Tvarscki's first name is Boris. His father was a pirate and his mother was a whore. He started making premium blend vodka at the age of 13 and started to sell it on the streets of Bratislava. By his 18th birthday he had saved up enough money to move to the United States. He moved to St. Louis, Missouri and continued making his much beloved Russian vodka to the joy of many a drinker. Only Boris knows the secret recipe and the only copy in existence is hidden somewhere up Hillary Clinton's ass. There are three distinct blends of Tvarscki vodka (more commonly called T-Var by college students).
The first is the green label variety. It is 80 proof and suited for inexperienced drinkers and pussies. The second kind is blue label. It is 90 proof and is for bitches who want to look tough or badasses who don't feel like drinking. The third species of T-Var is reserved for only the most salty of drinking veterans. It is 100 proof and brandishes its red label as proudly as an ostentatious king wearing his crown. It says to the consumer, "Warning: contents are extremely volatile and may result in but not limited to: vomiting, loud obnoxious shouting, irrational thinking, impaired driving and judgment, slurred speech, a flirtatious attitude, a dramatic increase in strength, a feeling of dizziness, a complete loss of memory, awesomeness, the inability to shut the fuck up, an intense desire to fight somebody over nothing, a substantial increase in the fun of a party, in increase in the attractiveness of girls at a party, long and stupid stories, confessions of deep dark secrets, telling your best friend you love him and it not being gay, massive hangover, lack of motivation, inability to attend class, ability to dance like a retard, ability to talk shit and always win, increased appetite for cheesies, drunk dials and texts, buying a round for people for no reason, decrease in productivity, decrease in brain function, decrease in motor skills, increase in beer pong talent, a fucking good time, shtymes, fucked up dreams, theft, burying of treasure, scaling of walls, pissing on interesting objects, and waking up next to a walrus." Use extreme caution when consuming the red label, for it is far too strong for your average weekend drinker.
-Dude I got so wasted last night I woke up this morning with a 3 inch gash in my face, a baseball sized bruise on my thigh, a black eye, cheesy sauce dripping down my face, my pants around my ankles, a bottle of lube and paper towels on my desk, and porn on my computer.
-Damn dude what did you drink?
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