Until this Halloween, I hadn’t quite appreciated the vast difference between a good costume and a great one. Tiny Tennis Player, clearly, is the latter. This is my roommate and his friend approximately 10 seconds after leaving our apartment — they literally didn’t get five feet before a stranger asked for a photo. I got to use one of the giant racquets all Friday night and was probably stopped/yelled at … 30 times? Forty? It helps if you really go for broke and wear a tight white polo tucked into some booty-ass white shorts.
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