Oh When the Sluts, Go Marching In….Oh Lord I Want to be In that Number…Oh When the Sluts Go Marching In!

It doesn’t matter if you are a 14 year old boy walking down the hall of your high school hiding a boner with your Algebra textbook freshman year; a drunk frat guy; a 20-something associate at a law/accounting/marketing firm; a 30-something married guy with a baby at home; or an octogenarian upon the porch of the assisted living facility….Halloween weekend is your weekend!  This is when every gal from Pismo to Provincetown, from Fond du Lac to Fort Lauderdale, and all points in between, come out of the woodwork and let their inner trollop run free.  Here a slut, there a slut, everywhere a butt-slut!  There is a slut to fit every personality: Slutty Nurse; Slutty Pirate; Slutty Snow White; Slutty Devil; Slutty Cat; Slutty Tiger; Farm Slut; Swedish Maid Slut; Slutty Blackjack Dealer; Slutty Kardashian Sister (Haha, tried to slide an oxymoron by you there, you’re too smart for that shit); Catholic School Slut; Slutty Angel (Or Victoria’s Secret model, if you’re nasty); Slutty Cowgirl; Slutty Princess; Slutty Bumble Bee; Slutty Teacher; Slut Witch; Vampire Slut; really only your own imagination can limit what kind of slut you can be that night.  This is also what makes Halloween so dangerous.  Women who use this one night each year to air their inner-strumpet grievances to the world cause shitfaced men to believe that just because they are jutting their ass out from beneath a mini-skirt in every Halloween photo they take like Little Red Riding Slut up there, that they want to be taken home and treated as such.  Not so much.  Sure, there are those who use this as free, honest advertising, and Crom bless them for that.  But for most, this is an opportunity to act out some inhibitions in appearance only.  Which leads to a lot of poor, rejected, bombed men who must then go home and smoke grass and watch original “Halloween” until their fucking eyes bleed.  This can also lead to a lot of sexual frustration for those who do manage to get Kitten Slut back to their home, only to find out that if you want the milk, you’ve got to feed, water, and change her litter box for 3 months first  :(   .  So be careful gentlemen; though a Sexy Leopard may lick her paws and purr at you all night, penetration does not this guarantee. 

So all you lecherous bastards out there, let the slut parade begin!  And if you’ve committed to going out with your significant other this weekend, I highly recommend a costume which necessitates a pair of dark glasses.  Terminator, Top Gun, Cyclops from X-Men, Child Molester, whatever.  You don’t want your wandering eyes to result in you losing out on guaranteed intercourse later that night.  Everyone loses there.   

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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2 Responses to Oh When the Sluts, Go Marching In….Oh Lord I Want to be In that Number…Oh When the Sluts Go Marching In!

  1. Anonymous says:

    I don't know what Saturday's forecast is in your neck of the woods, but it's supposed to drop below 30 here in Ohio. Won't matter. Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow, whatever…

  2. Zachary Giles says:

    You are spot-on NP. If you are thinking that someone isn't squeezing into her whorish costume just because of some snow flurries, then you don't know Halloween.

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