Tag Archives: halloween


30 Oct

I think that instead of participating in Halloween this year, I’ll donate my time to community service and hand out cardigans on busy street corners.

I’ll focus strongly on college campuses and high traffic party areas.

Now, I’m wary to write a post dedicated to Hallowhores because it really is a very popular rant topic as of late.  Apparently this year’s cold front (the east coast has pumpkins on their front steps covered with snow) has highlighted the tenacity of the Hallowhores. I always thought folks were just turning a blind eye to the fact that Halloween is now an excuse for girls to dress up like the slutty sluts they always wished they could be.  But I guess now they’re concerned they may get the flu.

Or steal their boyfriends and husbands.

Dave came in the door from his show last night and had a look of slight terror on his face. He had just gotten off the bus, where a girl in a Sailor Moon costume boarded. (*cue music* Fighting evil by moonlight/Winning love by daylight…)

In her infinite wisdom, she had decided to go commando in her tiny little Sailor skirt.

For those of you unfamiliar with exactly how dangerous that can be, here is a picture of the offenders costume of choice.

I've decided to use an art doll image because all over examples were borderline pornographic. Yes, even the actual cartoon. It is, after all, anime.

Not much room for a breeze there.

Dave said every guy on the bus didn’t take their eyes off her. And when she tripped on the way out, the women joined.

I asked Dave if he got a shot of the front or the back.  Luckily (relatively speaking) it was the back. 

There is an obvious Sailor Moon joke here.  Just know that and be grateful that I spared you.

Now, call me a grumpy old conservative coot, but I find sporting an outfit with such a short skirt to a party at which she was almost indubitably going to get wasted a poor, poor choice.  And since she can’t even walk well in all that beautiful sluttery, I would argue against the choice all the more.  But alas, it’s a free country and we must let women wear very little and flash entire buses full of people every year on Halloween.  After all, it’s a holiday.

You know, on second thought perhaps I should revise my community service calling.

Cardigans and underwear. Yes.  It’s obvious now that only one will not do.

I’ll go get boxes and labels right now.


Wrestling with a Poltergeist

21 Oct

Disclaimer: I am not this tall.

Dave has cursed our apartment with a poltergeist.

“Honey”, he says to me in the car yesterday, “this is the first time in my life that I feel I’m not really celebrating October.”

“What do you mean?  I bought pumpkin candles, we decorated the house for fall, and we have a Halloween party to go to at the end of the month.  What else do you need?”

He thought for a moment and said “more horror flicks, I guess”.

I don’t do scary movies. It isn’t so much a problem in the moment that I watch them – it’s the moments after.   I can’t even watch stupid ones.  I mean, I can.  And I’ll even laugh and not jump in my seat and talk about how it’s no big deal.  But truth be told, when the lights are all out and I hear things going bump in the night, I forget about the poor makeup and special effects and I completely let fall from my head the terrible storyline and the stupid acting.  All I can think about is “Oh my bajeezus.  Freddy is coming for me.”

C’mon, I have cats.  They make terrible security guards.

I’ve started a deal with Dave where I’ll watch the occasional horror flick so long as he checks every nook and cranny in the house before bedtime and promises to escort me anywhere in the dark I very well please.  He must tell me that I’m being silly and that my mind is playing tricks on me.  He must do this infinitely until I stop voicing my concerns because I warned him what would happen if I had to watch a movie.

It appears that by Dave voicing his concern for an underwhelming amount of freakiness, we have been since blessed with our fair share.  Last night as he was leaving for a show, I noticed our kitchen light flickering.  Dave said it was no problem – we have plenty of light bulbs stowed away from that research bus we got on a few weeks ago.  But this was no light-dying flicker.  We left our apartment to an eerie, low hum accompanied by zaps and sparks;  there was an electrical fire sprouting from the tentacles of cords on the pole outside.

Someone called it in and I went to the store to get ingredients to bake.  It seemed like a good time for a cake.

But – rather predictably I suppose – when I came home the electricity was out on my street.  With Dave at the show and me home alone, I got to walk through the creepy corridors of my apartment building in the pitch black.  Pretty amusing given that I left a lamp on so I didn’t have to come home to a dark house.

After I lit every tea light we had and cracked an Emergency glow stick (my favorite part of power outages), I sat in my lemongrass/mulberry/cinnamon bun/pumpkin spice scented dining room and thanked God that my laptop was charged so I could at least write something as I waited.

I looked to the living room, where I threw the glow stick for good measure.  It cast a creepy green glow throughout that made me think of Dave’s wish for October horror.   As I tried to shake off the crazies, I noticed that my window was ever so slightly ajar and a high pitched whistle was whirring through the apartment.

I stayed calm.  I thought I’d make a cake by candlelight and embrace the ways of the Amish, so I called my mom for a bit of direction.  She promptly reminded me that I couldn’t use the mixer or the oven.

I told her my oven is gas but she totally won with the mixer.

So I sat.  And stared.  And breathed in the grassy/berry/pumpkiny/cinnamony air.

That’s when my window fell down.

Like, fell down.  The entire bottom half of my two-part window completely came off its tracking and dove onto the dining room table, where I had a variety of candles lit for my comfort.  I rushed to put it back in place, trying to ignore what this would could mean in the context of Dave’s eerie wish, the power outage, the green glow in my apartment, and the super creepy whistle that wouldn’t go away even once the window was yoinked.

