Would there be rainbows shooting out of places rainbows don’t belong? Would it be doing the moonwalk in glittery stilettos, absolutely off its sparkly tits? Would it be in a mood—horny, hungover, or just aggressively fabulous?
Honestly? I don’t give a flying fart through fairy dust.
Because The Drunken Unicorn isn’t here to make sense. It’s my little misfit universe where I can do what I bloody well like. No clients breathing down my neck. No one telling me to “pivot the brand voice” or “align with the vision.” Nah mate—this unicorn doesn’t do PowerPoints.
Here, I make stuff. Weird stuff. Cool stuff. Maybe even useful stuff. And if I feel like sharing it, I will. If you want to use it—be my guest. Just know this:
There’s no customer service hotline in the magical realm of drunk unicorns.
Support? Pfft. The unicorn’s passed out in a glitter puddle, wearing sunglasses and a questionable life choice. 🦄🍸