The problem with Halloween costumes, for me at least, is I always seem to think of a way better costume idea a few days after Halloween and manage to find a way to forget that idea between then and the next Halloween.

One year, I dressed up as Gordon Gecko, only to think of Clint Eastwood the next week.

My sophomore year of high school, I went as an emo kid and thought of Andy Samberg literally the next day.

In elementary school, I was a carton of milk, only to be one-upped by the kid who was a hobo in a box being carried by Scream.

I could never win.

For the first twenty-one years of my life, each Halloween would bring regret and disappointment as I constantly second-guessed my costume choices.

But this past Halloween was different. It was perfect. I thought-up the greatest costume ever: Keith Stone.

Now, in case you didn’t already know, Keith Stone is the “always smooth” spokesman for the popular low-rung beer brand Keystone Light. Like the beer he represents, he’s a little unrefined — the man rocks a mullet, trucker hat and some questionable facial hair — but, ultimately, his smooth charm wins everyone over (especially the ladies).

So once I decided that Keith Stone was my costume choice, I immediately hopped onto the computer, went to Amazon.com and purchased a plain black trucker hat and a mullet wig.

It was perfect. I already had a killer Wal-Mart tiger shirt I was going to wear, so the only thing left was the facial hair.

But, this posed a bit of a problem: As far as facial hair goes, I can’t grow much more than a five-o’clock shadow. I tried to grow out the mustache-soul patch combo on my own, but it was too thin. I just looked really creepy.

I realized I needed help, but I didn’t know what to do. And then, it hit me. The answer to all my troubles: Just For Men gel. It was a godsend.

I went to Wal-Mart and picked up a box of Just For Men gel, but before I continue with the story, I’d first like to explain how Just For Men gel works.

Basically, Just For Men gel is sold in a box that contains hair dye, a thin cheap plastic glove and a toothbrush-like applicator. You mix the dye — which comes in two separate tubes — cover the brush with it, brush it into your facial hair and let it set on your face for ten minutes so it can soak in.

Now, that’s all fine-and-good. But what they don’t tell you is that shit will stain your skin like a mug. So if you’re like me, and you want to get your money’s worth, you coat your face with it to ensure that no hair is uncovered.

Problem is, when you try to wash it off, you scrub your skin raw trying to avoid looking like a chimney sweep or one of the kids from Oliver Twist. It’s miserable.

So anyway, once my face recovered from the Just For Men travesty, things were looking pretty good. My mullet wig and trucker hat fit perfectly, my t-shirt was powerfully tacky and my facial hair looked legit. I had only one thing left to do to complete the costume: purchase a 30-pack of Keystone Light, or ‘Stones as ol’ Keith calls ‘em.

Now, most people will tell you that 30 beers are way too many for one person. In fact, they’ll probably tell you that it’s impossible for a person to drink an entire 30-pack in one sitting. And you know what? They’re absolutely right.

But I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge, and the task of drinking an entire 30-pack of low-quality beer on Halloween seemed too noble of an endeavor for me to turn down. And this, my friends, is where I made a terrible, terrible mistake — or an awesome one, depending on how you look at things.

For about the first half hour of the party, I made a point to walk around while shouldering my ‘Stones, showing off my killer costume for all to see.

The costume went over great: Everyone immediately recognized who I was, and most everyone found it hilarious. But once that first half hour ran out, things got a little sloppy.

I was about ten ‘Stones deep and feelin’ pretty buzzed. At some point, I’d sat my 30-pack in some liquid and the cardboard ended up getting soaked and tearing. Once this happened, ‘Stones began to fall from the case and scatter across the floor. This forced me to change my strategy of carrying them: Instead of shouldering the case, I’d have to create a pouch for the beers by holding onto the bottom of my shirt and pulling it away from my body.

Success — my new method of carrying the remaining beers was working like a charm. At this point, I’d lost count of how many ‘Stones I’d consumed, but I was convinced it was between 15-20, depending on how many I gave to my few friends.

I was dead-set on polishing off the collection I had in my shirt, but, unfortunately, it just wasn’t in the cards.

From there, my memory is kind of hazy. I remember waking up in a sweaty mess with my wig and hat caddywhompus on my head and my shirt soaked in a mysterious liquid — either vomit or stale beer. But from what I heard, I — and everyone else I was with — had a great time.

Honestly, though, I’m pretty sure you can’t not have fun when you’re dressed up as Keith Stone. It’s like not dancing when “You Make My Dreams Come True” by Hall & Oates comes on: You just can’t do it.

I never got a final tally for how many beers I consumed, but I think it was about 22, which — in my mind, at least — is pretty respectable for a person of my build. Even though I didn’t cash the case, I still had a pretty wicked costume and a great time.

So the moral of the story, kids, is that if you dress up like a beer mascot on Halloween, you’re going to have the most fun ever.

And that’s just science fact.