Remembering a few weeks ago it was a Saturday night, and we were out drinking. It was one day off from Halloween, but for us, the festivities had already ended after a terrific and disastrous party at my place on Friday night. Halloween had not yet come, but in out minds it was over, and we were ok with that as we waded through the streets amidst all the people dressed up. The interesting thing about a Sunday Halloween is that it lasts 3 days. By day 2 we were we had it out of our systems, and closure was achieved. And so not wanting to miss the remainder of the festivities, we went for a drink on Crescent Street, dressed up as ourselves for a change. We ended up, I believe, in Brutopia accompanied by some music which couldn’t have been exceptional seeing as I don’t remember it. When I say exceptional I mean it both ways, as in exceptionally good or exceptionally bad. I must also say that in Bru’s defense, the music is almost always excellent, and so exceptional music over there means not only good but really good. I digress. The evening’s conversation is irrelevant seeing, as I do not remember it well, but I do recall thinking to myself that it was a shame seeing everyone all dressed up whilst we had kinda lost the groove and reverted to the usual. Upon exiting the bar we began our trek towards Number 65’s place seeing as he and his companions live within walking distance. I followed along anticipating a cab ride home, the public transportation having stopped long ago. Just a few short steps out of the bar, the following conversation took place between myself, Number 65, and some aged blond chick dressed in a Superwoman outfit.

Superwoman: “Hey you guys seem like a decent bunch; lemme ask you something.”
She proceeds to bend over, lift up her cape and display the contours of her ass held together by her skin-tight Superwoman outfit.

Superwoman: “Do these earrings make my ass look fat?”

Me: “Ummm well, uhhh.”

Number 65: “Yeah a little bit.”

Superwoman’s face assumes a look of disbelief and anger. She recovers swiftly and stomps off angrily muttering obscenities under her breath.

Me: “Number 65 dude, you are my hero.”

This all goes to show that there are some things in this world money can buy, for everything else there is schadenfreude.