I don't get Halloween. Well, I understand its premise and existence but as some kind of night of revellry, I only see the tills of retailers and licenced establishments ringing loudest to its spooky tune.
I guess that's why, on a no doubt thoroughly lucrative evening for the aforementioned, I was wearily pulling the covers over my head at the miserly time of 11 p.m.
The fact I'd wolfed down a chicken korma and was suffering the effects of chronic indigestion did nothing to help my countenance. As those in the flat above did the 'Monster Mash' and sipped on ghost cocktails, I was already prepared to enjoy the extra hour in bed as the clocks went back, not really giving a shit.
I suppose my miserabilist loathing of fancy dress affects my ability to enjoy this imported 'holiday'. It's not that I don't appreciate others' fine skeleton make-up, it's just that I feel a complete tool when similarly daubed.
So whilst baristas and the free-spirited had an excuse, if ever one was needed, to dress up and consume vast quantities of intoxicating substances, this scrooge was fast asleep with the sounds of yet another re-run of Friends in the background, drowning out the screams from drink-addled students frequenting the Winton house party scene.
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2 comments:
I never thought I would agree with this opinion, but I’m starting to see things differently.
Do you not see the irony here? I'm kinda of puzzled, whether the author of this article a real person or a robot.
I mean, how hard can it be to just be spontaneous. It is. And sometimes you just can't post random shit like this.
Hey, can I get in touch with you via email? You seem to be experienced in this topic.
When I see my comments being removed I get upset. I'm not the one who should get upset.
Whisper my favorite words: "I'll buy it for you."
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