Five years. Zero lessons learned. Enter if you dare.
This is not a suggestion. This is not a vibe. This is the law of the house.
Show up in street clothes and you will be turned away at the door,
publicly shamed, and talked about for the rest of the year.
"I came straight from work" is not a costume. "I'm dressed as myself" is not a costume. A single witch hat over a hoodie will be reviewed by the committee (the committee is Munch the dog, and she is strict).
The bar is high. Past legends include an axe-wielding corporate psycho and a bearded man in a nightgown. This year's committee-endorsed suggestions:
"We wants it. We needs it. Must have the precious (the aux cord)."
Cheap, disturbing, and you get to crouch by the keg hissing at people all night. Committee-approved.
"The keg you want is already in the backyard. Receive it."
One thrifted suit + industrial quantities of teeth whitener. Spend the night blessing strangers and passing a collection plate for pizza money.
"God loves you, and so does this DJ."
The bigger the hair, the closer to heaven. Waterproof mascara is banned โ those tears need to RUN by midnight.
"We are never ever ever gettin' the deposit back."
Blonde bangs, red lips, leopard everything, and a tallboy that never leaves your hand. Cheaper than the Eras Tour and you can do the whole discography from a lawn chair.
All killer, no filler. The essentials are covered โ you just bring the costume and questionable decisions.
Not one keg. TWO kegs. Dual-wielded, tandem-keg-stand capable. Bring your quads warmed up.
Live sets all night on real hardware. Last year the DJ wore a blood-soaked nightgown and never missed a transition. Expectations are set.
Hot pies materialize when the night needs them most. Scientifically timed to the exact moment the second keg starts floating.
Four years of evidence. This is the energy you are signing up for โ study the tape, then top it.