Fuck Halloween
That’s right, Fuck Halloween. Yeah, I said it.
Halloween, not unlike New Years Eve and second semester senior year, is a time when a bunch of people who normally don’t hang out and party feel as though they somehow have a right to take to the streets and get wild. WRONG!
In NYC the past two years, I had awful experiences with said people who, after a Coors light of two, were unable to control themselves. In New Orleans, at least there was an element of wilding out in the air and Frenchman street always had some dude with a nitrous tank.
This year, I’m going up (down?) to Connecticut to hang out at Wesleyan with my homegirl and Abraham. It should be a good time, or at the very least, I’ll be able to show some college kids how to binge drink. I expect that I’ll be able to generate a post out of the weekend, and if nothing post worthy has happened by Saturday night, I’ll start a forest fire. Fuck the forest anyway.
This is what I imagine me in rural Connecticut will look like.
(this flick was taken in LI after daytime drinking so extreme I was kicked out of an alley outside of a Pizza place on 72nd street not once, but twice by the delivery boy. You should see the expression on the girl I cropped out of the flick, it’s one of awe, by which I mean sheer horror.)
