Ah, Halloweekend, that magical time when you smear makeup with glee, get punny, and make out with a banana. It’s a memorable weekend for all, even more so when it morphs into “fall break” and everybody creeps away into their caves–whether staycationing or retreating back home. To commemorate Halloweekend 2013, we bring you field notes.
One for the ages
On actual Halloween, both EC elevators were out of order, forcing residents and partygoers to tramp up and down the 20 flights. Reports say:
- “Currently sitting on the 10th floor landing taking a breather. FUCK.THIS.SHIT”
- “…and now I begin my 14 flight trek.”
- “Hello from floor 10. Parties are emerging in the stairwells”
- “People gave me so much encouragement when I thought I was about to pass out and/or vomit around floor 9″
- “Ok there was something pretty fun about the community building on the stairs though”
Last Wednesday night, with seniors in full force at Havanaween, a Bwogger happened upon a guy at Mel’s with an ice cube tray taped to his stomach. When asked what he was, he replied “I’m Ice Cube’s mother.” The Bwogger was mildly amused.
Speaking of Mel’s, it appears as if upperclassmen are coming back around to this haven, having taken some time away in respect to the seriously, seriously missed Bigga. This weekend, Mel’s was fuller than usual with upperclassmen, apparently tired of always landing back at 1020.
Bwog’s editor and her cohorts got second place at 1020 trivia last night. Just saying.
In other bar news, The Abbey is temporarily shut down, for the 15 of you who this affects.
At a Wallach dance party (we’re skeptical too) one resident wore an actual pumpkin as a mask and tried to dance in a trench coat with the pumpkin on his head. (See picture, above)
At 3:30 on Saturday night, a tipster ventured into MoWi, where all employees were stocking shelves. He told one he was ready to check out, and the cashier apparently looked up in disbelief, said “well okay…,” and continued shelving.
Friday, 9:15 pm: “Ten guys in their underwear just crawled on their hands and knees through the reference room in Butler.”
On Friday night, a non-CU student went to an EC Halloween party, not in costume but wearing slacks and a button-up and carrying a bottle of vodka. The hosts asked what his costume is and as he gawked without an answer, his companions jumped in and pronounced “he’s a Princeton student!” The hosts and surrounding guests all squealed and applauded.
Joys of fall break
Sunday, 1:08 am: “This party in Bushwick is pretty rad. Drag horror show. $4 beer. Good times.” There were apparently Illuminati symbols everywhere.
Meanwhile, 3 minutes later from another tipster: “Just got back to CU to write some papers…. AAAAND… the building is literally vibrating with music. It’s past 1AM.” Bwog can’t help but wonder: 1. Why were you doing papers past 1 am? 2. Why were you doing papers over fall break?
Saturday night was a quiet one on campus with everyone gone. Tipster reports it was a “perfect night for getting back to your roots playing drinking games in your group’s suite without making any moves to parties/bars.”
Unless of course, you did as one tipster did and snuck into an unnamed academic building to watch Mulan while munching on popcorn and day-after-Halloween-sale candy.
Finally, your anonymous-tip-form story of the weekend:
Given that the housing gods blessed me with the world’s biggest Ruggles dingle, my mom decided to spend the week before fall break crashing with me. She got in Monday night, and I signed her in with not-the-usual security guard. Things were (surprisingly) really cool, and kind of fun.
Tuesday night, I signed her in again, with the regular guy there, one of the nicest guards I’ve ever had – he always makes small talk, and is really sweet. He did the whole ”oh is this your sister,” schtick, which was funny, and we laughed and went upstairs.
20 minutes later, I left for a meeting, and the security guard stopped me on the way out.
”So, is that your mom?”
”Yep, she’s staying with me for a while.”
”Oh nice, nice. She’s um.. very.. um…” at this point, I’m subjected to the security guard wiggling his eyebrows up and down suggestively. In reference to my MOTHER. ”You know? I can see where you got your looks.”
”Oh. Um. Thank you?”
I sprint out the door, horrified, and contemplate never returning again.