mike's lemonade

Types of Drunks
  • *Check Jupiter, or 11th House
  • Aries: The Frat Boy-Type. Kinda always trying to bone someone before the end of the night. Pounded like, 20 beers. Probably wakes up with someone they thought was hotter/prettier when drunk.
  • Taurus: Ditzy-Drunk Type. Girl who constantly compliments you and leans on your boyfriends shoulder and basically flirt w/ everyone and asks shit like "What's Aleppo?"
  • Gemini: Toilet-Hugger. You don't *usually* get drunk, but tonight you did. At first you were socializing, and somehow, you ended up hunched over the toilet puking. You havent left. Your bestfriend almost puked in your hair. One time, she did.
  • Cancer: Expresso Depresso. "No, I don't always drink when I'm sad." You kinda just came to the party to "escape". You don't want to be here, and in every movie EVER, you find some goth bitch to complain about existence with. That, or you're in a bar wanting to die cause your wife left you. Your choice, i guess.
  • Leo: Game Maker. You're the asshole who suggests 7 Minutes in Heaven, Truth or Dare, and other shitty games at middle school parties where someone found some Mike's Hard Lemonade. You still get drunk off of the shit, too. Somehow.
  • Virgo: Socialite. You don't really get drunk. You just get buzzed, and go home. You talk to everyone and anyone, and get as many numbers as possible. You're quite the hook up when it comes to some drugs at a party, though.
  • Libra: Hoe. You're the girl who compliments everyone and smiles at everything. You also basically wanna suck someone's dick before the night ends. Who's? Idk.
  • Scorpio: Dirty Dancer. Someone complained about there "being too many clothed people" at the party. So, you took your clothes off, threw them at the person, and began dancing. Truly a Titty Hero.
  • Sagittarius: Drunk "Driver". You're the guy who suggests they go on an adventure, or brought tons of booze to do some really illegal shit. As a kid, you literally drank just because "if we're doing something illegal, may as well do two!!"
  • Capricorn: Bartender. Nobody really appointed you bartender. Nobody really asked, either. But, nobody is complaining. You make the best booze, and the more YOU drink, the funnier, quicker, and cuter the drinks are made. By the end of the night, the drink counter looks a bit like a Scorpio's room -- clothes all over the floor in order to mop some mysterious liquid up.
  • Aquarius: Royal Rebel. Drink the keg. Bring the big ass case of booze. Make some kid puke. And then do it again. Dare devil galore, and kind of an asshole about it. That, or stays in the corner like they may make the party into a murder scene. One or the other.
  • Pisces: Just like Taurus, but also drinks twice her weight and probably asks "Where's the weeeeeeEEEeeedd???" 20 times.

like i really fuckin love those modern gods posts.

but think about: modern worshipers

-college kids offering food stolen out of their cafeteria

-eshrines made by kids whose parents wont allow altars

-teenagers with their hair tucked into a trucker hat because they are unable to veil properly for their gods

-offerings of boones farm and mikes hard lemonade

-skin covered in classical tattoos devoted to the gods

-stereos blaring musical offerings of carefully crafted playlists

-children learning to love gods they were taught as myths

-high school students acing their lit test on the Iliad because they already have it half memorized


You were addictive. My own personal cocaine. So when you left I turned to alcohol. But I don’t even need that anymore because I’m done being addicted to you.
—  Getting over you

Whenever someone on this site makes a post about healthcare workers needing to “reign it in” or “represent your profession” or call us trashy for not having total empathy 24/7 I’m just like ???? Are you really ignorant enough to think that I go home and spread my nursey love??? No Brittany I am in my own house on my own couch eating cheesesticks and watermelon Mikes hard lemonade with no pants on watching the Kardashians at 9am. I havent washed dishes in 2 days. I clock in and out and I’m NOT a nurse on my days off and you fuckers on Tumblr aren’t my patients. So hop off my dick and let me enjoy my queso in peace.

Summer chores for sixteen-year-old Mike Wheeler included mowing the lawn, a task he used to dread. That was before El had begun showing up for breakfast on Sunday mornings, gardening gloves balled into the back pocket of her jean shorts; before El would follow him outside and set to tending his mother’s flowers and tomato plants while he worked at pushing the lawnmower back and forth across the brilliant green ocean that was the Wheeler’s backyard.

It’s on an especially hot Sunday morning–fry an egg on the sidewalk kind of hot–that Karen excuses Mike from his weekly outdoor chores and instead sets up the sprinkler for Holly (knowing perfectly well that her teenaged son and his girlfriend won’t be able to resist leaping through the cold water themselves). Mike busies himself making lemonade (with just a splash of peach juice stirred in) and brings out three tall glasses on a tray; one each for El, Holly, and himself.

Setting the tray down on the glass top of the patio table, he hears El come up behind him and turns just as she presses herself onto the tips of her toes, a full six inches shorter than he is. Deftly, El’s hand slips a soft white daisy behind Mike’s ear, pushing back the messy locks that curl softly to his cheekbones. Mike grins, stooping slightly to plant a kiss on El’s forehead.

“Looks pretty,” she laughs softly, a sound he’ll never get sick of hearing. Despite the sticky heat, Mike pulls her into a hug, her face pressed gently against his chest, his chin coming to rest atop her head. Mike is certain he could have stayed like that forever had Holly not come running over, shrieking with joy.

“Group hug!” the youngest Wheeler exclaimed, stretching her short arms around Mike and El as far as possible, causing the teens to burst out laughing.