This past weekend most of you no doubt acted like deadly beasts, cartoon characters, pimps and prostitutes. After that you might have also celebrated Halloween.
A mysterious yet enigmatic holiday, Halloween has a complex history. If I were a historian, I might inform you that the first Halloween occurred completely by accident in the 1600s in Sicily when a drunken mule ran head long into the town dwarf, but of course then I would be insane. The truth is that I don't know the history of Halloween.
I do know that Halloween is one day a year when all ages can have a good time. Children can walk through their neighborhoods collecting candy, adults can enjoy the looks on the children's faces as they dish out candy and us college kids can steal the candy from the defenseless children.
I'm of course kidding about one part -- it's ridiculous to think that the adults actually enjoy giving out the candy.
I think for any kid, the best aspect of Halloween is getting candy. Of course I remember there always were some people that were a little stingy with the candy. They'd give you "fun size" candy. The candy companies want kids to believe that the "fun size" candies have been designed for optimal fun. Fun is guaranteed! The truth is when you're a kid and you're trick-or-treating, fun size is no fun. What can you possibly do with a fun size candy that is so much fun? The only thing worse than receiving a fun size was getting a pencil or a toothbrush. "Thanks a lot, lady! I'm trick-or-treating here, not shopping for school supplies!" What you truly wanted when you were a kid was the king size. "I want candy that's fit for a king."
If you have a brother or sister, you are probably familiar with the candy bargaining which followed trick-or-treating. The second we got home my brother and I became professional candy traders. "I'll give you four Snickers and a Smarties for two of your Reeses Cups and half a pack of Spree. Do you like caramel? No? How about the "crispidy crunchiness" of a Kit Kat bar? What do you mean you don't like Kit Kats?! They're crispy crunchy wafers smothered in chocolate! Alright, fine. I'll give you my entire fun size population for your candy apple. You run a hard bargain."
I find the most annoying part of Halloween is picking a costume. (The second most annoying thing is finding out too late that your costume does not have a fly.) Picking a costume is tough because it's your one chance each year to let loose, forget about all your inhibitions, and simply say, "I want to be a European crack whore, and I don't care what anyone thinks about it!" However, don't say it too loud or you'll get arrested, at least in every state besides Oklahoma.
I always used to dress up as the same thing every year. I was some kind of man with a third eyeball on his forehead and needles through his face. For this costume my brother and I began by applying pounds of "fake skin" to our faces. This "fake skin" seemed to be a mixture of Vaseline and hair, but when carefully applied to one's face, could make it look like we had fallen asleep in a vat of Vaseline and hair. We would then stick needles, paper clips, and safety pins through this fake skin in order to take on the appearance of a ghastly man who had either been in a horrible sewing accident or was trying to run an office supply store out of his face.
This Halloween my roommate decided on a costume that gave him an air of both dignity and manliness -- a full-body Pooh Bear outfit. I have absolutely nothing against Pooh or those who choose to dress like him. In fact I support Pooh in all his exploits, whether it be finding honey or changing his name to something more respectable, like Rob. However, I must admit that during a Halloween party later that night, there was something unsettling about watching Pooh smoke Marlboros and drink Budweiser. Before this weekend I had certain preconceived notions about Pooh that I just assumed would always remain true for me. After hearing many Pooh stories and even watching him on TV, I was almost positive that Pooh was more of a Miller man. There's just something weird about watching all your childhood heroes hanging out at a party.
"Well, Papa Smurf is over there tapping the keg. He-Man is in the corner hitting on Little Orphan Annie. I think that's Mr. Rogers shooting up over by the window. And it looks like Elmo just passed out in that trash can"
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