Sunday, November 02, 2008

Halloween is my favorite holiday, ever.

And not just because of the lame excuse everyone gives. "I like it because I can dress up and be something different!" "I like it because no one judges me!".

Fuck that.

I love Halloween because it's one gigantic party, and because everyone is dressed like an idiot or a slut, they all loosen up.

This Halloween, I decided that I was going to celebrate the way the Pagans intended. By dressing like a slut and drinking myself into a coma.

I went to a dive bar with a big group of girls and had a great time.

I spent most of the night having my ass grabbed by the random hot female bartender who looks like Christina Applegate. The rest of the night was kind of a blur, fueled by a shit load of beer.

I vaguely remember making out with a pilot, a Greek, and a girl. And a pickle.

I made out. With a pickle.

And I gave him my number. Which is not something I usually do. He's called me 6 times since Halloween. I barely remember talking to him. If I was drunk enough to give a total stranger my cellphone number, there is no way in hell I'm going to remember what we talked about.

He wants to meet up sometime and hang out. Which creates a problem.

What exactly do you say to the pickle you drunkenly made out with? "Hi, you look less green and phallic today"? Only me.

Next Halloween, someone take my cell phone away.

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