So when last we left our intrepid heroes, they had just left Africa, about to move on to denude the next country on their list. For those of you keeping score at home, that's four countries, with approximately eight drinks, in the span of an hour and a half.
That's not good, is it?
With eight countries - and sixteen drinks - to go, will they make it out alive? Will they do something horribly embarrassing that will haunt them later in life and cause problems in their social and professional lives?
Wait. That's why you're really reading this, isn't it? You're just waiting around for the moment we manage to completely humiliate ourselves, aren't you?
That's ok. So are we.
Anyway. ONWARD! TO GLORY!
You think Germany, you think "beer". Which, as far as we're concerned, is just another goddamn ethnic stereotype and you should really be ashamed of yourselves.
Well, maybe they're not so bad.
Still, any idiot can go to Germany (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) and hoist a few pilsner's. We're not just any idiot. So we're going to do schnapps.
CAT: Why am I drinking this again?
HARRIS: Because there's no way I'm drinking goddamn Jägermeister.
CAT: Ah, Jägermeister. Mother always said you were no good for me.
HARRIS: She did?
CAT: No, wait. I said that.
Meanwhile I'm drinking Rumplemintz. I may soon regret this.
HARRIS: Does Germany seem oddly empty to you?
CAT: I think they're all in France.
It is worth noting here: We started this venture on mostly empty stomachs. Only one thing to do. PRETZELS.
And also: more shots
Pro Tip: If you're buying the pretzels, you have the droit de seigneur. Which is to say, I get half that pretzel. Dammit.
(Side note: Cat has been keeping up with me, drink for drink. I also outweigh her by about 60lbs. And she's a mean drunk.)
CAT: Half? Half? You ate HALF my pretzel, the bestest fucking pretzel in the world?
CAT: You know what this means.
CAT: Put on the ears.
CAT: Put on the fucking ears!
Dear Internet: I hate you all, please die.
So to tally up the damage so far: 12 drinks. (I think. We kinda lost track). Five countries. Half a pretzel. The tattered shreds of my dignity. At this point, I require a Disney Princess and a men's room.
HOLY SHIT IT WORKED!
Another satisfied client of Dr. NerdLove
Oh my God, this really is a place where wishes come true! OK, can't waste this opportunity. Clear your mind... concentrate... concentraaate...
Oh God it's like I always dreamed it would be...
So I'm in my happy place now.
"She's not going to call, is she?"
Ahh Venice. The Piazaz San Marco. The Canals! City of romance. Of Intrigue. Of...
What the hell do you mean "you don't have beer?" No liqueur?
Well what the hell DO you have?
CAT: I'm drinking sparkling red wine.
HARRIS: Which I didn't know existed.
CAT: Because I'm sophish
CAT: Because I've got fuckin' class. I got class oozing out my goddamn t..
HARRIS: OOOOK, so hey, look, time to hit the next country, let's go...
CAT: Wait, aren't you going to say what you're drinking?
HARRIS: Do I have to?
CAT: Isn't that the whole goddamn point of all of this?
CAT: So that's...
CAT: All they had, huh?
HARRIS: Actually, it's not bad.
CAT: Did you just chug that?
HARRIS: Hey, we've gotta keep moving. Um...
are you gonna finish that?
CAT: I was...
HARRIS: Huh. Surprisingly refreshing, a little crisp... I guess it's not too bad.
CAT: Could you please take off the ears?
HARRIS: I'm kinda startin' to dig 'em.
CAT: You're creeping me out.
HARRIS: Hey, maybe tonight while I got 'em on, we can...
CAT: If you finish that sentence, you are never having sex again, including with yourself.
HARRIS: HEY LOOK! AMERICA! RIGHT OVER HERE!
So **sniff** there wasntanyboozeinamerica**sniff**letsjustmoveon...
We did get to meet Robert Evans, though...
CAT: Ooooh, sake!
HARRIS: True fact: sake's not meant to be drunk hot. That's an American thing and it horrifies the Japanese. And every time you do, God kills another kitten.
CAT: It's like, 47 degrees and wet outside though.
HARRIS: You have a point. Sorry kittens!
HARRIS: Just so you know, I'm tapping into my Jinchūriki in order to power my chakras to form the ultimate method of drinking my way to martial supremacy: suikyo-no-jutsu.
CAT: I have no idea what the fuck you're talking
HARRIS: Maybe so, but about 20 people reading this blog just freaked the hell out.
CAT: Oh please, I can be an anime character too. OHAI!
HARRIS: You look like Helena Bonham Carter.
CAT: Close enough?
HARRIS: Only if Bellatrix Lestrange meets Urotsukidoji. And LOLCats.
CAT: I can haz tentacle monster?
"...make your joke about balls getting in the way, take the damn picture and
let me get back to my alcohol. Asshole."
HARRIS: So Morocco doesn't have any signature drinks.
CAT: So instead we have to get this Royal Blue crap Because everybody thinks "Raspberry Slush Puppy" when they think of Morocco.
HARRIS: Just take my word for it that there's vodka in it.
CAT: You seem too excited about this.
CAT: OK so you know how I'm always complaining that the cartoon villanesses look like me instead of the princesses?
HARRIS: I'm afraid of where this is going...
CAT: Now like at least I can relate to Gargamel on a whole new level.
HARRIS: You realize you look too cute and cuddly to be a Saturday morning villain right?
CAT: Hold on.
HARRIS: How much vodka did we put in this?
"I like you camel. Nobody unnerstansh me like you do. Yur my frien'..."
"Have I seen Poppa Smurf? I'm not sure... did he look like this?"
HARRIS: Paris. City of lights. City of... oh man,
CAT: Is Europe spinning for you too?
HARRIS: Just... hang on. What are you drinking now?
CAT: This is a ki... ki... something royale. It's got champagne! Cuz I'm classy! Classy out my ass-y! *giggle*
HARRIS: This ain't bad, really.
CAT: You look like you're drinking Big Bird's....
HARRIS: I will have you know, this is a frozen
Grand Marnier Transmetropolitan, thankyouverymuch!
CAT: I thought I was supposed to be drinking the girly drinks...
HARRIS: It's all they had.
CAT: No it's not. I know for a *hic* fact, they had, like, cognac and brandy. And shit.
HARRIS: THIS IS ALL THEY HAD!!!!
Shit were we drinking here? I think we were supposed to be drinking here.
"So then, get this, he asked me for a Rusty Venture..."
Like, I remember cherry vodka and whiskey...
"No, that's a Reverse A.C Slater Double Upper Decker. Completely different. See?"
I'm fairly sure those wasn't at the same time...
"Hello Dad, Hello Mom/
CAT: Last.... last goddamn country. Oh god I can still taste that raspberry smurf shit...
HARRIS: Can I get one of those...
CAT: Please tell me Molson's going to kill the taste. Fuck me to tears, i want to scrape my tongue out...
CAT: **urp** Um. I don't feel so good.
HARRIS: Yeah. One of those Torontotini things.
HARRIS: ... Shut up. 'sgood. 'sgood. Good stuff.
HARRIS: STOP JUDGING ME!!
"Jus'... jus' hol' still for a minnit. Momma's gotta let the poison out."
"YEAH YOU! NO, THE OTHER ASSHOLE ON THE TWELFTH FLOOR! FUCK YOU
YOU LOOKING AT? CAN'T A GUY PISS IN PEACE?"
...And that's the story of why we can never go back to Disney World ever again.
GOOD NIGHT, INTERNET!