Cocktober Road

It has been one of the most bountiful Cocktobers in recent memory. A very special thanks to Mark Foley, without whom none of this would've been possible.


After the jump, a look back. Cocktober seems so long ago, but it was only yesterday. Join us, won't you?

We learned a lot about ourselves this Cocktober -- for example, until we were caught showing up at the Page dorms drunk, we never realized that a convenient Maltese Priest had violated us years earlier. Thankfully, we're receiving counseling to help us through from our new best friend, Tartuffe.

Though religion did play an important role in our Cocktober antics, alcohol was the real star. Without its healing breath, we might never have been able to properly assist that drunk cocktail waitress to her waiting car, in a dark parking alley with special Congressman-proof magic surveillance cameras.

Nothing goes with alcohol better than a little Man-boy love -- as long as you keep it in the family. Because round these parts, folks don't take kindly to fooling around outside your kind.

In the end, while past Cocktobers may have burned longer, ours, we like to think, burned brightest. It was one hell of a flamer.

Cocktober Surprise

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