On Halloween, and Soiling Myself

For the record, let it be said that I Luh-HUV Halloween.
Love the shit out of it.
I love the decorations and the scary movies on TV and the ridiculous costumes that we dress our children (or animals) in.
For realz, I'd do sexy times with Halloween and even let it take me shopping and kiss it on the mouth, which is totally against my rules, but that is how much I love Halloween, people.

However, even I have my limits.

For one thing, I really don't like dressing up.
I know - I'm a total buzz-kill.
Everything about my personality says that I should be the first one throwing on that sexy pirate wench/sexy witch/sexy nun costume and the last one taking it off (unless I drink too much beer, at which point I've been known to remove clothing prematurely).
But something about all this time and effort and money spent to look like something that you're clearly not ....I dunno....it just seems a little silly.
Because no matter how much I may look like that sexy pirate wench, we all know that I'm just a medical writer from NJ.
(not to mention the fact that if I WAS, in fact, a pirate wench, I'd probably choose a more servicable hem length...and not wear stilettos, what with all the rocking on the high seas...)
So what's the point?
However, I WILL say that I found a full-sized banana costume at Target the other day, and the amazing image in my head of me, waltzing around a party in as a banana, has kind of convinced me that for the right costume, maybe I'd change this position.
Maybe.

Another thing I don't do is the haunted corn maze/wagon ride/prison what-have-you.
Because that shit scares the baJESUS out of me.
Some horrible creature will jump out of the dark, and everyone screams and then kind of laughs and moves on....meanwhile, I'm in the fetal position on the ground, laying in my own feces and vomit, playing dead and hoping the monster won't actually kill me.
I don't know what it is about these attractions...
I can tell myself over and over again that it's not real and it's just for fun, but then I'm forced to walk down this dark hallway and I know for a fact that there are things down that hallway waiting to get me, and I have this moment, right before I pass out from fear, when I'm all, I paid good money for THIS?!?!?
And then I die.
I seriosly die, because I am so freakin' scared.

And don't even get me started on haunted mazes.
Because REAL mazes, in the daytime, terrify me, let alone when they're filled with human-eating zombies and whatnot.
I mean, what if I can't get out? What if I get lost in the maze and they never find me?
THIS is what goes through my head when I encounter a beautiful hedge maze in a garden in May.
Turn down the lights and add heart-attack-inducing characters?
No sir.
Not this sucker.
I'll sit on the bench outside the maze and hold everyone's purses and wait for them to come out....if they make it, that is.

So how, for the love of god, has my sister convinced me to go on a combination haunted hayride/haunted woods walk-through this weekend?
Well...I'm still not sure.

Maybe I want to face all my old enemies and see if I still soil myself at the first mummy
Maybe I want to prove that I'm older and wiser now and can recognize cheesy haunted theatrics when I see it.
Or maybe I'm just tired of holding everybody's purses.

I dunno.

But come Saturday, you'll find me on a haunted hayride to hell, either laughing at the cheesy haunted theatrics....or pooping my pants.
Just like always.