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Sunday, October 28, 2012

Priests Get All the Pussy

It's going to be Halloween soon, so I figure I'd do a Halloween themed post. I couldn't help it especially when I reflected back to my time as an undergrad and some of the Halloween parties I attended. I think the first thing that should be understood about Halloween in a college town, and probably just about anywhere when it's Halloween, is that it's a night for women to show ass and tits, and they get to feel like it's okay because it's part of their costume. And believe me, us guys don't mind. The college I attended we were assaulted by many a Hooters girls, and female cops with short skirts, batons, and stripper boots & heels. And really girls that were trying to be crafty with their costumes, but for us they were all basically dressed as strippers that night. Ever seen what a stripper Pokemon looks like? All I could hear in my head was "Strippychu attack!" and Strippychu would be saying "Strippy! Stirppy!" For guys it's a night to basically be offensive via their costumes. Ever seen a group of guys with hairy beer belly's, that decided to be Chippendale strippers? For those of you not very privy to that pop culture reference think Magic Mike. Or another year, there were a few guys running around naked throughout town that entire night, impersonating Blink 182 from that one song and that one video. The kissing booth guy was actually a good one too, un chingo de girls were all over that guy.

One party in particular stood out, because me and some friends threw a costume party and it was just overloaded with women in their teasing-best. Female officers with those aforementioned short skirts, the hats, fake little badges, batons and even whistles. I remember one of the girls that might have a had a few drinks at the bar already before showing up, was particularly getting into her role. She was blowing her whistle at any guy that made some smart ass comment about police brutality, or you know, the really lame, "Are you going to frisk me?" or it's offshoot, "Frisk me, please!" Eventually after a few more drinks she was assaulting one of my friends with her plastic baton. He wasn't saying anything, but she'd blow her whistle and whack his bare arm anyway (he was one of those douchebag Chip and Dale dancers). She was getting into her role a little too much, not sure if she actually went on to be a cop, but boy did she leave her mark via a nice red welt on that poor fucker's flabby arm. Not to mention the possible psychological trauma via the phallic symbolism you can get into. Eventually he lost his patience and grab her baton, twisted it up, and tossed it away (wouldn't it be nice to do that to the real cops?) to which she blew her whistle endlessly, but got over it, when her fellow ho-fficers dragged her to the dance floor to do the whole girls dancing in a tribal circle thing.
 
A friend from outta town was visiting, and he wanted to drink some of the home brew. We were nice enough to ask, "Do you want the regular shit, or you want something stronger?"
Him: "What's the strongest shit? Isn't the homebrew strong enough?"
"Nah" we said, we can buy a six pack of Bigfoot."
He stupidly said, "Okay, sure why not, let's get some of that."
He thought the home brew would be strong enough, because he wasn't used to drinking dark beer, let alone a dark beer with an alcohol content of 5.6%. Bigfoot is 9.6%. Upon returning to the party, we cracked a bottle open for him, and to show what a great drinker he could be, he downed it in less than 10 minutes. No bueno. You see, he might have been a badass at drinking all that light beer like Budweiser and Naughty Ice or whatever other pussy juice he was used to, but in our college town we drank the home brew day in and day out, so we built a tolerance, and we also knew how to pace ourselves . . . well for the most part. He'd downed his first Bigfoot, and wanted the second, me and my friends looked at each other and said, "Uhhhh, you sure? Maybe you should have the regular 5.6 shit, or how about some puss--, er light beer?" "Naaaaah," he said, opened the fridge himself and grabbed his second Bigfoot, which he again proceeded to pound, we shook our heads, as he walked into the crowd and disappeared. That was the last we ever heard from him. That's a joke, I just wanted to add a bit of spookiness to the story since it's Halloween.  Eventually about an hour or so later, we realized he hadn't returned for a third helping of Bigfoot, let alone any other beer. Maybe an hour or two after that we inquired about him, from one of the guys he had driven up with, and he told us that he had passed out in a room, which was essentially a bedroom right next to the living room, where the music was blaring, and the people were the loudest because that's where they were dancing. But the Bigfoot had bashed his brains so hard, that somehow he managed to make it to that room and pass out, which was basically like our own personal little drunk tank, since he wasn't the only body in there.
5.6% Alcohol Content vs . . .
9.6%
As the party continued, the younger brother of one of my friends had come up as well. We'll call him Jr. Jr was actually of age, he was attending Sac State, and by him being of age, I mean, he wasn't necessarily old enough to drink, but old enough to attend the party with all the barely-clothed women, and drink illegally. He had made an interesting choice in costume, he had picked to be a priest, long black robe, stole and everything. At first people would give him a nod and say nice costume. Eventually though, as the night carried on, and the women got drunker; I want to say he got harrassed, but I don't think he'd consider it harrasment, I know I sure as fuck wouldn't. One of the drunken policewomen came up to him, she had one of those faces that makes you think she likes to fuck, usually and moreso when she's drunk. She came up to the priest, and said in her best freaknasty voice, which pretty much came naturally to her, "Padre, I need to confess . . ." The priest said, "Go on . . ." and the policewoman commenced her confession, "Padre, Me gusta cojer y chupar (I like to fuck and suck). What do you recommend I do about this?" She said this into his ear, as she rubbed her cuca on his leg, while having her left leg wrapped around him. It felt like it was a porn waiting to happen. Me and some of the guys were laughing, and the priest was trying hard not to break outta his role. "What do you recommend for me Padresito?" she asked in her perpetually freaknasty sounding voice. "Te recomiendo, 3 padre nuestros y ave marias." "Aren't you going to bless me, Padrecito?" "Ah yes, yes of course," he said, as he then made the an air cross in front of her face then gave her the universal symbol that Mexicanos use for "chinga tu madre":
The policewoman loved it, and eventually her fellow officers, had gathered around along with other girls, who equally wanted to confess not so much their sins, but their carnal desires. I think most of them were a bit too shy to admit those desires, they seemed to prefer listening to the first police woman try to make the priest squirm. Unfortunate, because I wanted to hear how many would admit that size does matter, or the great debate between a dildo versus vibrator, which is better? Or how many of them would admit to having had sex on the fourth floor of the campus library where you can't possibly get caught on a weekend; but I figured too many were too embarrassed to admit their sexual tendencies let alone their carnal desires. For that night however he was the priest that all the girls wanted to be around, and I was thinking, man, Jr, is one smart cabron.

The following, day, our friend from out of town came out of the bedroom, and asked, "I missed the whole party, huh?"

Happy Halloween to one and all, and may all your Halloween themed carnal wishes come true.

XX
c/s

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