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vodka is like the lubricant of the wildly sexual species known as the ‘Siberian’. It warms them up and loosens them up to a point where they begin to have wild, romping orgies out on the tundra or icelakes. This has resulted in disaster on one such icelake, where the heat from the sex melted the ice underneath all of the participants and causing them to drown in the freezing depth.
By Trypno URL on 05.15.2011
Vodka. The beverage that takes over lives. So good, yet so bad. It drives my father mad. It’s ruining my family. Tearing us apart. I refuse to ever touch it. A crying shame. That’s what it is.
By Rachel URL on 05.15.2011
The worst night of my life, thanks to vodka, killed my best friend. We were so young and clueless. If I could take one thing back, that’s what it would be.
oh the wonderful substance. makes you feel amazing!!! though it actually is foolish to intentionally drink something that is going to change your personality and possibly make you deathly ill, everyone still drinks it… but who cares its worth it!
wow this is pathetic..
By Frances Naude on 05.15.2011
She knocked it back and with every swig tasted more and more of her mistake. There was lipstick streaked through her hair and a sticky brown liquid on her shoes. Some man was hanging around and she was wising up to the fact that she must have given him some indication she was interested… and what was that on his neck? That shade of lipstick looked far too familiar…
By Laura Mary URL on 05.15.2011
Vodka is an alcoholic drink. I can’t drink it, and I don’t see why adults do. It doesn’t seem appetizing to me at all. I mean seriously have u ever smelt it? Yuck! Although I don’t see why people drink period. I mean I kind of understand but everything smells just bitter to me.
By Hannah on 05.15.2011
russian dance crashes against walls, fire brimes over and talk warps into grunts and laughs, nobody notices the smell till the next day. Terrible blood is spilled like water.
By jym URL on 05.15.2011
getting drunk, happy, fun… loving life. very strong. drinks get stronger and stronger. suddenly shitfaced. really wasted. feel sick. go to bed. wake up tomorrow even more sick.
By ella on 05.15.2011
i did this word yesterday when I wasn’t yet registered I was hoping for a new word but really vodka tastes horrible, reminds me of drunk old men not a very pretty image.
By Violet URL on 05.15.2011
I’ve never tried Vodka. It’s Russian, right? I’m not much of a drinker, so excuse me if I’m not well-informed, will you, please? How does it taste? I imagine a red liquid, maybe even yellow. But not bright, kind of green, but mostly yellow.
By Elly URL on 05.15.2011
Vodka and orange juice makes a lovely drink. I found that out my freshman year of high school, and so did my parents. Nowadays I don’t really care to drink. Belligerent drunks are rather annoying and I would never want myself to be like that.
By Heather URL on 05.15.2011
I instantly think of Russians whenever vodka is mentioned. Maybe it’s a stereotype or maybe not. Maybe I’ll find out one day. And then I think, would I like it or not? Too strong maybe. I’m really just a girly girl at heart, I suppose.
By Sarah M on 05.15.2011
It was sticky and sweet as it spilled down my throat, it’s stench foul as nail polish remover. My head reeled and I fell onto my comforter, dizzy, dazed…completely and utterly drunk.
By Katie URL on 05.15.2011
And despair was the only thing left at the bottom of the bottle.
By Reilly on 05.15.2011
i drank too much vodka last night. i dont know why i do it. i guess it helps blue things out for me. i still made a giant fool out of myself. i know josh is going ot apologize and just say he was drunk but i dont think it’s fair for him to continue making excuses over alcohol.
just admit you don’t want anything to do with me and stop trying to be a ‘nice’ guy. bc in the end ur just a bad person.
By Sara on 05.15.2011
great to drink alone helps ease the pains of life. A tiny little bottle with magic juice always good for the soul. dont think just drink cause time flies when your drunk and dont give a fuck.
By Charlie Hennessy on 05.15.2011
They stood, silent, for the most part, sipping slowly out of their plastic cups on the front porch of her trailer that overlooked the thick tangle of marshes and brakish water, where she would spend the rest of the summer trapping an invasive species of python. They didn’t speak because he knew, could see it in the way she moved around him, the way she looked down whenever he moved his hand up her back, under her shirt, that living here like this would change the way she felt about them, about everything. They didn’t speak because there was nothing left to say. And so when they finished their drinks they poured one more, until the vodka made it easier for them to do what they had to do, and she took him in through that long narrow hall of hollow tin, into her bedroom, surrounded by a net to keep out the mosquitos, where she allowed for him to enter her one last time, and, moving rhythmically back and forth, when it came time for her, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, squeezing as tightly as she could, trying to push out all the air she could, until he shuddered and sighed and collapsed on top of her, but she still couldn’t let go until he whispered into her damp shoulder, “So that’s all?” And she said nothing. Just slowly unravelled herself, nodded, felt her arms slide of his shoulders, and let him go.
By Ian Rowe URL on 05.15.2011
a division of Identity Crisis, Inc.