alcohol puns

The Dads at Jim and Kim's
  • Robert: Let's <i>whiskey</i> away the rest of the evening with alcohol.
  • Damien: I already drink three glasses of wine because I know I'll make <i>pour</i> decision.
  • Craig: We want to make this night a <i>pitcher</i> perfect memory after all.
  • Joseph: I'm so glad we gave this drinking night idea a <i>shot</i>.
  • Hugo: Let the drinking night be-<i>gin</i>.
  • Brian: This is going to be a <i>brew</i>-tiful night.
  • Mat: I must <i>flask</i> a question, who's going to pay for the first round?
  • Dadsona: Gentlemen, alcohol is not exactly my <i>vodka</i>bulary, but I read once in <i>whiskey</i>pedia that if you drink too much, it's likely <i>tequilya</i>.
  • Mary: All of you, stop this shit.

Black Cow might be made with milk, but you won’t find it in the dairy case. It’s on the liquor shelves, because this milk, which comes from a herd of grass-fed cattle in Dorset, England, has been distilled into premium vodka.

Sixth-generation dairy farmer and DIY distiller Jason Barber likes to experiment.

He’s made vodka from potatoes and apples, but the results were disastrous. His whey-based spirits were initially udder failures. But the moment he took his first sip of the spirit that became Black Cow pure milk vodka, he knew it would be a hit.

Let This Spirit Moo-ve You: Make Way For The World’s First Milk Vodka

Photo: Black Cow

Alcoholic Gossip
  • Margarita: I heard Brandy and Jack Daniels met at the mixer!
  • Sherry: Yeah, but their relationship is on the rocks.
  • Margarita: Oh no! I thought they would be perfect together. Have things gone sour?
  • Sherry: He's just not a straight shooter.
  • Margarita: Well, I always thought he was neat.
  • Sherry: Nah, he's a dirty one. A real chaser. She's a virgin, you know.
  • Margarita: That's an interesting twist!
  • Sherry: He muddled her thinking, and it was bound to fizz out anyway.

Alternative Ship Names for Avpol

Food Puns Edition

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[Fire and/or Egypt and/or Chicken] +

[Sword and/or France and/or Turtle] =

  1. French Toast
  2. Burnt Baguette
  3. Rotisserie Chicken
  4. Coq au Vin/Rooster with Whine
  5. Shish Taouk/Chicken Shish Kebab
  6. A Nice, Hot Bowl of Turtle Soup
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🍎 Bonus puns, fresh from the Avpol Orchard:

Avpol Pie, Avpol Sauce, Avpol Juice, Avpol Turnover, Avpol Tart, Avpol Cider, Avpol Strudel, Avpol Crisp, Avpol Crumble, Avpol Butter, Avpol Chips, Avpol Dumplings, Baked Avpol, Chicken Waldorf Salad

New Town (Carol Danvers x Reader)
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Request: Can I please request a Carol Danvers/Reader where she’s still a pilot and meets reader in Pancho’s, and they start flirting and stuff? Hope you can write, love your style. (@dearcaptain99)

A/N: this was super fun to write! if anyone wants to request anything else (carol or not!) my requests are open!!

Warnings: alcohol consumption, terrible puns, fluff

Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you had never regretted a decision more. Ever since moving across states, you quickly learned that making friends meant an awful lot of drinking and an ever-increasing amount of hangovers to make up for it. The last two months had consisted of you being excitedly dragged through dozens of clubs and loud venues by equally shiny and volatile people; often ending up with a pounding headache before the binge drinking even began. Tonight, unfortunately, was no different. Your phone was erupting with notifications from several group chats as you put your sneakers on (the extravagant clubbing outfits had been retired after weekend 3) and checked yourself over in another mirror. Okay, four drink limit and agree to dancing; might get Steph and her Jello shots away from you for long enough to run and hide. Taking a deep breath, you left your apartment and prepared yourself for yet another boring night of receiving the “Haven’t seen you around here before,” pick-up line from thousands of small-town fuckboys.

Pancho’s was a lot more charming than you figured it would be. It was a bar with class; a traditional feeling that all the glossy new clubs had failed to present. Perhaps this night wouldn’t go as badly as the others. Planting yourself at the bar as you waited for some of your friends to arrive, your eyes scoured the place surrounding you. The wooden interior was sleek and old-fashioned at the same time; you wondered if it had recently been refurbished. The arcade machines in the corner caught your attention with their flashing invitations to play. Hopping from the bar stool, you sauntered over to the Flight 2000 machine and dug a quarter out of your pocket. The game started up and finished almost instantly as the realisation hit you that you didn’t actually know how to play. You remembered games like these from your childhood, hundreds of hours spent trying to beat your high scores in your dad’s bar back home. You missed those simpler times. Before you knew it, a tear had started to roll down your cheek as you reminisced about the life you had in the past.

