No Sir, this IS my costume

I should prequel this by saying I've been a sloth all day.  I've barely moved from the couch, working on my laptop and fighting extreme frustration with my subjectively-graded useless crap Memo 2 assignment, due next Sunday.  I haven't started the research, let alone the writing, and I fully expect to barely pass the class.  But I digress.

I finally decided to leave the couch and bake brownies for the Human Rights Law Society's bake sale next week (GW Law students: come buy something.  You're cold and heartless if you don't.) when a shrill ringing filled the air - yes, someone pulled my apartment's fire alarm, on Halloween night.  How original! How mature!

I sat there for about five minutes and contemplated the merits and drawbacks of ignoring the alarm until I realized my mother would KILL me if I died in a fire.  I headed outside - faced with imminent death and loss of all earthly possessions, what did I bring? Keys.  Phone.  Criminal law casebook.

At least I have my priorities straight.

In my sloth-ness, I haven't showered yet today, and I'm wearing yoga pants and a ratty t-shirt.  Greasiness and glasses abound.  May I remind you it's Halloween? and everyone who actually has a life is out tonight? Do you know how utterly awesome I felt, standing outside in the rain, surrounded by smartly-dressed college students, clutching my casebook for dear life and trying to blend in with the shrubbery?  GO ME!

Upside: Hot firefighters.
Upside #2: In full gear.
Upside #3: Seeing the 6'2" burly guy from downstairs dressed as a bar wench.

False alarm declared, excitement died down, now it's back to the absolute waste of time Memo.

The Illustrious Vee, signing off.