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Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Resolutions Are A Lie Made Up By Hallmark!

Ask any regular gym-goer when is the worst time for gyms.

Some might be idiots who misunderstand the question and reply something like “Uhh...maybe around 6 pm?” or “Mondays.”

But most people will tell you that it’s right around the corner. January sucks. As someone who drags my butt to the gym 4-5 days a week, I can tell you that you ridiculous flash-in-the-pan new years resolution people are the worst. You’re there at peak hours, you’re wearing clearly new gym clothes, and you crowd the place up.

I just want to do my butterfly curls in peace, people. Not on a rotation with 3 other people!

For those of you who think I’m being harsh, let me clarify. I think it’s super-awesomely-great that you’re taking an interest in working out and getting healthy. Exercise is great for you, including releasing endorphins, which make you feel great, increasing your endurance and stamina, and can help you stay healthy long term.

But the people who sign a 12-month gym contract on January 1, only to work out like a fiend for 4 days and then quit, those are the ones I’m talking about.

Don’t fall prey to the idea that you HAVE to have a new year’s resolution, and don’t join a gym because you “should.” Join because you genuinely are ready to get healthy, feel good, sweat a lot, and you WANT to. That’s the only way you’ll stick to it.

It’s a big waste of money to have a contract membership at a gym you've only gone to a handful of times. Especially considering you can run outside or do workout DVDs at home for free (if you already own Sweatin’ To The Oldies. If not, buy it, it’s amazing).

I hate New Year’s resolutions.

I hate feeling like I “have” to decide to fix something about myself. You know what? I go to the gym year round because I want to be healthy and not die young. Which I wouldn't anyway, since I've heard from a very reliable source that only the good die young.

I do not make resolutions for new years. One thing I do is at the very end of every year, I tend to go back and think about the previous year, about things that have changed and happened, the people, the events, the highlights and pitfalls, and I usually write a fairly sappy and myopic journal entry about the previous year and what I am thankful for and looking forward to in the coming year.

And you know what? I don’t write anything about stuff I hate about myself and how I’m going to go charging around on January 1st fixing it.

Changing and improving of self is an endless, timeless thing. You don’t have to focus on the new year as a time for change, but instead, focus on yourself and what you WANT to (not “should”) improve, and take small steps throughout each year to improve yourself.

Don’t stop smoking just for the New Year. If you only do it because of a deadline, it won’t stick. Do it because you are ready, and it’s the best thing for you and your lungs.

And for the love of gods, get the hell off of my elliptical machine!!!!

But seriously, while some people need to relax on the whole resolution thing, it’s not a bad thing to look at what you want to improve and plan on doing so. I just don’t think you should have to do it at a specific time or force it before you’re ready.

I’d like to write and publish a book about confidence for young people, finish writing the musical I’ve been working on in my spare time and see it blow up on broadway, and write and record more songs and then sell them and make lots of money.

None of that is being declared for the new year. They are simply goals I’d like to someday achieve.

To end, here is an inspirational quote from Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe:

"We must always change, renew, rejuvenate ourselves; otherwise we harden."

And one from Winston Churchill: "To improve is to change; To be perfect is to change often."

So, go forth, set goals that don't rely on a specific time of year! Be happy, be healthy, be abnormal and original. Be silly, be fun, and be with good people. --That one is from me. :)

Thursday, December 19, 2013

I Made A New Meme!

So, I've given this at least a little bit of thought, and I think it's about time I was internet-famous. Not real famous, because I don't like the idea of living my life in a fishbowl and having random tabloids taking up close and personal pictures of cellulite and telling the world I am either pregnant or engaged every 15 minutes.

But internet-famous is a whole other ball game. First of all, the internet is awesome. Feel free to ask Redditers and people on Tumblr what they think about it.

Secondly, memes are a big thing. It's a picture with basically a short story on it, aided by the picture. One of my favorites is the "NAILED IT." meme, which is when someone tries to recreate a craft or food item, usually from Pinterest, and fails horrifically and hysterically. Here is a link to a recent buzzfeed article compiling some funny "Nailed It" memes. Pretty awesome, really. And people are laughing at themselves, which I also appreciate.

So after at least 3 minutes of intense thinking, I came up with a new meme that I'd like to introduce to the world. "ALMOST DIED."

