To me, Halloween is just an excuse to wear a suit. Not that you ever need an excuse to wear a suit. I just like to enjoy my Halloween by having slutty urologists and angels grabbing at my lapels. I’m just a whore like that.
I was keeping it simple; slim black suit, white shirt, black tie that was untied because I was Halloween, I can do what I want. This is important to the story, okay?
I ditched this party I was going to go to in at USC where there was also a shooting to go to Hollywood with this girl I was setting my eyes on. So I dodged that bullet. Yes, pun intended, motherfucker.
That’s not the story anyways. If it was, the title would be “My dick saved my way too sober ass” and it would a terribly boring story. “Yo bro I didn’t to this party that had a shooting cause I was tryna fuck the chick” does not make a good story.
Anyways, I’m at this girl’s apartment with a bunch of her friends and some guys that wanted to fuck them. We were all about to go to the Halloween parade in west Hollywood. One good thing about not being homophobic: you get to go to the best Halloween events ever and none of them are lacking in girls dressed as slutty variations of whatever they dreamt of being as 6 year-olds.
So yes, side note, girls dressed as slutty cats, or things in the such, are either really lazy or really crazy. Dress accordingly.
Anyways again, we’re pregaming before we go to this thing because it’s going to be swarming with police and would be really hard to sneak a drink. You think that would’ve it safe too. And this girl, who’s been staring at my suit since I walked into the apartment, puts two shot glasses on the table in front of us, looks at me dead in the eyes and says, “you think you can drink more than me?” Except that she said it the way that if she said “you want to fuck me?” It would’ve sounded exactly the same. So we start pouring each other shots and giving each other “fuck me” eyes when we drink. I like to call this fuck me drinking because that’s what it is.
Next thing we notice is that we’ve gotten so drunk, that everyone has left us to go and we were alone in the apartment. I had already drank so much that I should’ve had limp dick except for fuck me drinking is a really twisted turn on for me so Big Louie and The Twins had been ready for their show to start for over an hour.
Fellas, if you’re so shit-faced that you find yourself having to switch positions because you can’t handle standing up while you’re busy making babies, you may be a little too drunk to fuck.
But if hadn’t gotten so drunk and actually left with our so-called friends, we would’ve been right by the corner of Hollywood blvd and Whitley when the shooting happened. Would I have gotten hit? Probably not. Actually, almost definitely not. But “how my suit saved my life” is a way better name for a story then “I spent my Halloween getting shit-faced before we even got to the party, having the most drunken, sloppy (in the least awesome way possible) sex ever and spending the hour after helping each other as we took turns vomiting out our intestines.” What’s in a name anyways?
And I didn’t even ruin my suit either.