I need the male version of this. Bacon toga?

Halloween is possibly the best holiday ever: when you’re a kid it’s an excuse to eat as much candy as you can — in fact, you’re often encouraged to eat candy; when you’re an adult it’s an excuse to drink as much as you can; when you’re a kid you get to dress up like the most awesome people you know; when you’re an adult you are encouraged to dress as something sexy, the stranger the better (next year I think I’ll go as sexy bacon); and regardless of age, you don’t have to spend the evening with those awkward relatives who linger too long when they hug you.

But this year, Sandy came to town, dressed as Frankenstorm. Hurricane Sandy is like that party girl you avoid inviting to parties but, somehow, that wench always finds out, and she always has so much fun that she wrecks everyone’s time. As much as you follow her around your apartment/house trying to minimize the damage she does, she still manages to fall on your table, puke in your sink, and pass out on your couch.

Why Frankenstorm? Because of that crazy path, yo! Clearly Sandy’s been having a bit too much of the wine while strolling through the Atlantic.

Now, I don’t have much reason to complain about Sandy; all she did was trap me in my home for an evening, but for some people she obviously caused a lot of harm.

My friend rival Maryann and I surveyed the damage at the Astoria Park about five blocks from here and found some very visible signs of Sandy getting a bit too raucous.

Maryann is ready for everything, now.

Maryann gingerly trots to the wreckage, like a well trained stallion.

Big tree, big fall.

Nothing says sadness like a deserted, dirty playground. Apocalypse time!

I think the consensus for myself and all of the east coast is Sandy, next year you can go to someone else’s house.

P.S. on a more serious note, I hope everyone is alright! We had it easy in Astoria. Sandy only passed through our neighborhood quickly.

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