Short stories of people who thwarted death. 

I messed around with the pictures as the basis of the meme, and finally landed on an entertaining tripping sign as the one I used for almost all of them. I used a different picture for a couple of them, just to see if it would still work with a different picture for different stories of almost dying. 

My friend Megan got into the spirit and contributed some of her own harrowing anecdotes of times she has stared death right in the face, smiled, and flipped it off as she went about her day.

Enjoy! And don't be too critical, it's my first shot at making memes! (To do this, I used an online meme generator that allows you to upload your own pictures as backgrounds and not just use a template of pre-existing memes. I used this one.)

The following 7 pictures are anecdotes of times I've laughed in the armpit of death.

The following 7 images are courtesy of Megan, who bravely faces down death on a daily basis. We are all kind of waiting to hear stories about her death, which will most likely involved a cat or 17. To be fair, Megan is my very favorite crazy cat lady, and the following memes are not accurately indicative of the amount of cat anecdotes she has in her life. 

What do you people think? This could become popular and viral and make internet HISTORY. Or, you know, be fun for awhile and then get overplayed and annoying. :) 

Either way, bring on the internet fame! Megan and I will be sitting with a bunch of cats, waiting for the phone to ring.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

See, Write, Sing.

I have been a writer for longer than I can remember. 

I kept journals as a small child, writing about the depth of emotions only the young can feel that passionately. How much I hated school, my brother, bedtimes. How cute a boy was, or how unfair my parents were.

Normal childhood angst.

Around middle or high school, my writings changed from insolent musings and critiques of the world around me and all those damn emotions, to poetry and lyrics. I still keep a journal, but it's more of an intermittent update of my life and a collection of lyrics and poems now.

I have been a singer for as long as I've written. 

My family is musical. My mom plays piano and sings, my brother plays drums and piano, and I did 7 years of violin, followed by another 7 or 8 of singing. Unfortunately for me, I can't play piano, which kind of sucks.

Boyfriend is a great guitar player, and while he did give me one of his old guitars, and I bought a bunch of books, so far I haven't done much with it. I will though. I'd love to be able to compose music, along with writing lyrics and melodies.

I don't know how it works for other songwriters, but I typically think of a lyric and a melody simultaneously, as if they were meant to be together. Very rarely do I have a poem all written out and later go back and add a melody.

My not-so-secret dream when I first moved to NYC was to find a way to record some of the songs I'd written, and maybe attempt to sell them. I met with a couple of very nice music producers, who took the time to sit down with me, see my lyrics, and give me some advice.

The strongest piece of advice was that no one was just a lyricist anymore. People wanted to buy completed full songs, not just lyrics or melodies. 

I lucked out and met Al Cohen, a producer up here that I could afford to work with a couple hours a week. He listened to my lyrics and melodies, then we worked together to make an accompaniment, and he plays every instrument you can imagine. 

Then we recorded. I'm lucky that I'm a decent singer! I didn't have to pay for someone to come in and sing on my demo songs, since I could do it myself.

Here are 2 of the songs I recorded. 

"It's All Me" is a more rock-y song, about a girl who tells a guy "It's not you, it's me" when breaking up, and accepting that he's mad about it. It was very fun to sing and write, and own. My favorite lyric is near the end:

"Not calling you.
I won’t apologize.
I never check my baggage at the door."

"Charming" is a cynical more pop-y song about the transition to carefree childhood to adult. My favorite part of this song is the bridge, which goes:

"And we don’t know what happened to forever.
And we stopped learning how to give our trust.
And someday, we’ll look back on all those summers.
And start to see exactly what we’ve lost."

So, check them out. I'm not promising that you'll suddenly be able to fly after hearing them, but for me, recording songs I wrote was a pretty life-changing experience. 

I haven't done anything about selling them, and maybe I never will. But I'm a dreamer, and who knows what will happen next?

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Buses, Butts, Foreshadowing, and Fancy Words.

Sometimes when typing “regards” I accidentally type “retards” without noticing.
That is why I always sign my work emails “Have a great day!”

This is a good view of what it’s like inside my head. These thoughts just come out of frickin’ NOWHERE.

