Burgers and Cottages

Hello all,
I have returned unharmed from a weekend of attacking alcohol and hashish. This is indeed miraculous, as there were several occurrences throughout the weekend, in which Alcohol was in complete control, and my brain was rendered useless. Alas, I did not suffer any sort of permanent/ violent injury, which is a plus.
Based on my recent experience, I have come away with a few thoughts that I wish to share with you all....As i reflected on my weekend, I realized that, Summer is indeed that most dangerous of seasons for me. I must provide a basis for this assessment:
First off; Fall is based around wearing track-pants at all times. The weather is best suited to this, especially when one forgoes undergarments. Also, many sports are to be watched at this time; and couches (sofas), seem to maintain an excellent temperature. All of these things are conducive to sitting, and doing nothing physical. In turn the odd "boredom drink" or sports-related alcohol encounter will occur. However for myself these things most often happen in my own home, since I can put both hands down my pants there. My own home also provides me the advantage of a simple drunken roll to bed, in which I may stub a toe, or trip on a loaf of stale bread - nothing life threatening.
Winter is very much the same thing, but underwear is now donned, and generally speaking, the drinking becomes heavier. Simply put; more snow = more libations. However, I am cold, and cabin fever is setting in. Luckily for me, I have cached a large assortment of boozes to quell my murderous rage. I will be drunk, and lazy, and it will be cold outside. This is good. I will not venture out - it is much too cold to commit assault(s). I am not primed for much movement within nature. I will not be climbing ice, and shooting down mountains on skis. I am too large of a mammal for the nonsense. Much like a bear, I will stay inside and wait out the thaw with comforting alcohol, and much cheese. To sum: little chance of danger.
Spring is the flirt. "Oh hello Ian, I am an underage summer that you cannot have. On certain days however, I will walk by your house, and blow warm air into your soul. This will make you long for my of-age seasonal friend - summer. I will then turn on you like a banshee, and pelt you with rain, especially if you have planned a picnic, since I, Spring get much satisfaction when I see you crying as you eat triangular cut egg salad sandwiches, alone in the rain." I curse you, Spring. You teasing bastard. The only real good thing is that it seems, few injury's occur for me in Spring.
It is now summer: All bets are off. I am outside, and I am drinking - heavily. This poses a myriad of problems, namely that many of life's dangers occur outside, and are increased massively whilst on whiskey. This is where my weekend Up North creeps into this blog entry. Yes, good people, I was outside. I was drinking, and my chances of death/maiming were severely increased. Please allow me explain:
With alcohol being the driving force behind every single action and reaction, I will now analyse some of the aspects of (potential) danger that accompanied me this weekend
Power tools: Normally in my daily life, I do not have access to power tools. Especially whilst drunk. Up North however, I do. My friend balances his beer on a tree stump. I do the same. He starts the chainsaw, and gives it to me. I proceed to cut things for no good reason. I realize that I am barefoot... I continue. Oh, alcohol, you are leading my blindfolded down a path to doublefootamputeedom. I must stop this at once!!
Fire: I used to watch Real TV. I have seen Michael Bay movies. I am therefore well versed in the destructive power of fire. This knowledge however is thrown to the wayside, and immediately forgotten, especially when the answer to any question is "burn it" and most query's involve some things like "where is fuck is the gas" This is all due to Rum.

[Sidenote: I have suddenly become tired]

Stairs: I am unable to navigate the large stairs, while drunk. I also firmly believe that I am an expert at navigating the large stairs, while drunk. I fell twice. Beer is to blame.
Water: I swim like a bicyle, that is to say; not well. I am also near water frequently, this is bad, especially when you factor in...
Boats: My friend has a boat. It is small, and possesses an extremely large engine and no life jackets. I have been warned: "Don't take 'er full bore, or else we'll fuckin' flip, and die!" This is horrible news. I slow down, and take a long hard drink of whiskey in order to fully assess the deadly situation.
Food: While sober I do not consume "raw" food. On Alcohol however, this weekend, I ate much too much "Pink" Avian. As a result, this morning I produced a horrid excretion, that left me in tears.

I must go. I must seek a bed, for I am tired. I will try not to ramble nearly as much in the future, as I have been informed that my long-winded writing style can be harmful, for those with things to do.
I do not ever have anything to do, so I do apologize for my babbling.
Also, in tomorrow entry, I will get to Prof. Crabottom, as promised.

Goodnight all,
Mr. Bacon Wagon