Wednesday, September 12, 2007

 

Where have all my drunk sluts gone?

What on Earth is going on with my girlfriends? In college I must have had at least five girlfriends who could be classified as Drunk Sluts--- and I mean that in the best sense of those words: Pretty girls who like to get drunk and fuck boys. No value judgement here. I've been aspiring to be a drunk slut ever since I met them. These girls are hot, if one believes that girls can be hot. All of these girls have fantastic tits. Really. You'll have to trust me on this. I've seen them all naked (straight guys would call this one of the best "perks" of being gay, which it most definitely is not). Each cleavage grander than the Grand Canyon. Each can have pretty much any guy they want. One bedded a gorgeous, muscly, married campus security guard; another did this blond preppy bicycle enthusiast with a great back; another rode this hot little shy boy with the firmest ass on campus. Bottom line: They did very well for themselves.



But now something curious is happening to these swinging single ladies. They're changing their ways. They are deliberately casting aside their powers. They're becoming shells of their former selves, they're becoming pod people: They're becoming.....I can barely bring myself to type the word......monogamists. Now, before you start to think of this as another one of my bitter attacks on relationships, stop. Some relationships are great and many people in them are happier for it. But most of my friends in relationships, up until now, have been relationship people. They work regular jobs. They own property. They have certain responsibilties that are best shared with another, preferrably someone they also like to have sex with. They have lives together. Great, fine, good for them. Basically, the relationship-inclined have a tendency towards predictability and playing things safe. Again, this is not necesarily a bad thing, and I would be lying if I said I didn't, at certain times, want someone special in my life, if only so that I could get head more frequently. At any rate, there was always a relationship type among my friends, but now, with these drunk sluts pairing off like squirrels in springtime, the relationship type is becoming far more difficult to grasp. And I'm truly shocked that these women would throw away their considerable powers over many nice penises for The One Penis. It's like Superman giving up his powers in "Superman 2" so he could be with Lois. I mean, she was swell and all, but he could shoot frickin lasers out of his eyes!


Of the five drunk sluts, 2 were already in long term relationships. And, to be frank, they are the least powerful and least titalicious of the group. And now, in the past 2 weeks, 2 more have fallen. One is already talking about moving to California to be closer to her man whom she just got together with last week! The other has just become engaged. Engaged! Engaged at 25! I want to shake this girl, this fabulous slut who is dismisses any penis under 7 1/2 inches, and scream at her, "HOW ARE YOU GOING TO WASTE THOSE AMAZING TITS OF YOURS?!" Is she really done with all the hot dicks she's had? How can she not want more hot dicks?


At this point it may occur to you that maybe I'm just projecting. And maybe I am, but that doesn't change the facts. The facts are these: These drunk sluts have had some sort of existential crisis, and, instead of letting the dark clouds pass, they have acted rashly. Patience is not one of the virtues of a drunk slut. On the prowl this serves them well, but it's not good for existential crises, which must be faced down, alone, in a dark alley, and kicked in the shins with ball-toed boots. These drunk sluts have forgotten the proper order of things. They have misplaced their priorities. I don't how or why, but I do know they need help. These drunk sluts have lost their way.

Comments:
After last season's smash hit, our staff took a brief sabbatical. We went our separate ways. Some of us searched for enlightenment, some searched for poonani, but most were seeking recompense from the painful carpel tunnel injuries that were sustained in those crazy all night writing sessions during last season's sweeps week. Our brains exhausted and our bodies failing, but we here at Marctrums decided to persevere and reunite. We heard the massive outpouring of praise, affection and preference over dantrums (100% of responses were overwhelmingly positive!), so we decided that we couldn't be selfish and keep this font of inspiration to ourselves - we simply HAD to share. Its for the good of the people! So say we all! So leave your loafers at the door, pull up a stool and grab a glass and a handful of ass everyone, its time for the greatly anticipated Marctrums: Season 2, Episode 1. "THE RETURN FROM EXODUS"

Act 1, Scene 1.
We find the cast of our blogtrums sadly marooned on a desert island somewhere in the Pacific. Morale is low, and so are resources. Until recently, our protagonist has been completely unable to 'make it' here. He wasn't even earning his own keep and his wicked step-girlfriend had all the power in their relationship! (OH NO!) Oh yes, for she was out of the house a full 8 hours each day, studying, working and feeling important! She was, as they say, winning the bread, bringing home the bacon and wearing the pants - yet she brought home neither bacon nor wheat products! However, she certainly wore the shit outta them pants...