Here is some lovely poetry that I sent Boyfriend via text while I was on a bus going from DC to NYC this past Sunday. Let me preface this by telling you that 1) I don’t do well just sitting down for a long amount of time while bored and 2) I don’t handle boredom all that well and 3) Patience may well be a virtue, but I never claimed to be virtuous.

Also, I have a flat butt and it provides zero cushioning and my butt had been numb since Maryland.

Boyfriend and I were texting, and he encouraged me to stop thinking about how annoying buses are, and maybe distract myself by writing poetry or something. First, he asked me how it was going. I said, “Boring.” then made fun of him for missing out on challah bread french toast that morning, then added “Die, bus. But after I get off of you.”

He said, “Oh, relax. Contemplate the meaning of life. Look up new games on the tablet. Muse on how awesome your boyfriend is.”

I did muse on his awesomeness for a moment. Until I remembered I was on a bus and my butt hurt.

I responded, “There is nothingness in contemplation. The bus has succeeded in sucking every meaningful and beautiful thing out of my world. My butt will never be whole again, not while I am riding this metallic monstrosity.”

...I have a penchant for drama when I get bored.

So he suggested I write some poetry. Something I enjoy, am fairly good at, and do often, when inspiration strikes. This was not a inspired set of verses. They are, however, entertaining and were very spur of the moment (as you can well see).

Here, I give you the most poignant verse and lines of our generation. The most moving of all poetry coming out of twenty-somethings in 2013. Someday these words will grace the texts of writing classes everywhere. They shall be chiseled into building faces and passed down orally between generations.

“Roses are red
Buses are gray.
Dear Jesus get me out of here.
To thee I pray.”

“Violets are purple
Not actually blue
I can’t feel my butt.
Can you?”

“Daisies are happy
Sunflowers, sunny,
I’m so hungry now
I’d eat bread and honey.
But not that gross bread with nuts and crap in the actual
Bread and not just on the crust.”

“Patience is a virtue
Or so I am told
But I never quite learned it.
I broke the mold.”

These were all sent as rapid fire texts, one right after the other.

I stopped for awhile, basking in the glow of my amazing words forming poems of beauty, which the world has never seen.

The I began feeling hopeful, as we were almost back in NY! I sent an excited text to Boyfriend about being so close.

He responds “Hopefully the tunnel won’t be too backed up.”

I swear, he says that stuff just to mess with me. Guess what? THE TUNNEL WAS BACKED UP. Thanks, jerkface! I could have sharkpunched the troll look right off his face for that dire foreshadowing.

To return to my previous dramatic mood, once I was in the tunnel, I sent Boyfriend “I’m in the tunnel. If it floods and I drown slowly, you would be sad.”

He agreed that he would be sad, but offered no reassurances as to my safety.

I finally got home. Eventually, I found my way to dreamland and into work the next day, and all is well.

Moral of the story: boyfriends are sorcerers who foresee crappy traffic and don’t even tell you that you won’t drown a sad, slow death in a tunnel under NYC.

Side note: Thanksgivikkah with my family was awesome. Presents are good, family is great. Drinking is nice. At one point, my brother, sister, and I all got a little tiny teensy bit drunk, chased each other around the house and wrestled. My brother threw me on the floor and “tickled” me. I put tickled in quotes because when I was a little kid, he would actually tickle me until I cried, and in this case, it was less of a tickle and more of a painful poking me in the sides repeatedly. I HAD BRUISES THE NEXT MORNING. And my poor sister had no idea why her shoulder hurt. I had an awesome time telling them how she threw herself over the banister on the stairs when bro and I were wrestling because she was trying to “help.”

….she never explained who she was trying to help. Brother or me? CONUNDRUM.

One time, I used the word “conundrum” in regular conversation with some coworkers, and one of them (not the sharpest stick) had been drinking and at the top of his lungs, he screamed out “DON’T USE YOUR FANCY JEW WORDS ON ME!”
It was hysterical.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

Alan Thicke's Son Kinda Sucks and Other Fun Music Notes.

It happened like a month ago and people are still talking about Miley Cyrus twerking in latex underpants.
Woo-frickity-hoo, people. A young pop star danced in what had more coverage than your average bikini.

Not that I enjoyed her oddly tongue-laced molestation of a foam representation of being number 1, but I think we’re all not talking about the most important thing, here.

