Online Fever!

So if you’ve read this blog, you may have reached a few conclusions. You probably have realized that we think we’re way more clever than we actually are. That we are mediocre parents trying our best. And that we may drink a bit much compared to your average bear (or whale). I may get around to suing Jack Daniels one of these days but I hear he’s a nice guy just trying to make a buck…probably has kids, too.

Instead I’m going to write a piece about one of the lesser reported dangers of alcohol.Yes, it’s time to take a good look at ourselves and our Amazon Prime accounts and deal with the scourge of… Drunk Online Shopping!

Here are some gems that have shown up on my doorstep that I am ashamed I bought and too proud to return.

  1. “The Survivalist’s Dream Light Weight Gravity Hook.” Actually, this little beauty hasn’t even arrived yet, but ever since I knew grapple hooks existed, right about six years old, I knew I had to have one. Frankly, I can’t believe it has taken me this long to follow through on that. How the hell have I not been swallowed by quicksand? This is why I don’t have any tactical turtle neck worthy capers under my belt. Problem solved; thank you pop-up ad.
  2. Flashlight stun gun. Thanks to gin and Amazon prime, I now have a tactical flashlight that is tipped with lightning bolts strong enough to drop a moose. I was watching Taken 3 and drinking a martini very late at night when it popped up in my brain that I needed some kind of weapon.  Apparently, if you want to sell me something while I’m loaded, put the word “Tactical” on the box. It’s frankly amazing I don’t have a room full of army surplus crap and machine guns. The wife won’t let me 😦  Funny side note: I was walking by a “Champagne Gold” Cadillac the other day with a Disabled Persons tag on it and noticed the same model in the center console. Good taste in tactical hardware, Granny -Zaps-A-Lot.
  3. High power FM Radio transmitter. I can set up a pirate radio station anytime I want suckers. You can thank the Christian Slater classic Pump Up The Volume and tequila for that decision. Also it was a tax write off and has vague professional applications for me.

And finally, the crown jewel of my collection: I have an electric guitar with the Motörhead War Pig graphic on it. I bought it from a link on the fan club website. I was drinking Jack and Coke and listening to No Sleep Til’ Hammersmith. In the morning, when I came to, my better judgment kicked in. It was expensive enough that I swallowed my pride and called to cancel the order.

Me: “Hi, I ordered one of the Motörhead guitars and I decided it’s not for me so I’d like to cancel it.”

Guitar Guy :”Ok dude, but before you do can I tell you something”

Me: “Uh, ok.”

Guitar Guy: “The one you ordered is the last one we’re making; we were going to put it on the wall in the shop but then you ordered it. It’s number 100/100. So, it’s like extra awesome and collectable.”

Me: “Shit, ok I’ll take it.”

So there I am with this ridiculous guitar that I now have to justify to my wife. It’s too big to hide easily, like a tactical flashlight, and too expensive not to be noticed in the credit card statement.

Me: “Ok…so, the lead singer of Motörhead is Lemmy Kilmister. He’s also old and likes drugs and whiskey, and if I can get him to sign it and he dies it will appreciate in value, and I know the bar he hangs out in,” I pitched.

She just cocked an eyebrow and took a sip of coffee.

“It’s an investment!” I proclaimed.

She asked me to drive her to work so she could pay for all the stupid stuff I do. I did. I played Motörhead on the stereo, she changed it.

So now I was in a pickle, I had to get to Lemmy and convince him to sign this guitar before he died and I didn’t have a lot of free time to stalk rock stars who may go on tour. I stopped by The Rainbow Bar and Grill on Sunset Strip in Hollywood a couple of times but no Lemmy.

Then the drunk shopping gods smiled on me. My friend Laz called me out of the blue. “Dude, I’m working on a movie and Lemmy is going to be there tomorrow, want me to try to get your guitar signed?”

I drove over to his house in the middle of the night and gave him the axe. Two days later he dropped it back.

“Here you go, sorry the paint pen kinda splooged on the part with your name,” Laz said as he handed me the guitar.

A tear came to my eye as I beheld such a thing of beauty. Investment be damned, there’s no way am I selling it now.

I am to this day the proud owner of a Motörhead guitar signed ,”Fuck you Dan. Lemmy”.

guitar

Lemmy passed away late last year…SO take that lessons I don’t learn. I win! And take that eye rolling wife!

I think there was supposed to be some kind of moral or advice in this one but screw it. Drunk Shopping FOREVER.

Also Rest In Peace Ian Fraser “Lemmy” Kilmister.

 

 

 

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