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Some see Lance Armstrong as the paragon of survival and determination. Fuck Lance Armstrong. Why should he get more respect than any other "man" who shaves his entire body and wears bright yellow in public? The true measures of strength are drinking and spontaneous public lesbianism.
These are the qualities that Allison Uberfrau has in spades. She is a two time cancer survivor, thanks to a new form of chemotherapy in which she drank her tumors to death. There really is no way to describe this level of badasisity unless one has seen it for oneself. Nonetheless, I will try to give you a basic rundown.
- There were several occasions in which she had a beer in one hand and a bottle of my vodka in the other
- There was one variation of this where she had a motherfucking 40 oz in one hand and the vodka in the other
- After six hours, she finally started showing vague hints of weakness, and I told her she could have one more drink before I put the vodka on ice. She drained a full third of the bottle.
This was no sports bar wet t-shirt contest smootch and giggle. I honestly thought they were going to orgasm with all of their clothes still on. Panting, light moans, stratigic groping of the upper thigh and crotch, good show. Unfortunately, Allison finally sucumbed to her own body weight in liquor, and was unable to consummate the encounter. If they had finished their game, I would never be able to look upon another human face and see anything but a pathetic weakling. I would be unable to write without the image reminding me of the inadequacy of my so-called creation. All existence would be pointless, like Toby Keith walking onstage after Hendrix burned his guitar at Monterey. But I can find solice in the fact that I can at least conceive of being that bad-ass. You on the other hand, never mind.
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