A dude dressed as Beetlejuice sang a song about rape on national television and no one cares. His dad is all “I’m so proud of my son!” Yes, let’s be proud of your kid, who sings (did he write this?) “I know you want it. You’re a good girl. Can’t let it get past me.” Alan Thicke, if Kirk Cameron had done this crap on Growing Pains, you would not have been so nice, now would you?

This song was also featured on last week’s Glee. The teacher sang it while surrounded by his musically-inclined class sang backup. Jane Lynch’s evil character Sue Sylvester calls him out on singing a song about rape with a bunch of underage high school students.

She may be a little bit evil, but she’s not wrong. Robin Thicke: a name like a second string almost superhero, songs like an asshole frat boy.

First, I’d like to point out the sheer elegance and sophistication of today’s pop hits. Lady Gaga has penned a ballad that will go down as a classic, her lines “I live for the applause, applause applause. I live for the applause-plause, Live for the applause-plause.” just touches my soul in a way Billy Joel just never quite has.

Bruno Mars recently posited to the world: “You and me baby making love like gorillas.”

And I am not saying that the hippies are right and the music from the last generation “meant something” and was so much better and more meaningful than today’s top artists. There is crap music represented in every decade.

I love the Beatles. They had everything from meaningful to ridiculous, and it never gets old. That doesn’t mean every song was a masterpiece. Let’s take an objective look at the opening to “I Am A Walrus”

“I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
See how they run like pigs from a gun, see how they fly.
I'm crying.”

Yes, yes, tell me more. You do not sound like you’re SUPER HIGH AND STUFF or anything. And weirdly, I like that song a lot.

Don’t freak out. I love the Beatles, Springsteen, Billy Joel, Bon Jovi, the Temptations, and a lot of other music that is not of my generation. I still rock out to Lady Gaga with my 6 year old niece in the car, sing along with Katy Perry when it’s stuck in my head. I have a slightly nostalgic lean toward the Backstreet Boys and Avril Lavigne.

I am not condemning your music choices, my friend! I would never do that. I am pointing out that we like ridiculous music sometimes, and that is not an opinion, it is fact. Take a look at some of those lyrics and try to tell me it’s the Starry Night of music.


But we often do accept lyrics from our favorite artists that don’t make sense or kind of suck, and we do it because it’s catchy. I don’t like Selena Gomez’s “Come and Get It.” It is literally a song about loving someone and just hanging out, waiting for them to come and hang out with you. Chorus: “When you’re ready come and get it. na na na na.” Line from first full verse: “Can’t stop because I love it, hate the way I love you.”

That is not a healthy relationship right there. You should try counseling or something.

I know songs about real life normal love might not be as exciting, and like I said, it’s not like I don’t dance to these songs or sing along either. I just think we should take an objective view of the situation.

I guess a love ballad like this wouldn’t be as popular:

“Sitting in my sweatpants,
Watching Law & Order with you.
Chinese food and soda,
Typical Tuesday night.
Na na na na.

Saturday afternoon
Sitting around, eating a bagel.
Let’s run off together
To Target for more paper towels.”

But if you think it would be, feel free to make it famous, though I’d like writing credit and royalties. :)

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

We The Young People

My first thought as my bus from DC to NYC came into the city the other night was “Grilled Cheesus Crust, I can finally get off this bus!” My butt had been numb since Delaware.

Whenever I hear someone say something like “Jesus Christ, you scared me!” or something along those lines, I always have a moment where I think about a cartoon Jesus hiding around a dark corner and popping out and scaring someone before laughing hysterically, or a creepy Jesus in a trench coat flashing people in the park.

Religion is one of those things they say it’s not polite to talk about in an interview, on a date, or out in public. I don’t know when we all got so sensitive, maybe it’s just always been that way. When someone says something that you don’t agree with, religion-wise, it certainly isn’t a personal attack on you and all you stand for. And if it were me making the statement and it WAS a personal attack on you and all you stand’d KNOW it.

Something many people get wrong is that the United States was not discovered and settled as a land of freedom of religion. The Puritans came here to escape religious persecution in England, where Catholicism was the reigning religion, and England at that time believed that there MUST be uniformity of religion for a given society to thrive. This conviction rested on the belief that there was one true religion and this it was the duty of the civil authorities to impose it, by force when necessary, in the interest of saving everyone’s souls. The Protestants actually agreed with that, they just thought Catholicism needed reform, and to become more like Protestantism.  

