celery is gay, got it
Monday, November 1, 2004 at 11:29AM So, Halloween happened. The boys let us use their house to stage a massive blow-out provided that we decorate and cater, which we did and it was awesome. Under Allison’s brilliant direction, we decked the house out in the finest cheap plastic halloween spiders and neon green cobwebs the crappy Halloween “Superstore” on Pike had to offer. Kathy went all out with her witch finger cookies, radish eyeballs and spider cookies, far outstripping my brownie graveyard and halloween-shaped sandwiches. I think my friends and I might take this holiday a little too seriously.
Best costume: Beth, as the awesomest Rainbow Brite EVER. Trust me, this costume was one of the greatest I have seen in my lifetime—it actually looked professional. Fabulous. If I find anyone with digital photos of it, I will upload them for your ooh and aah-ing.
Most esoteric costume: a young man named RYAN CHAPMAN (and being stumbling drunk, I proceeded to slur his full name in a slightly exaggerated tone every time I addressed poor, young RYAN CHAPMAN) came dressed as the album cover for Good News For People Who Love Bad News with arrows sticking out of his chest and rivulets of blood running down his shirt. You have got to appreciate that level of good, old-fashioned nerdery. I, of course, thought he was St. Sebastian, not because I am particularly familiar with Catholic mythology, but because I saw Blown Away, starring Jeff Bridges and Tommy Lee Jones (with an Irish accent awful enough to rival that of David Boreanaz).
Most frightening costume: Neil as a dead prostitute. Please allow me to leave it at that, as anything more might, in fact, cause me to vomit, just a little, right in my mouth.
In other news: I voted this morning. It was awesome. I totally schooled my ballot. I do hope that you did also because I heard P. Diddy will kill you if you don’t. Speaking of celebrities and the cause—have you heard about the vigorous campaigning done in Nevada this year? My sister was telling me that Ed fucking Norton and Sean fucking Penn were literally going door-to-door, presumably in The Reno or The Vegas. Can you fucking believe that? I can’t decide if it’s awesome or weird and desperate. I can tell you this much, though, if Sean Penn knocked on my door I so would not open it. Can you imagine?
(knock, knock) Ahe: Who’s there?
Sean Penn: Sean Penn.
Ahe: What? Are you fucking kidding me?
Sean Penn: Uh, would you mind opening the door? I’d like to talk to you.
Ahe: No way! I didn’t say anything bad about you, I swear. And I didn’t laugh at Team America.
Sean Penn: Come on, open up. Is that my daughter in there? IS THAT MY DAUGHTER IN THERE!!?!?!
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We are the lost generation, the generation raised before fear kept kids from tricker-treating. We are the ones who not only remember, but grew up with, bad slasher horror, and all the other market-induced "Dead spot" spending. We are only products of our environment. And we LOVE Halloween.
PS: This year I went as The-Guy-With-No-Eyebrows, not a costume that makes folks stop and stare, but a good one for getting many many double, tripple, quadruple takes.