sHalloween

Happy Halloween and everything everybody. Y'all have your costumes sorted out? Let me guess. You're going as a slutty (fill in the blank), aren't you?

If all my readers were women, I'd be 100% correct.

Do you like Halloween? Really? I'm sort of up the air about it. Halloween has always been a really weird time for me. You'd think that I'd be all into it and everything being as that it's my day and all. It's kinda like...I don't know...flags not really being sure whether or not they like Flag Day. Not really true, though. I just can't get excited about Halloween. It's not just the confusion I feel over everyone dressing up pretty much like me and wandering aimlessly in the streets, although that is pretty weird. I mean, how would you feel if you were African-American and everyone rolled in the mud and hung outside of popeye’s chicken every Martin Luther King Jr. day? you’d get a little creeped out, huh? I mean, people go out of their way, sometimes spending tens of dollars, just to look as much like me as possible on Halloween, and most of the time they get it completely wrong!

For starters, we do not drool blood. We don’t have any. We’re dead, get it? And if we had some blood dribbling down our chins after chowing on heads, honestly, we’d wipe it off with a hanky or a wet nap. I mean, do you, as a liver, walk around with spaghetti sauce or mayonnaise globbies on your chin? No? I didn’t think so.

Another one that gets me is the dangly eyeball. If you had a dangly eyeball pendulously swinging from your face, wouldn’t you do something about it? Maybe go to the doctor or, I don’t know, PUT IT BACK IN YOUR FRIGGIN’ HEAD?!? It just makes no sense. You’d never see me with a dangly eyeball. We have three cats in my house. How would I snuggle with Carnage, Tendons and Ginger Snap if they kept batting at this puttytat punching bag suspended from my skull? Get real!

But I’m getting beside the point. I really don’t mind people dressing up like me. Aside from the blatant errors in consistency, I’m actually kinda honored. What makes Halloween a difficult time for me is, while everyone else is having fun getting gruesome and shit, I’ve really got nowhere to go with it. I’m already there. I mean, I’m by no means hideous. I’ve actually been told that I’m quite handsome. But I am most definitely a zombie. Where do I go from there? I feel kinda left out. Like all those African-American people must feel on Martin Luther King Jr. day. Once a year, everyone gets together in awareness of the fact that it sucks to be black, while the black people are aware of this all year ‘round. It's not so special for them.

I suppose I could go in the opposite direction. You know, get all fancied up and stuff. But that isn’t really in keeping with the whole idea around Halloween, is it? It would just be stupid. Like all the girls who use October 31st as an excuse to dress up as a slutty nurse or slutty devil or slutty girlscout or slutty...bowl of congealed turkey gravy. I tried it one year and no one got it. I dressed up in a three-piece suit, slicked my hair back and even put on some makeup to look more living. They didn’t understand that I was making a statement on everyone dressing like me. I even wore a flowery thong on the outside of my pants as a statement on how they always get zombies wrong, but that went over their heads too. They just said, “Damn, Scotty. You’re looking good! Nice panties. Want a Jello shot?” It was kinda embarrassing.

But I figure, screw it. This day was custom-made for me and my people (in mexico it’s the next day, november 1st. but that goes without saying. they’re lazy. of course they’re going to be a day late.). If I can’t make anyone appreciate me on Halloween, I’ll appreciate me on Halloween. So I just dress up conceptually as things that tickle me. I’m already dead, so I use that as my basis. After all, you gotta play to your strengths, right? The girls do when they dress up as slutty plumbers and slutty...girls. So I play up the dead. And even though no one gets me, at least I do.

Last year I put on a dress and made a fake FBI badge. Everyone was all like, “HAHAHAHAHA! Scotty’s a woman!” And I was like, “No I’m not. I’m J. Edgar Hoover.” And they were all, “J. Edgar Who?” and I was like, “-ver...yes! J. Edgar Hoover. Ex-director of the FBI.” And I’d show them the badge I spent hours making with a photo-chopped picture of J. Edgar Hoover on it. They’d look at it and say, “But this dude is a dude and you’re in a dress.” And I’d say, “Yeah. But he’s dead. And I’m dead. I’m dead J. Edgar Hoover.”

And they’d be like, “Oh. Want a Jello shot?”

Three years ago I put on a big ol’ afro wig, wore a sequined bell bottom leisure suit and walked around with a mirror ball hanging ‘round my neck. People were like, “Are you, like, 70s Flava Flav?” And I would go, “No! I’m disco!” And they’d say, “I see! Like, a disco dancer?” And I’d say, “No! The social phenomenon of disco. I’m dead. Disco is...you know...’dead as disco’?” And they’d go, “Oh...I get it. Want a juice box?” (because we were too young for jello shots three years ago)

Whatever. I thought it was fucking great.

This year I’m cutting them to the quick. I’ma put on some fishnet stockings, really short black shorts with a yellow stripe up the side and a gun belt, a blue shirt buttoned down to my navel and a policeman’s cap. That’s right. I’m going as a slutty policewoman. I’m dead. The dressing up as a slutty policewoman on Halloween movement is dead. It’s genius.

And even if someone asks, “So...are you, like, one of the Village People or something?” I can smile, look them square in the eye and then gouge it out of their head until it’s all dangly and twitching on their cheek.

Because if you’re gonna get your costume wrong, you should at least do it up right.

Until next time...

trick or mnnnnhhhhhgh...

P.S. - I realize that my last couple of posts have been kinda negative. I'm really not that negative a guy. Honesty honest. I promise that my next post will be about fluffy bunnies and marshmallow dreams. Until that time, Happy Halloween. Unless you're Mexican. I'll wish you feliz dia de los muertos when you finally wake up from your nappy naps.