Halloween is our favorite holiday, and it's mostly because it's sweater weather and the kids haven't figured out they don't actually have to give us half of their candy as payment for the gas it took to drive them from our rural existence to a populated neighborhood to trick or treat.
I plan to spend the day watching Dance Mom marathon and Center Stage (COOPER NIELSEN!).
I feel like my stunt double would have been Chris Farley with a red wig and fake boobs.
The answer is, yes we do. because we're grown ass 30 year olds who are tired of seeing shitty cartoon movies in 3D, sharing our popcorn and candy, and just want cheap bottles of wine, fried green beans, banana spring rolls and to talk about anal sex at the dinner table using our outside voices.
I hope to see you at our next gathering, where White Russians flow like holy water.
I don't like a lot of people, I cope with that by not giving confessionals about them in front of a camera in an off the shoulder cocktail dress.
If I had to sum it up in a series of declaratory statements, they would be... Well. That's a bush.
(Disclaimer: I can't watch that show because the mom is too heavy of a mouth breather, and that makes my neck hair stand up. Like nails on a chalkboard. It's a hard limit.)
I'd fly Keanu Reeves Express Air if it was a good price, wasn't shaped like a phone booth, and they didn't have a Chicago layover, because O'Hare collects connecting flights like fucking Gollum.
Can we have your personal phone number to drunk text you ideas and/or compromising badly lit cell phone pics at all hours of the night?
