Guys, Cappy has declared it to be Halloweekend. This makes less than zero sense, given that Halloween is on a Thursday the week after, and I know for a fact that Cappy celebrates Thirsty Thursday because she always wears a scarf on Friday. We all know what a scarf means. Hickeys. Or that it’s a bit breezy outside. But mostly hickeys.
Anyways, despite the fact that Halloweekend is a week early, Vassar will obviously still be going hard in the metaphorical paint. In case you are looking for a reason to be offended, I am referring to the paint that small children use to decorate pumpkins sometimes. (Nothing else. Stop it. I’m not Waka Flocka Flame, don’t rub it in). For those of you that don’t know what happens during Halloweekend because you are 1) a freshman or 2) like everyone else and don’t read the pamphlet that the VSA sends out, I have highlighted within this article the most important points of how to succeed at Vassar Halloween.
The best part of Halloweekend, other than small children running around in adorable costumes, is the Villard Room party. No, don’t argue with me. I’m a little sister, so I’m always right. It’s the best. Everyone is there, even the seniors, because the college gives them alcohol. Those three drinks will be a delightful accompaniment to the whiskey that you smuggled in by dressing as a member of the mob and insisting that the flask is a necessary part of your costume.
Not only is the place packed, but everyone looks GREAT (read: super weird), and you will leave with stories that you couldn’t get from any other night. Some of my personal favorites include “Bane from Batman stepped on my toe and I wasn’t wearing shoes so I lost my toenail but he was really sweet about it”, or “I was dancing with Luigi but he was really freaking me out so I pretended I had to go to the bathroom, and I ran into a shark outside so we ended up leaving together; he just made me feel safe you know?”
Even better, if you are feeling really ambitious, or were raised in a competitive family like I was, you can take the Villard Room party as a school-sponsored competition to set some personal records. Everyone knows things aren’t fun unless you’re winning. Momma always said second place is first loser. She might have been joking but she also might not have been and I wasn’t going to risk my delicate child psyche on that thin line. Personal records I have set on Halloween include falling on the TH path twice (it had snowed all day, OK?), pinching the butt of someone I thought was my close friend but was really a guy on the lacrosse team, and eating four slices of Bacio’s in one night. Also every year I have managed to forget at least one crucial aspect of my costume, so that no one can really tell who I am, and I just look like a girl in a tight American Apparel dress, which is what I dress up as every other weekend night. It’s pretty clear that I’m a winner.
My goal for this year is to not dress up like myself, and to see how many glasses of mystery jungle juice I can drink and still run the 5k the next morning. I also wouldn’t mind things like getting a job offer based solely off of the creativity of my costume, or maybe carving a pumpkin so beautiful that it sells for millions to a person who doesn’t understand the concept of mold so that I never have to work again in my life. But I like to aim low (which, oddly enough, my professors don’t always react well to when I tell them that during office hours).
If you’re not the “goal setting” type of person, don’t worry. You can still win Halloweekend. You’ve got some pretty basic achievements to conquer.
Don’t get EMS-ed. That’s an automatic loss. You WERE a sexy pizza (real costume, look it up) but now you are a sad vomit-flavored pizza that no one wants a bite of. If that sentence right there doesn’t immediately give you a frowny-face reaction you are heartless and a possible sociopath and you don’t appreciate a good pun.
DO have a cool costume (see above, sans vomit) that both intrigues and repulses people at the same time. The more modern art you are, the better. I read that the other day in The New Yorker while sipping on some San Pellegrino and eating a fair trade scone. Yeah, those exist. It was only 27 dollars and came with free pretension. If you aren’t sure of a costume that qualifies, think “Taylor Swift mixed with Ludwig van Beethoven mixed with a literal beet”.
OK, Taylor van Beet was pretty much my best advice. You’re ready.