A Halloween Confession

Now before I start this blog, I’d like to preface it with a cold, hard fact.

There is nobody…nobody…who digs Halloween as much as I do.
Capiche?
Jack Skellington, you ain’t got SHIT on this chick.


I live and breathe Halloween like no other. I decorate – or, at least I would, if I had any money left over from the wedding to buy decorations. I play Halloween soundtracks while unwinding at the end of the day with a glass of wine and a good book. I watch every scary movie that plays on TNT, regardless if I have a DVD sitting on my shelf and could easily watch it without the TV editing and endless commercial breaks because I am fully supportive of the cause, dammit! Above all, I eat candy. A LOT of candy. To appease the Gods of Halloween and my ever-widening ass (which I believe are in cahoots with each other).

But costumes?
I….just…er….
No.
Don’t wanna.

Does this make me a less fun person? Well, I can name about 167 reasons RIGHT NOW why this is not the case including Reason #52: has been known to take pants off in public. So let’s not even go there, or I will be forced to be so much fun, your head will explode.

And then I will lose a reader and this all will have been for naught.

Brian? He loves costumes.
Like Luh-OVES them, perhaps too much.

Exhibit A:
This is what he was last year…

And judging by those short shorts, fully functional bullet-proof vest, and 100% authentic foo-man-chu, I’d say that he is quite possibly the most dedicated Halloween costume freak to ever walk the planet.

Me? I half-ass it. I was a ninja last year for Halloween, until I got stripped of my ninja rights when I fell down the stairs at a friend’s house (those ninja socks are more slippery than they appear). Then, like many a disgraced ninja, I became a cowgirl.
And in both instances, they weren’t really costumes, because I actually am a ninja (who cleverly acts like a clumsy person to throw people off the trail) and a cowgirl, of sorts.

At any rate, the chaps were already broken in (outside of the bedroom, pervs).

So we’re kind of like polar opposites on the issue.

And I believe this may lead to our first-ever fight.
Because he comes up with these ideas, and I try to get excited about them. I really try. But the concept of spending money and energy on trying to be a giant candycorn when we all know FULL WELL that I am human, or at any rate, definitely NOT a candycorn? It’s just kind of beyond me.

And this whole “sexy kitten,” “sexy nurse,” “sexy parking attendant” thing is just dumb.
Like, if I want to be a whore, I don’t need Halloween as an excuse.
I’ll just go out there and be all whorey and at least I’ll have found another way to pay the bills, and maybe even have had a little fun in the process. Or at least learned a valuable lesson about the high price of prostitution (hint: it’s Chlamydia).

So this year, I’m thinking of skipping the costume all together.
Is there going to be some sort of Brian vs. Lily “Rumble in the Jungle” over this issue?
Perhaps.
But at least at the end of the day, I can find solace in the fact that I’m not a whore.

Or a candycorn.