For Halloween, my friend and I decided to go to a pub crawl. For my costume, I wrapped a red ribbon around my torso, topped it off with a red bow, and put a card on the ribbon that said, "From: God, To: Women"...Get it? God's gift to women.

My roommate wouldn't tell me what his costume was going to be, until about an hour before we left, when he walked out of his room and, in a pathetic Hispanic accent, said "Do you want a banana," sporting a Chiquita Banana Lady costume (aka Carmen Miranda). I almost had a seizure I was laughing so hard. The only bad part of his costume was that I had to zip up the back of the bra section. I found it to be very disturbing.

Halloween might be the best holiday in existence. Hot girls, everyone drunk, automatic legitimacy--it was awesome. Every girl that I thought was cute, I would go up and ask her what her costume was, even if it was obvious. Then, no matter what she was wearing, I gave my interpretation:

Girl "I'm a nurse."
Tucker "You're a naughty nurse."

Girl "I'm Marcia Brady."
Tucker "You're a naughty Marcia Brady."

Girl "I'm a tree."
Tucker "You're a naughty tree."

It worked better than you might think.

Of course, my outfit was a hit, and gave me a great way to display my enormous wit. Every girl asked me, "What makes you god's gift to women?" Some answers:

"13 inches. Who ever thought it could be too big?"
"I have 20 million dollars and terminal cancer."
"I like to listen."
"I'm a convicted sex offender."
"Have you this face? Look at how hot I am!"
"I like to cut up hookers."
"Bend over and I'll show you."

Then, of course, there was endless humor to be had in mocking the costumes of others. One girl came as Punky Brewster.

Tucker "How good is your costume? Have you had breast reduction surgery?"
Girl [She had very small breasts] "Can't you tell? Look at them."
Tucker "I said 'breast reduction,' not 'breast elimination.'"

One girl had a big afro wig, so I asked her if she was Angela Davis. She didn't get the joke. Then someone kept asking her what her real hair looked like, and she refused to answer, so I offered my explanation, "She didn't come as Angela Davis. She doesn't have any hair. She's got leukemia." No one thought that was funny but me.

I ended up going home with one of Punky's friends, who went as a Fame dancer. We went back to my place, hooked up, blah, blah, blah. I woke up in the morning, drunk and groggy, and thought I saw her running out of my apartment, but I just assumed she was going to the bathroom. I went back to sleep, and when I woke up, I found about $40 missing.

I'm not sure what happened. Maybe she thought I underperformed, and this was her way of paying me back. Maybe she was an actual hooker, and she thought it was payment. Who knows.

Posted by at 11:54 PM

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