Halloween used to be so awesome. There was nothing more satisfying than a pharmacy costume and free candy. You’d eat all the good ones while trick or treating, then get home and realize all you have left are lemon and grape flavored Now&Laters and Tootsie Rolls. Gross.

There’s no reason for the Moby picture other than that I fucking hate him. Look at that face… What a douche. *shakes fist* DAMN YOU MOBY! >=/

Anyway.

But what a retarded “Holiday” we all agree on as a society to be apart of. There is nothing weird about little kids knocking on your door asking for candy when we explicitly tell little kids to avoid any adults who offer them candy. But it’s A-OK when Mr. Macky touches your penis this time of year little Jimbo.

The people who give out money are extra awesome, except for the old ladies who give out pennies. Do we look like we’re on our way to an enchanted wishing well, you bitch! I don’t think so.

Fatty Patty was dressed like a giant Duck yesterday and the only thing I regret more than not getting a picture of her fat ass eating cupcake batter, was not getting footage of my other roommate saying, “So you’re a chicken?! oh my god you’re a little chicken! cluck! cluck! cluck!” and Fatty Patty goes “Yeah…” because she is too insecure to correct her.

I purposefully avoided human contact yesterday because there is nothing more irritating than art school students trying to be ironic with their costumes, “I’m crazy Britney Spears!” No, you’re just fat and wearing a halter top, slut.

“I’m a hipster!” Don’t you fucking get me started on that one! Niggas are trying to make a bitch crack! But I am strong.

Madame CJ Walker would have a field day with her Bitch, Just Cause Your Fatass Body Can Fit into a Size Small, Don’t Mean You ARE a Size Small Humectant Shampoo.

When I was 15 I went to the Village Halloween Parade over here. I had just gotten out of a debate tournament and my friends and I were in the area. Not long after being swarmed by a dozen fat catwomans and the X-Men did intoxicated mermaids try to buy drugs off of us. I assume it had something to do with us being brown people, 15 years old, not wearing costumes and holding golden plastic trophies, that tipped her off. It was true we were sellin’ E. *oontz oontz*

Apparently we were, because on three seperate occassions that day people tried to buy E *oontz oontz* off of us.

I’m sorry I just fucking hate Moby and I wish his name were Mandoza so that I can yell MANDOOOOZA and and slam my fist on a desk while smoking a cuban cigar.

This isn’t music. This is what you listen to if you shop at American Apparel and I don’t mean just a couple of hoodies and super soft t-shirts, I mean those funky ass leotards and shit. Don’t even watch the whole thing because it doesn’t get any better.

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