*NEW* Shop the Drunky But Funky store!

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!

Dear Mr. Sutherland,

It's possible that you remember us from our encounters at Restaurant Vermont on Saturday night: You kissed Heather's hand in the bathroom line, you gave Lauren a head-to-toe once-over, you admired the Honky Slut Warrior's cleavage, and you kisssed Jessica on the cheek and professed undying love for her coat. There were also references to "up the butt," and you watched Heather mount Jessica's Dodge Neon.

You don't remember?

Bless you, sir. Bless you.

Hollywood is town rife with drunks and funks, but it's rare for us, as a boozehound posse, to run into a celebrity who so brilliantly in that moment espouses all things drunky and funky, with a considerable side of hunky. As such, we want to congratulate and applaud you for the stunning level of drunkenness you achieved and displayed Saturday night, up to and including not remembering any of us at all.

You, Mr. Sutherland, are one of us. Welcome to Drunky But Funky.

We first spied you sitting in front of the restaurant, at a table peopled by a girl with hair like a poodle and a matching beige outfit, a Ho Girl with eye makeup that had run down her face, and a nondescript guy to whom Ho Girl later referred as, "Up-The-Butt Guy." (At which point, by the way, you stopped to talk to him with a hug and some interest. While the HSW and I wondered if having a personal Up-The-Butt guy meant you were secretly gay -- a GREAT loss for womankind -- Lauren overheard you two speculating on whether any of us liked it up the butt. You dog, you, Kiefer. Woof.)

The Drunky But Funky posse was there and totally togged up for the first "Skin To Win" night of 2004. Hair was smooth. Shoes were high-heeled. Breasts were pushed up, taped in, and hanging out; Jessica's shirt may be re-christened "The Silver Platter," for that's how it offers up a girl's cleavage. We hung out at the bar, sucked back mojitos, and shamelessly ogled you every time you loped past us to the bathrooms and back.

Where some might call you "small," "wee," "SUPER fucking WEE," or even, "What-business-did-you-have-being-engaged-to-gargantuan-Julia-Roberts wee," the Drunky But Funky crew praises you as "efficiently constructed." The shorter path of your bloodstream probably just carries the alcohol more quickly to your brain. It's a time-saver. You have no need for ostentatious height. You own your muscles and your hotness and your velvety voice, and that ass that's begging for a nibble, and you do it without feeling the need to tower over the rest of humanity -- or even over the 5'5" Heather. You, sir, are packaged without waste. (Down to and including your bladder, judging by the amount of time you spent either outside or in the men's room.)

We admire your slurry speech, heavy-lidded eyes, and slow, booze-sodden smile. We applaud your gentle drunken slouch, the uneven and slightly puzzled gait of one who's crawled down a whiskey bottle and nested there. And although we don't understand why your tongue ended up in the mouth of a walking kohl accident, Ho Girl, we clap for your achievement of an ill-advised boozy hookup, for nothing says "Drunky But Funky" like a little misplaced tongue.

Side note: What's with Poodle Girl? Could you maybe consider suggesting to her that she done down her hair's overall level of nappy? We imagine someone trying to run their fingers through it, and getting snared in that finger-trap of a coif, and the results are bloody. It's a safety issue, truly. Please talk to her.

In sum, Mr. Sutherland, we'd like to say what a pleasure it was to raise our glasses near you, knowing you'd raised more than a few too. We're most distressed you didn't win a Golden Globe the following night, but we hope you enjoyed ogling ours. Long may you live the mantra, "Drink Up, Throw Down, Pants Off, Pass Out," and may one of us someday be there to see more than just the first part.

With love and admiration,

Drunky But Funky