Happy Halloween, everybody!
Halloween has long been a favorite holiday. When I was little bitty, my daddy and I would go trick-or-treating together. We tried all different modes of transportation. Some years we drove, some years we walked, and I know there was at least one year in there we went via 4wheeler. It was just straight fun.
Then, when I got home, I would sit in front of the fire place and neurotically sort all of the candy. I don't actually remember sharing, but I'm sure a few Almond Joys went missing when my back was turned. :)
All time favorite costume, though, has to have been in college. Junemore year I went as a wallflower. Had it planned for months (Side note: One day, for some occasion, I and my significant other at the time will go as a Heroic Couplet. Dress up as superheroes and speak only in couplets. Booyah). Since I'm not big on social gatherings, it gave me a brilliant excuse to be excruciatingly awkward the entire night and it be totally acceptable. I went to far as to lie down and hide in a corner on stage while they were doing some sort of awards. One of which I won and they had to find me. It was truly great.
Tonight, Halloween was spent at Robinson's Pub skaraoke-ing. Yes, folks. That's scary karaoke. Since we've a curfew of 11 (or at least the students do), we got there at 9 when it opened and literally were the party. Others joined later.
I went as cookie monster. Thanks, Forever Lazy!
I know. I've never looked more appealing in my life. It's practically the only outfit I will agree to wear if and when I go manhunting. You know?
(--> Two pirates and two onesides walk into a bar. That's it. That's the punchline. Oh, and the part where literally no one else in the bar is in costume...)
Did I karaoke? Pft. Did I karaoke...OF COURSE.
You see, small groups of people I know, no way. No way no way no way will I embarrass myself. But goodness, you put me in front of a large group of people with maybe one person for support and I will blow your mind with shamelessness.
This evening, that meant very loud, very terrible singing to Ke$ha's Tik Tok while interpretive dancing...in a blue onesie with the hood up...sober. They also announced my name as Jimmy, which the guys at the back mockingly catcalled. People here. No one can say my name.
As if that wasn't good enough, then we got back on the bus where I was soon joined by my Kenyan friend who plopped himself down partially on top of me. 20 minute bus ride, my friends, trying to interpret his strong Kenyan/drunk accent and respond accordingly.
His life goals include lots of children and living out happy days with his family. He thinks his mother would like me, but I better get a move on the children train because she already had four by the time she was twenty-two. He just got out of a long-term relationship, so no strings there. "You German?" Nope! "You look like Russia." Uh...ok! I don't really even know what that means.
(My face at the mention of childbirth: a mix of horror and confusion.)
Oh there's more, but I'll spare you. I may have just missed my one and only opportunity to have mocha babies, though.
Tonight's group:
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