But finally, after months of struggle things were looking up! (Hooray!) Our fearless gentle man found a beautiful dog to lavish with attention in a cunning plot to incite jealousy in his terribly evil but dim-witted partner. He also found a reliable Nipponese-made automobile to convey him to any number of destinations and points of interest on his desert isle. These truly were happy times. Unfortunately these times were to be cut short by a tragedy of greenish peanut-filled turd-like proportions.

The dog-plan backfired! Devil-girl and the Brown Bitch were working together. Our hero had been double crossed. First they conspired to make his car suck total ass. Then they refused to put any more money into fixing it! So there it sat and leaked and rusted (and leaked some more) for countless (8) days at their local desert isle Chevron station. (Gasp!).

Senor Stud came to terms with this, "a car wasn't everything" he said. He was also heard to exclaim "Shit! Motherfucking Christ!". But now he had a job! In a few weeks he'd have enough cold hard cash in his pocket to buy an 88 Nissan! He was clearly trading up. The bus would be fine til then. Especially because he had his gleaming silver-white 20gig Ipod from 2003. In this day and age, it was one of a kind! An antique. If he could count on nothing else, he could count on that.

Suddenly, in a rare instance of cunning wittiness, The Evil One taught the Bitch a vile new trick. The four-legged fucker ran, full tilt, across our kitchen floor, skidded under the table, got her despicable little head caught on the hanging loop of the earphones cord, and yanked it pitilessly to the floor where she proceeded to stomp, claw, drool, and shit upon it - just as they had rehearsed time and time again for their most sinister plot.

That was it, it was all over. Right there and then our fearless leader's heart split into seventeen separate pieces, shattered, and then detonated scattering those pieces into the farthest corners of the galaxy. No doubt where one day another hero might journey to find them, say, in video-game form, and collect them, perhaps in order to reassemble them, and then probably to call upon the almighty power of marctrums to smite down some wily, breasted, villainess with the righteous and furious fires contained within.

stay tuned...

Incidentally our car lasted for exactly 2 months. Including price of purchase, insurance, repairs and fuel it cost us roughly $800.00 dollars. Dahlia, you rode in, benefited from, and generally basked in the radiance of our car during a ten day period. Therefore, I have calculated (by dividing 800 dollars by 60 days and then muliplying by 10 and rounding down) that the sum that you owe to us is no less than $133.00. I think you'll find my math accurate and true, if you can indeed DO math. Please make a check or money order out to Marctrums - Care of Marc Haggerty, and have that to our office before the end of the month. Thank you Slag,
Sincerely lovingly,
Marctrums
 
On a side note, if anyone is ever looking to repair (or maybe just eviscerate) their Ipod, I found this great blog called 'Josh Highlands Blog' that I think everyone should start reading regularly. I know, its got a pretty creative name, but it could've been a lot cooler - Imagine 'Highlandstrums'! Nice ring, eh? Check it out.
http://notpopular.com/blogs/josh/2005/12/24/replacing-the-hardrive-of-an-ipod

incidentally, if anyone has an extra, working, 20gig Ipod hard drive with the appropriate 2003 ports that they don't need anymore, I'm totally in the market... that is assuming that my enraged smashing against my cinder block walls didn't do any further damage.
 
that joshtrums link again is

http://notpopular.com/blogs/josh/
2005/12/24/replacing-the-
hardrive-of-an-ipod
 
Who's this dan guy? I was told this was the place to come for marctrums. I cant believe that dan guy stole the title of his blog from marc.
 
drunk sluts are soooo 2005, okay? get used to it.
 
Dear Marctrums,
It appears that your commenters, namely 'Steph', have clearly missed the point of your enlightening article. It is regretful that you must concern yourself with these ignora-holes. Pearls before swine, eh?

-Dan Ehrlich
 
keepin' it real

who wants to fingerfuck?!?###
 
Daniel-

I keep coming back to the website hoping to see some new writing. What's going on here?

Do you need inspiration?

Love,
Your Editor
 
that fucking piece of shit! she's such a poser! i bet she wasnt even DRUNK when she wrote that crap about finger fucking! i've had 5 raspberry vodkatinis and its not even halftime yet. when the band begins to sound, my panties'll hit the ground, and then we'll see who the fingerfucking allstar is! its ME thats who! ME! may the great lord jesus christ personally fuck you with the greek lord zeus's almighty hammer while simultaneously fistfucking your anus with a handful of thunderbolts, IMPOSTOR!!!

love, the REAL drunk slut numbah 1, aka dahlia bursell

ps marctrums 4 eva!
 
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