Three years ago, Halloween was the best fucking holiday ever. Friday night, a crew of not yet recurring Propeller Skies characters and I attended the Wednesday Night Drinking Club party at The Mansion. That shit was superlative. We later took a cab over to Northside Tavern, where I did not get into a fight. After drinking our fill there, we took a cab back to The Quiet One’s apartment and left The Beaver, who was half asleep, on the couch. The Quiet One and I had a case of the mad munchies, so we headed to the Majestic and had some tasty food. Back at the apartment, we discovered Michelle making out in the parking lot with some random guy, dressed as a male stripper, who she had picked up at The Mansion.

Saturday night, we attended Brimstone Boogie at the Atlanta Brewing Company. As we got out of the cab, not yet recurring Propeller Skies characters Chris and Amy walked up dressed as a priest and a Catholic school girl, respectively. The beer was craptastic, but there was plenty of it for the twenty dollar cover. After drinking as much free craptastic beer as we could stand, we took a cab home and accidentally left my cracka Crunk B in the VIP. Motherfucker should have answered his cell instead of shoving his tongue down some bitch’s throat. Back to The Quiet One’s apartment we crashed. I woke up the next morning and found Crunk B sleeping in the cab of his truck with his robot costume neatly stacked in the back.

I do not remember Halloween two years ago.

Last year was mediocre. Rejection Hotline’s Halloween Hookup was fun, but Spiralween blew goats.

This year, Halloween is a fucking disaster. Wednesday Night Drinking Club is holding Scary Party Five at East Andrews. Fuck that. East Andrews is always packed full of fake ass $30,000 millionaires and obnoxious yuppie douchebags. And the staff there is a bunch of cunts. Brimstone Boogie returns to Atlanta this year with a load of bullshit. Twenty five dollars to get in and a goddamn cash bar? Fuck you, motherfuckers.