A “Jack” of all….Pumpkinheads? If you mean the ale, yes sir.

Normally one feels like this the day after Halloween, not er, say, the week before, which is exactly what happened to a whole field’s full of pumpkins at Connors Farm in Danvers, which my friend Mackenzie and I traveled to (and managed to find after a loss of our directions) on Sunday for our great pumpkin hunt. The plan was to “pick our own” pumpkins, but that failed miserably when, probably on account of the lateness in the season plus the odd hybrid of one hot day and one day of frost through the last week, we ended up standing in a field of diabolically rotten and spewing forth their guts goardish-former things. Instead of weeping or vomiting ourselves, we ended up snapping photos of what Mackenzie described as our “What the F**k face?” before we trudged back to the farmstand to pick some off the…….shelves.

We eventually resigned ourselves to this endeavor because we stumbled upon “The Great Apple Rap”, which I have to say, was pretty brilliant. Some of the Connors Farm bigwigs decided to record up their own “Mackin’ the Tosh”, if you will, and of course, Mackenzie and I stopped to take a listen, naturally.

The beat was chompin’, certainly, but we decided to head to the corn maze, since welp, we went all the way there and the day was gorgeous. However, halfway toward the veggie trap, Mackenzie turned to me and said “Um, should we just head to a package store and get our pumpkin beer and just hit the drink and carving?” to which I said, “You read my mind…” and off we were for Shipyard’s Pumpkinhead–the greatest pumpkin beer on the planet–and our attempts at mastery with knives (and a reinactment of “Lindsey Lohan Loves Knives”).

Lauren joined us for the wilding and charmed us with her “drunken hobo jack o’ lantern” creation.

I carved up a ghostie and a piggie, which have both been set aglow today.

File Under: I may enjoy drinking “Pumpkinheads” than making “Pumpkinheads”. Call me a non-Jack-of-all…lanterns?

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