Holloweentime is here again. Man, I love this holiday. It’s always been my favorite. Or at least right up there with Christmas. I used to love to dress up when I was a kid. Sometimes I’d be stuck on a specific costume and my mom would have to buy at the store, but most of the time I liked to put my own together. Mix and match a little bit. One year I was a vampire… that wore cowboy boots and carried a light saber. Yeah. There’s somebody you wouldn’t want to run into in a dark alley. And some other kid was always like, “What are you supposed to be? And that would bother me, ‘cause I would have to break character, which I did not like to do. What am I supposed to be? I’m not supposed to be anything. If you don’t know a blood sucking Jedi Master that rides the range, I shouldn’t even be talking to you. Go back over there with the other kids before I have to bite you. Or kick you. Or cut you in half.

I was obviously ahead of my time, because most grown-ups seemed to be able to figure it out. Or at least they appreciated the effort. Except for Mrs. Spencer next door. She never got it right. I didn’t like her anyway. She had a little yippy dog named ‘Peaches’ and her house smelled funny. The other 364 I would avoid going over there altogether, but candy is candy, so every Halloween I’d ring her doorbell. And I’d always wish I hadn’t. One year… I believe it was my ninth Halloween; I had worked for weeks on this awesome alien costume. I’d put a lot of effort into it. It was comprised of some everyday household items, along with a few things borrowed from other costumes that I felt lent themselves nicely to my alien motif. Here is where I’d always run into problems. I’d be in my room, in front of the full-length mirror, just about ready to share my creation with the outside world, and my mom would yell up the stairs, “Mark! Give your little sister back her nose. You’re not the only one Trick-or-Treating.” And I’d say, “Mom—pleeze!! I’m working up here! …Plus, it says ‘ Care Bears’ right on her shirt. I don’t think it’s gonna' be a problem!” But I’d never get the support I needed, so I’d have to improvise. No big deal. I was a professional by this point.

I crept silently downstairs and out the door, like an alien would. I made my way next door to the Spenser's and rang their doorbell. Mrs. Spenser let the bell play the entire 30 second song, like she always did. The door finally opened, and I said, “Trick-or-Treat” …Scary, but still letting her know I came in peace. And she says, “Ooooh. Aren’t you a scary kitty cat ballerina!” …And she held a Snickers hostage, suspended over my pillowcase, as she said, “Can you say, ‘Meeeooow?’” and I’m like, “What?! Are you kidding me? And I wanted to say, “How many cats do you know that walk around with tin foil on their heads?” But all I could see was the candy. And I wanted it. So instead I said, “…meow.”

I was furious as Mrs. Spenser closed the door to her stinky house. Felt like I’d just sold my alien soul for a lousy candy bar. And it was fun-size. If it were a big one, I might have felt a little better. If were an aggressive kid I might have thought about smashing her pumpkin. Instead I reached in the bag… I pulled out the snickers… and went back home to find my little sister. To see if I could broker a deal. Holloween was just getting started. I knew there would be more snickers and if I was going to pull this off, I reeeally needed that nose.

FULLY VESTED

I had to go over to Home Depot yesterday, for work. I like going there. Usually. Despite the fact that most times, I’m lost and need to seek assistance almost from the time the doors close behind me. It can be frustrating, because I fight it all the way. I’ll walk up and down the aisles for a half hour. Sometimes I’ll pick something up and carry it around with me so it at least looks like I’m making progress. On this particular trip, I had one thing on my list: a box of these little round rubber knobby things. Their purpose is to keep a doorknob from hitting the wall when the door is fully opened. They’re round. Did I already say round? They’re round. And you stick them on the wall…

So that’s what I needed. Simple enough, right? Couldn’t find them to save my life. So I find a guy in an orange vest and quickly realize why the “CAN I HELP YOU?” on his back is in quotes. He didn’t write it. Nor does he say it. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t say much. He stares blankly. I described what I was looking for, in great detail. He lets me finish and then he sort of chuckled when he said, “Nooooooo. We don’t sell anything like that here.” What does that mean? Not “We don’t carry that particular model.” Not, “Hmmm, let me go and see.” “…We don’t sell anything like that!” You would’ve thought I came skipping down the aisle looking for Easter bonnets. Which, for the record I would not do. At least not in the middle of October.

I was so discouraged I headed straight for the parking lot. You know where I bet they do carry those little rubber knobby things? A place where the other shoppers are at least as lost as me. A place that usually makes me feel better about myself, not worse. Walmart, here I come. Hell, I might even buy a vest of my own while I’m there. Wonder if they have orange?

Tuesday, October 3rd—I’m going to the “Maxim Girl Party” tonight at the War Memorial. In like four hours. And twelve minutes. What, pray tell, is a “Maxim Girl Party?” you may ask, if you don’t run in circles as sophisticated as mine… Well, I’m not exactly sure. But I’ll bet it’s good. This much I know; free food. Free beer. Girls from Maxim Magazine are hosting, in bikinis and other wonderfully unseasonable outfits. (The rest of the details seem sort of unimportant in the light of these cold hard facts.)

My invitation is for me and Guest. Guest will come in the form of Todd. Todd’s a buddy of mine that just got dumped by his girlfriend. This is a risky proposition. When it comes to friends that could REEEAALLLYY use a night out for a beer or two, surrounded by beautiful, scantily clad female strangers, he most definitely tops the list. Unfortunately, the other list at the top of which he sits is, “Dudes That Get A Little Too Into Every Girl They Date”. If he gets stuck on his ex and refuses to let his surroundings distract him, I will walk away. I must. So, yeah… that’s what I’m doing tonight. Sometimes, Life Is Good. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Wednesday, October 4th (blog cont’d)—I’ve never been prouder (or more acutely aware) of the testosterone coursing through my veins. That, my friends, was a party. Complete with pillow-fighting girls in panties. I swear to God. I don’t think they were really fighting though. In fact… I think they were friends.

Sure enough, Todd pulled a Todd. Every half-second or so I’d catch a strobe light illuminated glimpse of him and he wasn’t smiling. I’m as sympathetic as the next guy, but c’mon. Did I mention the pillow-fighting? Anyway, I had a great time. I met lots of cool people. One of which was very excited to meet me…

I’m dancing around, like everybody else, and this beautiful woman walks up to me and says, “Heeey! I know you!” I recognized her as the Promotions Director for a local newspaper. So I said, “Heeey! I know you, too!” We had the greatest conversation. She must have told my twenty times how hilarious she thinks I am, and how she listens to me all the time on the radio. Needless to say, I was eating it up. Cloud Nine. She’s saying things like, “You must hear this all the time.” And I’m saying, “No… not all the time…” Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, she waves three more gorgeous women over to meet me. And she says, “You guys listen to the Ted and Amy Show, right?” They nod and I’m ready for my introduction, feeling like a man that needs none, when she says, “This is Ted!!”

I’d already shaken two hands when I realized what was happening. Reluctantly, I came clean and explained that, although I’m not the ‘Ted’ in Ted and Amy, I, too, am on the radio… if you listen on Thursdays… at just the right time. I’m not sure if they heard me, though. It was kind of loud in there. And they were already on the other side of the room. Oh, Well. I still had a great time. Did I mention the pillow-fighting?