Friday, November 2, 2012

I'll be waiting with a gun and a pack of sandwiches

Lately it seems like everyone is trying to plow into us with their automobiles. This past week was no exception. Call this vacation the one I almost ended up in the hospital, or perhaps jail because I wanted to throttle this guy who ran a stop sign with his big fat diesel guzzling truck and almost plowed into my door. If you want to see me really pissed off, run a stop sign/red light/whatever with your big hulking truck and come gunning for me (I guess I should explain that this isn't the first time this kind of scenario happened to me, but I just don't want to talk about it). Other than that I daresay our vacation didn't go horrible this time. Only because I unjinxed myself by announcing our vacation curse to the whole planet. In other news, if you are ever sitting there listening to Franz Ferdinand and get an annoyed feeling, it is because you really want to be listening to Interpol. True story. You're welcome.

OK! Now that I've got my typing-music issue sorted, let me tell you all about my Halloween adventure. I went in the company of a ninja and a princess and looked something like this:
Even though I hung back on the sidewalk, people kept offering me candy. Actually, by "people" I mean a bunch of skeevy men and one perfectly friendly lesbian. All of which I turned down, awkwardly. Ninja tried to save me by announcing that I didn't need to take any candy because I can have whatever candy I want, whenever I want, from their stash. Which should have helped but only made me feel like some kind of candy bully. I know you are probably questioning my sanity for turning down free candy, on Halloween, from people I let my children take candy from. IT'S FREE CANDY!! But the second a guy goes from handing out candy to neighborhood kids to offering it to grown women, he transforms from neighborly guy to faux-Charlie Sheen pervert, and taking candy from faux-Charlie Sheen perverts is totally creepy.

I also got a lot of compliments on my hair ("I like your hair MOM I LIKE HER HAIR!") One little girl asked me what I was, and in the face of such unexpected social interaction, I said, I'm just a mom. Seriously, I tried to explain myself, that I was just a mom out with her kids. I even pointed to them! One innocent question and I felt like I was on trial! And she said, "But you have pink hair". What is this, the Spanish Inquistion? My reply: I'm a mom with pink hair. I know, I know, I could have indulged in all manner of Larry David sarcasm with the kid but I froze. I'm not used to being approached by little kids wanting to talk about my costume, or lack of costume, or hair. It was like,
                                          I don't care...
that. Perhaps it is a good thing that I haven't been able to procure all the necessaries for my dream costume (Alex DeLarge) since I have this much trouble explaining myself. I also had kind of an awkward run-in with a toddler that had a meltdown while being carried across the street, after which he was set down, calmly, a few feet from me. He stood there staring at me and I said something like, "There you go, that's better... temporary insanity, it happens to me all the time." Then his parents kind of laughed and walked away. You know, on second thought, maybe Willy Wonka wouldn't be a half bad costume for me.

Anyway, there is one thing I really love about Halloween, and that is the smell inside one's treat bag, that glorious smell of all kinds of candy cohabitating in one small space. I wish I could bottle that smell before the kids finish growing up. Being that I have two teenagers I guess that happened right about... NOW, and I am out of luck. By this time next year, the ninja will probably be too tall to pass for someone young enough to trick-or-treat. Maybe the princess could go, but this year was hard enough what with her having braces and not being able to eat a large percentage of her spoils, and next year will be no different. So it kind of feels like maybe the party's over. Last dance with Mary Janes. Last night I made a dessert of swedish fish, sour patch kids, and dots, and I was thinking of skipping dinner sometime and just indulging in some kind of candy casserole. That sounds mature and emotionally healthy, eating a bowl of candy while fantasizing about telling off Stop Sign Ignoring Truck Guy with a rant that would make Don Logan blush.
                        Why are you swearing? I'm not swearing.

But I'm over that. We made it through our vacation without any deaths, diseases, injuries, forced home remodeling or any of the other usual suspects. Thank you Jesus.


  1. "You have pink hair."
    "No I don't."
    "But it looks pink."
    "But it's not."
    "Then what color is it?"
    "It's blue."
    And walk away.

    But seriously, I'd like to go into a vacation without worrying that a plane's going to crash into my house Donnie Darko style, or that I'll be thrown into a situation that could only be rationalized as sane due to a biased comparison to a bad episode of Quantum Leap.

    This vacation really did leave me to crawl out from under my bunker and look around in wonder.
    We've got more vacations next year, so stay tuned, folks...

  2. Next year?! Well now you've done it, the world is going to end.