look classy as a bookend/doorstop/paperweight in the bathroom anchoring your stack of magazines and catalogues. No, ours is a trophy that embodies what it means to be a boozer -- a tall testament to the art of the tipple: A lukewarm bottle of Colt .45, lovingly wrapped in a brown bag made of one-hundred percent paper. Yes, we here at Drunky But Funky are pleased to announce the inaugural, annual Forty Awards.

Best Use of Cleavage - General: Carrie's got it, and she knows how to flaunt it. We dare you not to look.

Best Use of Cleavage - Special Occasions: Jessica's shirt on New Year's Eve was so audaciously cut, she needed boob tape. A spectacular display of her assets.

Best Pick-Up Line: This special distinction goes to the owner of O'Briens. When Heather asked him where the pool table disappeared to, he replied, "I know where it is. If you want, I'll show you, and we can have sex on it."

Best Bar Exit: Lauren. After making out with a hot guy and being asked for her phone number, she scribbled it onto a napkin, stuffed it in his back pocket, and then wound up and delivered a bracing slap on the ass as she sailed out the door. She snuck this into the 2003 awards because even though it technically happened in 2004, everyone knows the date doesn't really change until you've fallen asleep and woken up again. So, congratulations, Lauren.

Best Supporting Boozehounds: To the believers in Atlanta -- you know who you are -- who've taken to hitting up gin joints in their hometown, pumping their fists in the air, shouting "WOOOO! DbF BABYYYYYYYY!" in slurry glee, and writing the Web address on cocktail napkins they toss at unsuspecting bar patrons. Forties all around.

Best Guest Boozehound: Pete, the lone attendee -- indeed, one more than we had expected -- at our Drunky But Funky bash this fall. Graciously allowing us to pour his first-ever Irish Car Bomb down his throat, Pete proceeded to smile politely as we sang, danced, drank, and attempted to engage in witty banter despite the rather significant handicap of being hammered and having the collective attention span of a deranged bee. Pete absorbed this with great patience, and even claims he had a good time. Cheers, Pete -- here's a Forty for you.

Best Use Of Alcohol On A Week Night: This doozy of a conversation typed entirely under the influence of two bottles of wine, with typos left intact.

Best Supportive Undergarment: The white strapless bra Heather wore to Lauren's birthday, which snuck down around her waist by the end of the night, prompting her to rip it off in the elevator and shout, for all the neighbors to hear, "That fucking takes care of THAT bastard."

Best Post-Bender Entertainment: You'd think that a room full of soused chicks and one guy wouldn't have the attention span to watch any of Annie, much less all of the musical numbers. But you'd apparently be wrong. Congratulations, Annie.

Best Puke: It's been an uncharacteristically active year for reverse peristalsis, so on the surface this Forty may seem difficult to award. Heather puked into her hand at Daddy's; Michael loudly drew attention to himself while shotgunning a beer and then promptly yakked a chunk of it back up into his sink; Kim barfed in the car and made her husband clean it up. All of them are heady accomplishments, but only one funky drunk truly and unforgettably put the "vomit" in "housesitting": Carrie, whose infamous Pukesplash incident was a mess only OxyClean could love.

Best Bad Idea: The shot of Rumplemintz purchased for Lauren on her birthday, which pushed her from zero to loaded in about five seconds.

Best Tonsils: Heather's, on display in the photo that's worth a thousand drinks (scroll to the bottom of the page).

Best Women's Room: In only two trips to Daddy's Lounge, we've made more bathroom-line buddies than in all our other restroom trips put together. But we hope that one nice girl isn't still sitting there waiting for us to join her on her blind date. Uh, sorry about that, Nice Girl, but even bathroom friends don't take precedence over a freshly poured margarita.

Tongue Of The Year: Who but Dr. No could take this award? His tongue was everywhere, all the time. We're just sorry we couldn't bronze it and make it a statue.

Drink Of The Year: While we ingested a virtual library of alcoholic beverages, only one earned its special place in our hearts as the spark from which the Drunky But Funky movement exploded: The Irish Car Bomb.

Congratulations to all of our winners� so, to ourselves. May we enjoy our awards on a dirty curb somewhere, preferably outside a 7-11, and may we -- and you -- keep drunking and funking in 2004.