Many people take their kids trick or treating for Halloween. It’s cute. They get their candy, dress up as a Disney princess or a super hero and other parents smile while giving away free shit. That’s great and all, but I prefer my Halloween to be a bit more scandalous.
Disney Princess? Give me a girl with her tits hanging out of a shell bra for Ariel. Give me Tinkerbell with her skirt so far up her ass you can see the methane leave that girl’s butt from 1 too many beers at the bar. For dudes, give me a fat guy in a spandex Spider-Man suit or something blatantly racist, sexist, or otherwise offensive. This is my holiday. I am what I am for it. You all are too.
Like most who enjoy this festivities of tomfoolery, we like to partake in the great words of our fore fathers, which is: “Let’s get fucked up!” So that I tried my damnedest to do my friends. I crushed some good ‘ol IPA’s with the bros at the pregame before going to a place called Howl at the Moon, known for their dueling piano bar and rainbow concoctions they like to call mixed drinks. But they come in fucking buckets. I got the “medium” which is probably suitable for an alcoholic of my stature. It was called a Fruit Roll-up. Like I should have known I’d be fucked by that name. I slugged that sucker down so damn fast. What a waste of $20 damn dollars.
Then it hit me. My stomach felt like it was going to lurch out of my body. Not in a pukey kind of way, but in an “I think I might have induced appendicitis on my own” kind of way. I was in severe pain. I also was in too tight leather pants, which could have caused the issued. Anyways, my buddy sees me drink-less and buys me a beer. I start drinking it. Within one sip of that carbonated goodness, my stomach started to feel better.
What does a beer loving blogger do with impending appendicitis that is only healed by beer? He drinks more beer of course, and within the hour ya boy was back in business, dancing on the dance floor, staring up Tinkerbell’s skirt, grinding with a female Jon Snow making (spoiler alert) incest jokes that she couldn’t hear (thank god) because it was too loud. Standard night. And it is all thanks to hops, barley, water, and yeast.