What if I wasn’t there to fix it? What if I weren’t sitting right beside where it happened?  It’d be like a creepy poltergeist flick where something inexplicably falls onto a bunch of lit candles and everything starts to slowly catch fire.

What it if I were pooping? I could have burned to death on the toilet.

The power returned to us precisely 2 minutes before Dave reentered the house – an odd timing indeed.  This was just day one of his curse upon our apartment.    

I still have 11 more days to try to survive. 

Halloween at the Gynecologist’s

10 Oct

I have my annual gyno appointment this year on October 31st: Halloween.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  It was supposed to be sometime in November but the chick doc is on vacation basically every day during the month of the Turkey.  I was left with two options in October and only one of them were doable for me.  Unfortunately, it’s smack dab in the middle of the day on the ghouliest day of the year.

I feel strange about this.  It’s difficult enough to have someone poke and prod their way into my ever-so-delicate lady parts, but on Halloween?  

Something about the idea makes me feel as if bats will fly out of my vagina as soon as she peeks inside.

It’s only appropriate that I take advantage of such an awkward scenario.  I’m sure that when I look across the room

as I’m strapped in and spread eagle, I’ll see little doctor’s office decorations on the countertops.  Nothing says Happy Halloween like a cute fuzzy spider next to a bin of pap smear swabs.

I could also firmly position a fun house mirror in there. What a nice surprise!

I should probably embrace the celebration by trapping my vagina with Halloween specialties.  Perhaps she could be welcomed to the cave by a small bowl of candy.  Or I could set up a light-activated hand that shoots out when she shines her little flashlight inside.  Maybe I should just keep it simple and get a horror sound effect recording so that when she tells me to scoot up and spread, she’s greeted by Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” and a black light from within.   The possibilities are endless!

I could forgo the vagina contraptions altogether and just concoct a fun costume for the event.  I could dress my bottom up in brilliant colors and, like a pop-up book, have a bright banner that goes from knee to knee when pulled apart reading “Enter at Your Own Risk”.

Actually, that’s probably a good sign to have mounted for all occasions.

This fun doesn’t have to be reserved for Halloween; we could just go ahead and make it standard.  There’s really no other way to make someone poking around your insides any more awkward and uncomfortable, so let’s embrace the nature of the act and take it all the way.  It will be a great way to brighten your gyno’s day.  Of course we should be inclusive.  Men have similarly uncomfortable moments dealing with their lower halves and they should feel free to indulge as well. 

After all, everyone loves an excuse to dress up. 

Jackie and the Giant Pumpkin

27 Sep

Hey.  Happy Lollipop Tuesday, folks.

You know, I don’t have a whole heck of a lot to say this week.  Mostly because my hands are sad, cramped little things that are wondering why I submitted them to this torture.  And also because I’m kind of in shock that after years and years of wanting to do this, I finally sat down and had the patience to properly carve a pumpkin without hacking it to little bits.

Because up until this year, that’s really all that happened.

But alas, I have a blog now.  And I’m slowly acquiring patience like a disease.  Lest we forget, last week I did a Rubik’s Cube.  A Rubik’s Cube! And so this week I wanted to see if I could hang in there for 4 hours and celebrate fall with a big rearended pumpkin with holes cut in it in celebration of falling leaves.  I even carved little teeth.  TEETH! I carved them and skinned them  and shouted with glee.

But before I celebrate fully, allow me to mock the stupid instruction manual that came with my “carving kit”.  Which, by the way, I got at the grocery store.  Not the best bet for quality squash mutilation.  Indulge me so much as to allow a direct quotation:

Step #1: Choose a favorite Stencil & detach the black perforated areas.
Step #2: Attach Stencil with tape.
Step#3: Outline the Stencil with a black marker, Poker, or Tracer.
Step#4: Carve your pumpkin with the Carving Tools.
Step #5: It was so easy with this Stencil Kit.

I’m sorry, what?!  I’ll go ahead and ignore the fact that I paid $5.99 for a bunch of crappy plastic “tools” that couldn’t be bothered to label what each is and what it’s best used for.  And hey, I’ll even completely overlook the fact that a truly helpful kit (with book attached) might take a little more time spreading out the action in Step #4 with a few tips or tricks for the beginner.  

But what on God’s green and wonderful earth is Step #5?  Not a step.  The answer is that it’s not a step.


That’s a reflection.  That’s an opinion.  That’s a narrative for a little cartoon of a child carving a pumpkin.  It might be a nice final frame without the term Step#5 attached to it.  

I shouldn’t have even bought the kit out of principle.  

Anyway, after I came down off my angry box and got out my tools, I took lots of deep breaths and continued to do so for about 4 hours until I produced this:


Which, I have to tell ya, is better than any darn pumpkin I’ve ever attempted in the past.  I’ve always wanted to sit down and take the time to make a cool pumpkin that I see on the Interwebz but I give up after cutting the top off and throw it far away from me so I don’t have to look at its enraging orange skin anymore.    But this year is the year that changed it all and I can finally die knowing that I’ve given a pumpkin a fair chance at being super cool.

As many of you know, Dave shares in my Lollipop Tuesday adventures, and I’d just like to take a moment to give you a juxtaposition of our two artworks:

He’s so much more laid back than me.  Look: his even has a tongue.  It’s adorably happy.  

Any by the way, I know I’m jumping the gun a bit on the Halloween fun, but we’re really given such a short amount of time to embrace such a fantastic holiday that I don’t feel even a tinge of remorse.  In fact, you should carve a pumpkin too.

Happy Fall ya’ll.  

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