I’m back!!!!! After a long break (the humper’s computer was out of commissions due to a bad porn site) I have decided to make a literary comeback. While I would love to tell you all how I have been able to hump tons and tons (no pun intended) of women while I was away, it has not happened. The Humper has been in a real drought. I seem to only meet good looking ladies these days and while they will speak to the man, they refuse to sleep with him. I think that it has to do with my drinking habit of blacking out and saying things that are illegal in all 50 states but somehow are not in the District (that is the District of Columbia for all of you CA people). This brings me to my next adventure that I have titled, 2 Reasons to Not Black Out in Bars. This all started with a bottle of Jack and the NBA playoffs. I was sitting at home getting ready to meet all of my rugby buddies down at the bar. I decided that it would save me a few dollars to drink some whiskey while I watched my hometown Sacramento Kings play the San Antonio Spurs. Things were not going too well for the Kings and I kept drinking. By the time that I had gotten on the subway to head to the team bar I was feeling great. I reached the bar and most of the guys were already drinking and having a good time. Things were going well and everyone was having a wonderful time even though it was a typical rugby party…no women within a 100 mile radius. We kept drinking anyway, as the pickings are sparse every weekend. About 4 beers into the bar scene, one of my good buddies asked me if I wanted to go to a party down the street. He told me there was a ton of college age congressional interns that would love to meet idiot guys like us. The Humper even thought that there might be a few fatties that would provide some good material for this column. Off we went to look for the plethora of pussy. When we got there the pussy was flowing and the beer was good looking. There were three kegs and a red plastic gas can that the girls were being told to drink from. There were very few takers but I was intrigued. My buddy Garth (names changed to protect the innocent) and I decided to pound as many of their free beer before we headed back to the bar. We got down to about 6 beers each and we were drunk but still in control when I decided to try the gas can. As you might have guessed the can was filled with Jungle Juice that was 80% vodka and 20% lemonade. Boy was it good. I proceeded to drink quite a bit of the love juice. This is where my night coherently ended. We left the party for the bar and ………………… I do not remember the next three hours. I came too briefly on the street outside of the bar as a bouncer was physically throwing me on to the street to six cop cars that were apparently there for me. I then went back into my black out and do not remember what else happened. I woke up the next morning with blood on my pillow (never a good sign), a cut above my right eye, and a broken nose. I had no idea how I got home or how these bruises miraculously appeared on my face. After speaking with my friends who I was with that night they told me that I was so drunk that I was feeling up women, the good looking ones, and buying Irish Car Bombs for all of them and along with one for myself. Things were good until I disappeared to the back patio of the bar where there was no one and apparently broke some glass and threw a chair. According to a hot chick named Cassandra (like in Wayne’s World) the bouncers then proceeded to kick my ass! I bet they felt good beating up a guy that could barely stand. This is where I received the cut and the broken nose. The fuckers then called the cops on me and threw me out of the bar. I missed going to jail because some of my buddies were able to convince the cops that I was okay and that they would take me home. I think that the cops knew that someone kicked my ass and that when I woke up in the morning I was going to have enough shit to deal with. The moral of this story is that while it is fun to black out and risk getting arrested, it is a better way to live if you lay off the booze a little and search for that special fatty that no one else will speak to. Happy hog hunting! On side note, the word from New Zealand is that Loren Brown has met up with and fucked Vaii’s distant cousin and is trying to make a Maori Wacky Warren. I think that the prop baby is on the way. Please Loren, if you read this, send pictures!!!!! Plumper Humper is journalist for the Fart Times, Fat Girl Annon., and a contributor on farteaters. com. Do not forget to read his newly released book “Why Queefs Stink”. You can reach Mr. Humper at noyoucannot@notgonnahappen.fuku |
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| The Plumper Humper blacks out 6/2/06 |