Yes, yes, there were costumed people.
Yes, there was some eatin’ and drankin’. Probably more drankin’ going on that strictly necessary, being as how at some point during the evening the ground started wobbling under my feet. Ahem.
Yes, there was a fire, and candy, some netherbit flashing, costumes to slowly shed, and even a late-night visit from an extraordinarily chatty neighbor who took the entertainment value of the evening from about a 7 straight up to 11. For that one, you had to be there. “Porn couch,” indeed.
Yes, even with the tremendous quaffage in which I took part I remember almost all of Tiffowe’en ’08, and the pictures proving that there might be some bits that I’m not in total recall of will remind me of all the rest, but no matter. My backyard to party in, my bed to pour myself into, my bottle of ibuprofen to swallow the next morning.
Plus which? The next day there was talking and chatting and visiting and dry ice bombs and a POTATO CANNON. Nothing gets you over a hangover faster than blowing shit up, right?
Right.
Oh, and chili. And roasting marshmallows in da fire pit, and copious amounts of water.
Man, it was fun.
How was YOUR Hallowe’en?
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