The Lunxicon

For the first time in quite a while, I found myself extremely inebriated. I’m not saying this because I am bragging (”Whoah, brah, I drank like 47 beers. And then I went to the bar and did 937 shots!”), because I’m not. I’m just sayin’ is all.

But “sloshed” is such an awesome and appropriate word. When you are completely trashed, you stagger around like you’re on a sea vessel for the first time ever, the waves crashing against the hull, much like the booze sloshing around in your stomach. Your mind is clouded and everything is a little more difficult to comprehend and pay attention to–as if your brain has been dropped in a big bowl of Old E, and is being sloshed about like a really, really disgusting-looking ice cube.

However, what makes “sloshed” so great to me, is the fact that when someone is completely and totally fitshaced–the epitome of sloshedness–EVERY word he or she says sounds just like the word describing their state. Every sibilant consonant becomes a shibilant one (yeah, i made up that word, suck it). It’s awesome. And, yes, on saturday night I was a walking advertisement for appropriate diction.