Your musings were interrupted by a light tap on your shoulder. You spun round and your hand instinctively shot up to wipe the tear away. You were greeted by a blonde woman, smirking at you with bright eyes.

“Did you lose that bad? Man, I wonder what that’s like,” she remarked sweetly, clearly referencing the teardrop that was now gone from your face. You couldn’t help but giggle in response, both surprised and intrigued by her forwardness. She moved to put another quarter in the machine and looked back to you, that same smirk back on her lips.

“I’m Carol by the way,” she stuck out a hand. You took it and gave a weak shake, marvelling at the warm friendliness emanating from this (not so) mystery woman.

“Y/N,” you responded, trying to match her confidence level in your tone.

“That’s a nice name. You wanna learn how to play?” She asked. You automatically nodded, completely entranced by her. You felt yourself relax as she started explaining the rules of the arcade to you. Maybe this night would turn out even better than you hoped.

Carol let out a loud groan as the machine in front of you lit up green and announced that the previously set high score (achieved by the blonde, of course) had been beaten. She beamed at you as you celebrated your return to arcade game glory and offered to buy her a drink as a thank you for re-teaching you. She agreed and led you through the now packed Pancho’s to the bar. Ordering two beers, you swivelled back to Carol, determined to learn more about the cocky and, quite frankly adorable, pilot. She told you about her work at the nearby Air Force base and you admired her ability to overcome the struggles of being a woman in the military, lending Carol even more of your adoration. You could swear you saw her cheeks darken at a few of the compliments that flowed from you so effortlessly.

“So, what brings you to this lonely little town?” she enquired while sipping her beer coolly.

“I’m a chemist. Got sent over here to work on some development project on a nearby farm. It’s really not super exciting, unfortunately,” you replied, embarrassment growing on your face. You hated talking about your job; especially with someone who had a much more interesting occupation; like Carol. She simply offered you a smile and you instantly felt yourself relax again.

“I think that’s awesome. You’re definitely a lot smarter than some of this lot,” she quipped with another signature smirk as she gestured around the room. You felt a blush crawling up your cheeks and went to take another sip of your beer.

“Didn’t think scientists could be so pretty though,” she remarked, locking eyes with you. Wow, she really liked being forward. You almost choked on the beer and cleared your throat as you set the bottle down. Carol giggled at your flustered state and finished her bottle.

“Guess it’s been a while since you got flirted with? Hope it’s not been as long as since your last time playing Flight 2000,” she teased. All you could do was blush in response.

“No it’s- it’s not that, I just- you’re really pretty and funny and bold and-” you stammered.

“Wow, it’s really been a while,” she exclaimed, sculpted face adorned with a shit-eating grin.

“Shut up! I’m good at calculations, not flirting!”

“Well how about you solve this for me, then?” she asked, grabbing a napkin. She pulled a pen from her bag and scribbled on it. Sliding it to you, your eyes travelled to the neat handwriting on the tissue. It simply read: U + I = ?

“Well, since you’re a chemist, I actually need help with this chemistry equation,” she said, pride laced in her tone.

“Wow, it may have been a while for me but the cheesiness of this one is a first,” you snarked at her. She rolled her eyes and set a $20 bill on the bar, grabbing your hand and leading you out of Pancho’s. You silently thanked the arcade machine as you passed it to continue your night with Carol.

I Couldn't Sleep Last Night Because of this "Story"
  • Two friends are in a bar having a good time
  • Friend 1: Man, look at the legs on that girl that Doug's talking to.
  • Friend 2: Yeah, hope that she doesn't find out how much of a wine-er he is.
  • Friend 1: Maybe I should go over there and tell him to put a cork in it.
  • Friend 2: I don't know man, that seems a little whiskey...
  • Friend 1: It's not like I'm going to liquor.
  • Friend 2: Of Coors not!
  • Friends 1: C'mon, I have to give it a shot!
  • Friend 2: Okay, just remembeer to keep him in high spirits or he might blow it.
  • Friend 1: You got it, Bud!
To Be Mine
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Summary: Y/N is too busy shuffling through her playlist of boys to realize her favorite song is Daniel Seavey. 

Word Count: 1456

Warnings: Softcore angst, softcore smut, one bad word and alcohol, lame puns

A/N: Sorry I haven’t been very active, and that it took forever to post this. Special thanks to @annabseavey who requested I listen to this song and attempt a story based upon it, as well as @girlcarryingthegalaxyinabag, who keeps me on track with Daniel content. Hopefully you two appreciate this story just a little bit. 

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