I hate it. Part XXVI.

I hate Halloween. I hate kids and I hate tricks and I like savory things more than sweet things. October 31st is my worst nightmare. Not because it is spooky. Because it is a pain in the ass. If I am going to dress up like a freak I will do it on my own time. I don't need society to give me one day a year when it is suddenly okay for me to show my true colors. Last year I was Cindy McCain. So obviously herein lies the crux of my holiday dilemma. I am brilliant at choosing costumes but I just hate the holiday. As is life.

I hate Halloween movies, Halloween colors, but most of all I hate pets in costume. Why? Because I love it so much and I know I should hate it because it is wrong to dress up one's cat or dog and that really pisses me off. Look at that pet in costume. It fucking hates you. In summation: You can be the jackass that you yearn to be all year long and dress up like a giant baby or a gargantuan skankbrains but leave your pet out of it. My fridge smelled like rotting cheese--not sure why--so I cleaned it with tons of bleach. The bleach is what makes me so angry.

ARG! Big Boi is so good. Listen to his voice? Do you hear that? This is classified as "feeling so good, inspirational hip-hop now sound." It is that melodic ding ding and gospel cooing that creates a goose down landing strip when you reach the jump off.

I will listen to it and maybe take it home.