So the Puritans came to the New World, not so that anyone could believe in whatever they wanted, but so that they could specifically believe in Protestantism, away from persecution from the Catholic leaders.

I feel like my generation is the one with the power to change the world. We are large in number, we scream for tolerance and change, and Generations X and Y was the first generations to be raised during the rise and rapid evolution of technology. We were among the first to be able to access the entire world and a wealth of information.

Today’s teenagers and young adults are spoiled from the ridiculous amount of technology and information at our fingertips. Who needs to remember numbers or how to do simple math when we can just use our phones and calculators? Who needs to actually read the classics when you can just Wikipedia the detailed summary? And why do people find it odd that I love to read for pleasure and don’t really get into video games? But whether we are spoiled, entitled, or just misunderstood in a changing world, we can change everything.

There are more people in Generation X and Y than there are in the Baby Boomer generation. The Baby Boomers are the ones currently holding office, holding the high level CEO jobs in a lot of companies, and are a lot of the ones making policies that affect our lives.

Imagine what we can do. We can literally change the world. We already have!

More young people voted in 2008 and 2012 than ever before. We voted, and it just goes to show that your vote DOES matter. Your vote helped change the direction our country was going in. Generations X and Y (Y is sometimes referred to as the Millennial Generation or the ‘Me Generation’) have live tweeted catastrophes, such as in Egypt and Israel, they have demanded information, they have found vigilante justice on the internet.

We have built social networks that literally connect the world, we believe in starting something from nothing, and we know that with the right idea, anything is possible. Our generation created Google and eBay, we have Facebook and Twitter to unite people globally at the touch of a button, we made the Hubble telescope, and the biggest strides in space exploration.

Our generation are the ones who are fighting for LGBT rights, for equal constitutional rights of them to be married. We follow in the footsteps of every Civil Rights movement in our history, which proves over and over again that we the people know what we want, and what is right, and are willing to yell and fight and work for it.

Jeff Gordinier, author of X Saves the World: How Generation X Got the Shaft But Can Still Keep Everything From Sucking, has a pretty awesome quote from when he was featured in Time magazine. Here is a short excerpt that includes it:

‘Shirking the media myth that Xers are slackers, Gordinier argues that Generation X has — to borrow a '60s term — changed the world. Citing Gen-X icons like Quentin Tarantino and Jon Stewart, along with Gen-X triumphs like Google, YouTube, and Amazon, among others, Gordinier argues that not only are Xers far from over, they might be the most unsung and influential generation of all time. "Gen-X stomping grounds of the past — the espresso bar, the record shop, the thrift store — have been resurrected in digital form. The new bohemia is less a place than it is a headspace. It's flexible enough to bypass all the old binaries. It encompasses mass and class, mainstream and marginal, yuppie and refusenik, gearhead and Luddite. It's everywhere and nowhere in particular," he writes.
In short, "GenXers are doing the quiet work of keeping America from sucking."’
(read the rest of the article here)
So, rejoice, young people. We are changing the world, we are the future, blahblahblah.
Seriously, we have the interconnectedness, the tolerance, and the ability to learn, grow, and change the entire world and how it works. We are not in the Hunger Games, we are not in The Giver or Divergent. We are not yet dystopian, but we are the future.

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

The Path to Halloween Greatness.

I feel like this should go without saying, but I love Halloween. Not just a little, I’m not mildly amused by it. I don’t feel like I could take it or leave it. Nope, I adore Halloween. I love the candy, the costumes, the parades, the parties, and the candy.
I have long held this theory about fireworks and Halloween. My theory is these are two of the only times that you’ll see adults, no matter their ages, get lost in something. Next time you’re at a fireworks show, take a moment and look around you. Everyone, from the smallest of 3 year olds to the oldest dude  in his 90s, are all looking up, usually in wonder, and taking it all in. People get lost in the beauty and noise of fireworks, especially if they are lighting the fireworks themselves. Then it’s even more fun! My family loves fireworks. We light them for hours on the 4th of July.

And then there’s Halloween. What other day of the year can an adult dress up as anything they want -- scary, creepy, funny, as an old person -- and it be not only ok, but encouraged? It’s the one day people don’t worry about being judged or criticized, because hey, it’s all part of the costume.

