Happy Halloween everyone!
This is my favorite holiday of the year–hands down–capping off my favorite month of the year, in which I’ve probably watched the entire repertoire of can’t-miss-but-wish-you-could awful horror movies. Oh, and Tremors. What can I say, old habits die hard, and so does my crush on Kevin Bacon.
Every Halloween I have huge plans for elaborate costumes, an obscenely carved pumpkin, and a barely legal degree of legal fun. Actually, that is revisionist history if I’ve ever imagined it, because it seems that last year I spent crying into a candy cuddle puddle. That won’t happen this year because I’m on enough coffee and Adderall to jump start a dead horse. But you also won’t find me crawling around dive bars because I’m stuck working, which–I suppose–is an appropriately horrifying activity for All Hallows’ Eve.
Having two jobs is a real drag, because having one job is a real drag. But I just can’t seem to tear myself away from the money, and I also can’t seem to tear myself away from work to go spend that money. It’s a harsh and reinforcing cycle, just like the Chicken or Egg question I struggle with every Halloween: Can I never dress up as the Human Centipede because I have no friends, or do I have no friends because I keep asking them to dress up as the Human Centipede? If you have a decent answer for that, contact me — I’ll let you be the front and you can borrow my knee pads.
Anyway, while I’m working this evening and feeling sorry for myself, I hope you all are out and about, and feeling sorry for me too. Just because I can’t generate an appetite doesn’t mean I can’t and won’t generate tears and a salty puddle to lay in. But not as salty as this work of edible art that I carved last year and posted in the middle of a highly residential and family neighborhood that was nowhere near my own.
Ball out my friends!