I’ve been a doing bit better lately with my positivity training about LA, but I’m afraid that Halloween may have set me back to square one. For the second year in a row, I sat at home with nothing to do on my second most favorite holiday.
It’s a toss up between last year and this year, as to which was more depressing. Last year, I waited by the door all night long with bags of candy at the ready for trick-or-treaters. I was ecstatic to open the door to miniature superheroes and fairy princesses, and pint-sized pumpkins and ghosts. I made a “Trick-or-Treat Stop” sign for the front door, and anxiously waited by it. As minutes turned to hours, my smile turned upside down as not a single knock was to be heard. Not one kid came by. Not even an annoying/frightening group of teenage boys clearly too old and intimidating to welcome (which I was fully prepared to settle on by 10 o’ clock). Their loss was my gain (literally, I must’ve gained five pounds) in eating all that candy.
This year, I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. No sir-ee. No candy was purchased, no sign was created. I was going to party on down and get my Halloween on. And I was actually invited to one party, but invited with too short notice to get a costume. (Looking back on it, I should’ve just painted on a cat nose and gone anyway.)
I finally managed to make it to the costume store on the Sunday before Halloween. It was a sad sight, like the aftermath of a wild and strange party. The temporary retail space (I mean, “Halloween Headquarters”) had been turned upside down. Pieces of clown wigs and 80’s neon fingerless gloves, a plastic pimp cup or two, Harry Potter’s glasses, all strewn about. The only intact costume choices remaining were the inferior versions of Eskimo Girl (AKA: slutty faux fur bra top), “Pocahontas” (AKA: slutty faux suede fringe bra top), and anything with sleeves. After an exhaustive search where at one point I actually considered a droopy witch’s hat and black lace fingerless gloves (but couldn’t talk myself into it being a real costume), I came to my senses, got one of the sleeved dresses (which had a part missing – not a big deal, only the part that holds the whole thing together), and walked out with some vampire teeth, feeling pretty good under the circumstances.
I test drove the ensemble when I got home, MacGyver’d a closure for it, and hung it up to de-wrinkle in preparation for Halloween night. Or what I like to call “The night I put on my costume, couldn’t bring myself to go to the Halloween parade alone, took off my costume, pathetically stared at it for a bit, considered putting it back on, with makeup, just to take a photo for Facebook, decided to put my I Heart New York sweatshirt on, and go back to work.”