Everybody remembers “that one Halloween.” You know the one I’m talking about. Everyone has one. That year when you had the single greatest costume ever and you rocked the balls off of it.
Maybe it was the year you were a Croatian gymnast with body hair spreading like wildfire, or when you were a male stripper with breakaway pants and an awkwardly aggressive lap dance. Whatever night it was, if you’re like me, it probably ruined your kids’ chances of ever becoming President. Continue reading