In any case, I love Halloween. I had my requisite slutty costumes in college, and that was ok. But the funny ones are so much better!

One year I was a whoopie cushion. The costume itself wasn’t that impressive, but then I bought a real self-reinflating whoopie cushion and used a belt to secure it to my stomach. Every time someone walked near me at work, I pressed it. Trust me, it was hilarious.
Told ya so.
Two years in a row, I went as a sumo wrestler. This one will always be a personal favorite. First of all, sumo wrestlers are awesome, and mine wore a red diaper. Secondly, it was a battery-pack-powered, self-inflating costume. It was humongous and amazing. Boyfriend once took a video of me wearing the sumo costume skipping down the street and trying to dance. Sumo wrestlers are excellent dancers, you know.
This one might never be topped. Could be a personal best.

This year, as every other, I started to contemplate my costume early, around August-ish. I like to be prepared, and sometimes I have to gather pieces to make the costume.

I’ve been a bit obssessed with penguins lately, so that is where I ended up, after dismissing several other costume ideas, including James Bond/Penguin (Wear a penguin suit, but carry a water gun and have spy gadgets), the Joker, the sumo wrestler, a girl Superman (not to be confused with the more lame Supergirl, or the amazing Wonder Woman. now THAT WOMAN CAN LASSO SOME TRUTH.), a ninja cat, and a transformer (too difficult to make).

I guess I can be a cat-ninja next year. Or maybe a ninja dog. Or a ninja dragon. Or a stealthy ninja penguin!

Anyway, I really frickin’ love penguins, so I went with that.

First order of business, I ordered my penguin costume online. Now, I thoroughly enjoy making a costume out of different pieces of clothing and such. Last year, I was Quailman, and it was not a store bought costume. But a penguin is different. By doing it on my own, I risk ending up looking like a girl in a tuxedo. Which is cool, but not really what I was going for.
If I'm lyin', I'm dyin'. I had the full Doug-hair, a belt, and white tightey-whiteys on the outside of my khakis. Suck it, Silver Surfer. Boyfriend was a mad scientist. For the 3rd year. No one was surprised.
Step 2: Clearly mark the shipping address as “commercial.”

Step 3: Mailman tries to deliver my package on a Saturday, and sends me a strongly worded email about how they attempted to do their job, but my silly little business wasn't open for them to deliver it.

Step 4: Try to call the mail people on Tuesday morning (because Monday was Columbus Day. There was even a parade.) and be on hold for 20 minutes, never once talking to a person or accomplishing anything other than wondering what was taking so long for USPS to die a slow, sad death.

Step 5: Be pleasantly surprised when, after no additional action was taken, package was safely and triumphantly delivered on Tuesday afternoon.

Step 6: Get very excited and rip open the package near the reception desk, and happy show off your awesome penguin costume, which includes orange penguin-foot shoe covers.

Step 7: Try on penguin-foot shoe covers at your desk. Covertly glance around to make sure no one else is watching you weirdly reenact Happy Feet at your desk.

Step 8: Almost fall over and break your face when you come to understand that penguin-foot shoe covers are not that easy to walk in. They should have some kind of warning label!
WARNING: Not for dancing, skipping, or clumsy people.

Step 9: Tell everyone that your penguin suit arrives. Strangely, none of them are surprised that you ordered a penguin suit online.

Step 10: Sadly and pout-ily realize that you can’t take your penguin suit home that day because you have a networking event after work, and you can’t be that weirdo who brought a penguin suit along to a work event. People may or may not want to do business with you after that. And it really isn't fair to judge someone’s business acumen and professionalism by a penguin suit. There should be some kind of rule about that.

Step 11: At work the next day, excitedly remember about the penguin suit and prepare to take it home with you.

Step 12: Send Boyfriend a text of a picture of your feet with the penguin-foot shoe covers on with the caption “Just a taste of the sexiness that will be waiting for you at home.” [Boyfriend later responds that he is laughing so hard that his actual butt is falling off of his body. Mentally brace yourself for attempting to not be weirded out by his butt-less form.]
Penguin suits are the new sexy lingerie.
Step 13: PARTY LIKE IT’S 1999!

Heck yes. Halloween is almost here again! Can’t wait. Party time! Excellent!