My raven's name is That's So...

It's decorative goth season, motherfuckers. 

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Ah, Halloween.  That magical time of year where I trade in Charlemagne for a raven and my black wardrobe for an even blacker wardrobe with ruffles.  

I finally have an excuse to wear my long leather gloves, too, other than pumping gas touching the shopping cart at Costco.  

And I can bring my friends.

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I'm in a super witchy mood this year, not to be confused with being bitchy of which I have been lately but they are completed unrelated.  I blame the things mentioned in this rant.  But maybe I should look into a spell to help me acquire a new mattress.

At the very least I could dress really cool while shopping.

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Please enjoy this special holiday dump of hippie witches and some skullz and shit.  I have to get this raven's harness on him before we start mattress shopping.

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Y'all.  I cancelled my cable so I haven't seen any of the new American Horror Story and it's KILLING me.  Maybe I'll bewitch one of my neighbors into letting me watch at their house.

Or I'll send my raven to peck out their eyes.

Just kidding.  He'll just steal some candy or something.  I've trained him for the truly important work.