The pie-eating contests were what I loved the best about the Worcester Patsy Parties.
Maybe it was the Purple People Eater moniker, the fact that they coincided with a particularly busy party weekend, it wasn’t abundantly clear, but they always made for a great shindig.
I remembered the undergrads, lined up, eating the blueberry pies one after another. It never ended well, but for some reason all the unsuspecting young people, waiting for the starting gun to go off, made me smile, as if they didn’t know what they were really getting into.
It wasn’t just about the pies: there was all sorts of great food and drink there: the blueberry crush cocktails, of which I had too many on multiple occasions, stood out.
Today, however, the only crush experienced in the offices were the ones of Holy Cross’ Patsy Rating spreadsheets hitting me in the head.
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