Sometimes, after several dozen beers, it's not longer necessary to sneak a peak at some cleavage. No more saying, "oh I was scanning the crowd and just happened to look down your turtleneck," or, "oh I was just checking out that cool necklace you have on - is that white gold?"
No - you just do what this guy is doing, you dive right in, because you know what? You only live once, so who gives a shit if you look like you're trying to burn those boobies into your brain like it's made of carbon paper?
If you said the guy with his arms around the girls, you are correct. Seven minutes after this photo was taken, he stripped naked and shit in a potted plant.
Hey look, attractive girls and alcohol that doesn't come in a plastic bottle and you're nowhere to be found. Coincidence? No. But check out the guy in the upper-right corner sneaking his way. "Hey, we're all drunk, we're all laughing it up, we're all feeling good, who knows who's hand that is unbuttoning my bra?"
Part II: Checking For Witnesses
The creep shows his full face. This is like watching pirahna swim lazily around a helpless goldfish...
Part III: Making Moves
As stated above, those chapped, bristly lips could be any one's, right? Right?
*Bonus - look at the girl sprawled out face-first in the background. I bet she's having regrettable sex later!
A Big Boss Man look-alike, a woman with a face that's being blasted by a jet engine...Just another standard night at the local OTB. Anyone have a USA Gold to spare, or a shot of paint thinner?
Via an Eagle-eyed Reader: "(name redacted) looks like he's trying to smell his own fart."
I agree. And there's nothing more satisfying than farting, catching a whiff, and giddily awaiting the moment when the rest of your companions smell the awfulness that is the insides of your putrid stomach. Bravo, sir.
This guy missed the bus to Tottenham and instead needs to waste some time asking random women for a "suckle." Needless to say, this English Gentleman did not last very long in the bar. But he did get a free ride through the door with his face!
This is why weddings are awesome, because you can be the guy who gets bombed during cocktail hour and ruins hundreds of photos, and you're that guy, but not in a bad way, in a: "Holy shit, did you see so-and-so punch the bass guitarist in the face and steal his wallet? It was fucking nuts? So-an-so is fucking psycho. Let's buy him free drinks and get him this fucked up every time we go out!"
Or maybe only I think this way. But whatever. Cocktail hour drunk is the best kind of drunk...
