Sunday, October 30, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Whenever I get on the topic of sluts, one particular event always pops into my thought process. It is an event like no other, when Champions walk amongst men and girls tear their clothes off to bow at our feet. It is a sacred event, unparalleled in its nature and envied by those on the outside looking in. It is a tradition that goes by many names, but it is most commonly referred to as the Revue.
Sponsored by my Oneonta fraternity, the Revue is an annual contest to see which sorority can get the most naked. Seriously. They just get naked. There are a number of competitions that help us to determine the winner, and the sorority that ends up being the victors gets to party with us that night. This might sound absurd, and even down right mind boggling, but you should understand that this event is pulled off because my fraternity is a bunch of Champions constantly on the hunt to feed their champion urges. There is also an open bar to get all of the girls nice and loose.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
With that said, being a champion makes me a sort of "jack-of-all-trades." Besides being an amazing writer, an intellectual genius, a sexual expert, a gifted athlete, and an all around non-fuck giver, I'm also a talented musician. So I'm going to share with you guys a song I made, based on the true events from my life. I play all the instruments, sing, and produce the track, because a Champion doesn't need help, he can carry the team to victory on his back.
The song is a re-telling of the events of the last night I shared with an ex-girlfriend. She was one of my first real girlfriends, and it was before I realized how much of a champion I am. I'm not sure why she broke up with me, maybe it was the binge drinking, random acts of explosive anger, or the blatant flirting with other girls right in front of her. Anyways, here its:
Monday, October 10, 2011
With so many lockouts happening in sports, I figured it would be good to tell you guys about a lockout that I was involved in. It was a couple years ago, in the land of Oneonta.
I went back downstairs and started to mingle, getting a feel for the overall situation. In between funnels and keg stands, my friend Al informed me that a girl I used to have sex with was in town. This little piece of information would prove to be very valuable as my night went on. I thanked him for the intel and decided to go let loose and have some fun. The party was at its peak, with the strobe lights and DJ’s working their magic on a dance floor packed to full capacity. I realized that no music had made me feel that good since George Harrison’s guitar gently wept. I started my classic half dancing/half molesting maneuvers and began hunting for a female target.