I know I’m a few weeks late to be commenting on anything involving orange pumpkins, but better late than never, right?
Halloween, once a joyous time in my life surrounded by manipulated mounds of candy that I could ‘fairly’ trade with my brothers, is now a relative thing of my past. Since I was a wee one, I would run out of the room yelling and complaining about the stench of pumpkins. Dying eggs for Easter? Check. Making Christmas cookies? Check. Carving Pumpkins? Get out of here. But I subjected myself and my sweet bird to this nonsense as I crafted ‘Lola’ into life. Missy did not quite feel the same about the glowing orange thing that didn’t appear to be edible.
I boast a long line of creative costumes. The most daredevil of these being my roller-skate clad Sonic Drive-In attire–completely inspired by a big ‘whoopsie’ the year before resulting in fries and a drink all down the side of the family car…I think that was about the time they vetoed the ‘skating’ concept. College brought about (and fairly defecated) my idea of Halloween: after realizing my competition existed of women clad as Victoria’s Secret Angels–complete with wings and thongs, I ventured out my freshman year as a Christmas tree, sans the most modest trunk if you know what I’m saying. I got a lot of attention, particularly from certain ethnicities, which made me decide denim would have been a better choice. The next year I went out as ‘my dad’ –clad in flannel and moccasins–and made sure to send him this picture as I stood in front of a sea of fishnet and bunny ears at a rager. And my last Halloween in NY? I was warned against going to the parade alone, so I ate Chipotle and watched the alternative lifestyle madness from the comfort of my room.
This year I went out in public the night before Halloween, dressed as myself, when I ran into this guy. Lucky for him he was clad in his costume already…so he was ready for action at any time. Sir, I hope you made it to your event. Me? Call me crazy, but I’ll take a Heath bar over a vodka-tonic any day 🙂